1 Sm 16:1-13

6 March 2005

4th Sunday in Lent

“In the Eye of the Beholder”

            One of the complaints I’ve heard about politics, especially in the television age, is that it’s too much concerned with physical appearance.  People may say that Candidate A isn’t really photogenic, or that Candidate B looks presidential.  Sometimes, or maybe most of the time, the camera really does decide an election.  Although, in the 2004 election, that didn’t seem to be the case!

This was a little before my time, but I’ve seen video of the 1960 presidential debate between John F. Kennedy and Richard Nixon.  I’ve heard that that broadcast may have tipped the scales in a very close race—and I can believe it.  On the one hand, there’s the sweaty, shadowy face of Nixon, who looks like he hasn’t shaved or slept for three days.  And on the other, there’s the bright, confident image of Kennedy, who seems ready to climb the highest mountain.

Of course, the love of a pretty face didn’t arise after the advent of television.  It’s probably as old as the human race.  Certainly the Israelites thought physical appearance is important.  We read in 1 Samuel 9 of Saul, the first king, that there was no Israelite “more handsome than he; he stood head and shoulders above everyone else” (v. 2).

However, his good looks can’t save his monarchy when he disobeys the word of the Lord, who sends Samuel to Bethlehem, to anoint one of the sons of Jesse.  (For more on Saul’s disobedience, check out chapters 13 to 15.)  Just as we like our leader to look presidential, Samuel has in mind a kingly appearance.

But before this new king can be anointed, there are a couple of problems.  Samuel knows that such a journey would be seen as treasonous by Saul.  So the Lord gives him a cover story, which just happens to be true.  He’s to take along a heifer and claim that the visit is in order to offer a sacrifice.

The other problem is the response of the town elders when they see the famous prophet approaching.  The great Samuel is known to be an associate of Saul’s.  So, is the king planning to strengthen his control over this part of the country?  Or has Samuel fallen out of favor?  If so, the king will surely send men after him.  Either way, it doesn’t look good for Bethlehem, and the elders are understandably nervous.[1]

But Samuel calms their fears with his ready-made excuse.  The heifer standing there looks innocent enough.  He tells the elders that Jesse and his sons are invited to the sacrifice, and really, who’s going to refuse such a noted figure?

So after the introductions are made, Jesse presents his sons one at a time to their esteemed visitor.  This is where Samuel begins to rely on his own idea of what a king looks like.  But beginning with the oldest and going down to son number seven, the Lord refuses to select.  Samuel must be confused by now, and he asks Jesse if all his sons are there.  “Well, there’s still the youngest, but he’s out in the field with the sheep.”  Samuel says, “Send for him immediately.”

One wonders what goes through the young man’s head upon hearing that the famous prophet has called for him.  Then again, maybe he’s only told that Father needs him for something.  In any event, no sooner does Samuel see David than he takes a horn of oil and pours it over the young man’s head.  Then Samuel takes off north, heading back to Ramah.  And so, the stage is set for the rise of David, Israel’s second king.

A key part of this story comes in verse 7, where we’re told that we mere mortals “look on the outward appearance, but the Lord looks on the heart.”  Still, after including that, our narrator insists on letting us know that David “was ruddy [he had rosy cheeks], and had beautiful eyes, and was handsome” (v. 12).  It would seem that even the Lord chooses a pretty boy!

David is actually introduced three times in a row.  In the first half of chapter 16, today’s reading, he’s the disregarded youngest son.  In the second half of 16, he’s the musician summoned to play for King Saul.  In chapter 17, David is the unknown young warrior who defeats Goliath.  Both of the last two stories are presented as his introduction to Saul.

            Something common to each case is that he’s pictured as tending sheep.  We have a threefold affirmation of David the shepherd.  He is the shepherd of Israel.  Not only that, he begins the line of anointed kings, of messiahs (understanding that “messiah” means “anointed one”).  All that leads up to the true Messiah, Jesus Christ, the Son of David.

            A moment ago, I mentioned verse 7 with its claim that we “look on the outward appearance, but the Lord looks on the heart.”  You know, outward appearances deal with more than just physical attraction.  Beauty isn’t the only thing in the eye of the beholder.

            Our ideas of influence and success and popularity are too often derived from outward appearances.  We find ourselves both seduced and intimidated by worldly powers.  That can take many forms.  For the sake of social status, we may act against our better judgment—to impress a certain clique.  Or, we may fear being labeled unpatriotic if we openly disagree with the government.

            Samuel’s anointing of David, while Saul is still on the throne, puts him in the position of defying the powers that be.  He may still be captive to his own ideas of what a king should look like physically, but he’s learning to see beyond other outward appearances.  He’s learning that the trappings of power by themselves do not legitimate that power.  Samuel is learning to defy an unjust power structure.

            Still, this isn’t something he’s been eager to do.  We see at the end of chapter 15 and at the beginning of chapter 16 that Samuel grieves for Saul.  He sorrows for him.  It pains him greatly that the king has followed the course he has.  It’s only after hearing from God that the prophet is willing to take any action.  But in doing so, Samuel lays the groundwork for a new era.

            All this makes me ask:  how do we see?  Our gospel reading, Jesus’ healing of the man born blind, also leads us to that question.  The lectionary includes all of chapter 9.  I didn’t feel like reading 41 verses; that’s why I stopped where I did.  I read the beginning of the chapter, where Jesus restores the man’s sight.  Then there’s the controversy as to whether or not he’s the same guy that everyone remembers sitting and begging.

            Some of the Pharisees simply can’t bring themselves to believe that Jesus has healed him.  As the chapter ends, Jesus is telling the man something that makes him sound like a Zen mystic:  “I came into this world for judgment so that those who do not see may see, and those who do see may become blind” (v. 39).  Some Pharisees overhear this, get indignant, and ask Jesus if he thinks they’re blind.  Jesus replies, “If you were blind, you would not have sin.  But now that you say, ‘We see,’ your sin remains” (v. 41).

            Jesus is able to let us see through God’s eyes—to see beyond the outward appearance.  Unless and until we see to the heart, we remain blind.  No glasses, contacts, or corrective surgery can give us that true vision.

            It’s been noted that through Christ “we start to see people in a new way.  Like the first disciples [and like Samuel], we are slow learners.  We take two steps forward and fall one back.  We need to stay in his company, to be nourished by his words and deeds, and to be daily challenged by his utter self-giving for others, if we are to make headway…

“The church of Jesus Christ should of all places be a fellowship where each person matters.  There should be no division, either open or implied, between ‘important’ or ‘unimportant members.’  [We] should not rest until that is the reality of this church.”[2]

            It’s true:  we start to see others in a new way.  Sometimes it seems like we go round and round, never getting anywhere.  Still, it’s not that we’re racing around in circles, like someone drawing on a sheet of paper.  Fallible as we are—imperfect as we are—we do need to learn the same lessons over and over again.

            But as we trust what God sees—as we see with Christ—we are carried along.  We make progress.  A third dimension is added to going round in circles, our silly imitation of a dog chasing its tail.  Our circles of futility become a coil, or a helix, traveling with God.

            In our epistle reading, Paul says that “once [we] were darkness, but now in the Lord [we] are light” (Ep 5:8).  We are light.  He adds, “Try to find out what is pleasing to the Lord” (v. 10).  That suggests effort on our part.  But it isn’t terrible, teeth-pulling effort!  Remember, this is about letting our light shine—both as the body of Christ and as members of that body.

            Unlike Samuel, we aren’t called upon to anoint a new king.  Rather, we’re called upon to let a king anoint us and to give us new vision.

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