The Historical David: The Real Life of an Invented Hero Read Online Free PDF Page A

of his life, David maintained in his psalms a clear and unbending commitment to God as the source of success and salvation. God says that David is “a man after my own heart” (1 Sam. 13:14; Acts 13:22); the truth of this statement seems to be manifested most concretely in the psalms. When the youthful David takes up the lyre in 1 Samuel 16 and soothes Saul’s troubled spirit, we understand this to be not just the first of his acts, but the foremost of them. David’s music defines him: in the narrative he is worthy of the king’s attention, and in tradition he is worthy of God’s—and our—affection.
    The second episode of David’s youth, the slaying of the Philistine giant Goliath, is quite different. The David who plays the lyre is a young man at peace; the David who faces Goliath is a young man very much at war. David the musician is sedentary amid the chaos of Saul’s court; David the warrior is, by contrast, full of motion amid the static face-off between the two armies. The Israelites and the Philistines are dug in on either side of a ravine, with Goliath stepping out day after day to challenge any Israelite to face him in single combat. No one moves. David journeys from his home, arrives into this repeating set piece, speaks with Saul, rejects the heavy armor that prevents him from moving freely, and runs forward to encounter Goliath. He is courage and nobility embodied. Though only a youth, he proves himself to be the biggest man on the battlefield.
    This nobility finds expression in the most famous and beloved image of David, Michelangelo’s glorious sculpture. It is ironic that this story of David’s bold movements is most effectively captured by a motionless figure. For as evocative as the image of the stone sinking into Goliath’s forehead may be, the picture that stays with us is that of David taking his stand, slingshot in hand, with not a shred of fear in his eyes. We may not ever have to face down a giant in one-on-one combat, but everyone knows the feeling of confronting that which is terrifying, and David’s self-possession in the face of grave danger stands as a lasting example for all. This is undoubtedly why, despite the fact that David was at war nearly his entire life, it is this first battle that lasts in the imagination—for this is virtually the only time that David is not in a position where he holds some degree of power. Only here does he stand alone, against the odds.
    Perhaps even more significantly, David’s stance is not one of pure bravery, but rather of the bravery that comes from a deeply held trust in God’s power. His speech to Goliath ranks as one of the great declarations of faith in the face of adversity, worthy of any Sophoclean or Shakespearean hero: “You come against me with sword and spear and javelin, but I come against you in the name of the Lord of Hosts, the God of the ranks of Israel” (1 Sam. 17:45). It is a thrilling statement that reshapes the entire story, changing it from one of combat to one of belief. And it further opens the story to readers in any desperate situation: anyone can emulate David’s stance.
    If David playing the lyre is an image of faith expressed in words, David defeating Goliath is an image of faith expressed in action. Taken together, they present a complete picture of the authentic man of God, one as emotionally insightful as he is physically courageous, all parts of his character testifying to his devotion. David stands as a model for all who pray and act in God’s name. This is where the defining stories of a character’s youth are more valuable than birth narratives. The story of a character’s birth imbues that figure with a sense of predestination for greatness, with an otherworldly quality that adds to the character’s glow. At the same time, however, birth stories are distancing for the reader, for there is no possibility of emulating them; by the time one reads the story, after all, it is too late to imitate it. But when