Good-Looking Leaders Wanted? Appearance, Animals, and Leadership in 1 Samuel 9-31

Introduction

In 1 Samuel 16:7, God tells Samuel, “Do not look on his appearance or on the height of his stature, for the LORD sees not as man sees: man looks on the outward appearance, but the LORD looks on the heart.” If God looks at the heart rather than outward appearance, why does the narrator tell us only five verses later that David was “ruddy, with beautiful eyes, and handsome in appearance” (1 Sam 16:12)? Why does Goliath repeat a similar description in 1 Samuel 17:42? If outward appearance does not matter to God, why does the narrative keep focusing on bodies? This concern with outward appearance is not confined to David. Saul’s body is foregrounded at the very beginning of his story. In 1 Samuel 9:2, he is described as handsome and taller than anyone in Israel, a feature emphasized again when he is publicly presented as king in 1 Samuel 10:23–24. Eliab’s height is also noted in 1 Samuel 16:7. Goliath is another example. His body is described in overwhelming detail in 1 Samuel 17:4–7—his extraordinary height, massive armor, and formidable weaponry dominate the scene. His physicality is excessive, almost theatrical, embodying Philistine confidence in visible power and military strength. If God does not consider outward appearance as a criterion for leadership, why does the narrator invest so much narrative space in describing the physical attributes of these leaders? 

The purpose of this article is to examine the narrative function of outward appearance in the Saul narrative (1 Samuel 9–31).¹ It argues that outward appearance operates as an unstable and ultimately unreliable criterion for leadership. Although physical stature, beauty, and public visibility initially shape Israel’s expectations of kingship, these traits repeatedly fail to signal faithful or effective rule. Crucially, rather than abandoning bodily description after 1 Samuel 16:7, the text redeploys it evaluatively in order to expose the limits of visual discernment. As the narrative progresses, leadership quality is disclosed more consistently through the king’s relationship to animals, both literal and figurative, which function as narrative tests and witnesses to obedience, competence, and covenantal faithfulness.

This argument unfolds in four movements. First, the article examines 1 Samuel 9, attending to the interplay between Saul’s outward appearance and his leadership capacities as revealed in his search for his father’s donkeys. Second, David is placed under the same interpretive lens, with particular attention to the relationship between his physical description and his demonstrated competence as a shepherd entrusted with his father’s flock. Third, the study turns to Goliath, whose exaggerated physicality and animal-like portrayal function narratively to expose the limits of appearance-based evaluations of power and to sharpen the contrast between Davidic and Saulide leadership. The article concludes with theological and narrative reflections on outward appearance, leadership discernment, and the dangers of mistaking visibility for vocation in the Saul narrative.

Outward Appearance, Animals, and the Leadership of Saul

Other than his pedigree, Saul’s initial introduction in 1 Samuel 9:1–2 is striking for what it omits. No moral, spiritual, or leadership qualities are attributed to the future king. Instead, the narrator restricts Saul’s characterization almost entirely to his body. Three physical traits are foregrounded, beginning with the assessment that he is טוב — “good” in appearance, variously rendered as handsome, impressive, or fine.² The term functions here not as a moral evaluation but as an aesthetic one, marking Saul as visually desirable before he is narratively tested or theologically assessed. Second, he is described as a בחור, a term denoting a young man, one at the prime of physical vitality.³ Finally, Saul is described as exceptionally tall, standing head and shoulders above the rest of the people (9:2). His stature is mentioned again in 1 Samuel 10:23 at the moment of public acclamation: “And when he stood among the people, he was taller than any of the people from his shoulders upward.” The repetition is deliberate; it primes readers to expect greatness and prepares the people of Israel to see Saul as a natural king.⁴

In the broader ancient Near Eastern world, physical height and size were not neutral traits but charged symbols of kingship, heroism, and divine favor.⁵ Height functioned as a visible marker of authority, embodying the ideal of leadership. In Mesopotamian literature, the Epic of Gilgamesh describes its hero as “surpassing all other kings, heroic in stature” (Tablet I), with his immense size symbolizing both divine-human hybridity and royal legitimacy.⁶ Egyptian sources, such as The Tale of Sinuhe, portray the Pharaoh as “surpassing in height, his limbs like those of a god,” reinforcing his visual and theological elevation.⁷ Artistic conventions across Egypt and Mesopotamia similarly used hieratic scale—depicting kings physically larger than their subjects—to signify superiority and divine proximity.⁸ The Ugaritic Baal Cycle (KTU 1.1–1.6) likewise highlights imposing bodily traits in its heroic figures, while the Amarna Letters (e.g., EA 252, EA 287) employ metaphors of height and elevation, with vassals hailing Pharaoh as “my lord, the sun from the sky.”⁹ Such imagery collapses physical, spatial, and theological categories into a single category: the tall, elevated king embodies divine sanction. As Bernard Levinson observes, “Israel’s portrayal of Saul resonates with these broader Near Eastern ideals.”¹⁰ Against this backdrop of visual kingship ideals, the narrative’s immediate turn to a mundane task involving lost animals is striking, inviting readers to test whether Saul’s imposing body corresponds to genuine leadership capacity.

Lost Donkeys as a Test of Leadership

Immediately after Saul’s physical characteristics are introduced, the narrative shifts to an episode of apparent triviality: Saul’s search for his father’s lost donkeys. In his analysis of Saul’s life, David Gunn largely disregards this episode, treating the search as a tangential subplot rather than as a narratively and theologically significant component of Saul’s introduction.¹¹ Nevertheless, the donkey episode is integral to the narrative’s evaluation of Saul, functioning as an implicit test of leadership.¹² The question is whether Saul possesses the qualities that his outward appearance seems to promise.

As Walter Brueggemann observes, the narrator underscores Saul’s failure through a threefold refrain: “they did not find them” (9:4), “the donkeys were not there” (9:4), and again, “they did not find them” (9:5).¹³ The repetition does more than report an unsuccessful search; it constructs a portrait of inefficacy and frustration at the very outset of Saul’s story. The episode further acquires interpretive weight through Saul’s speech. Saul’s first recorded words in the narrative are an expression of resignation and retreat: “Come, let us go back, or my father will stop worrying about the donkeys and start worrying about us” (1 Sam 9:5).¹⁴ Robert Alter notes that a character’s first words are often an “important moment in the exposition of character.”¹⁵ In this case, Saul’s inaugural speech reveals a lack of persistence: an absence of tenacity that the narrative quietly marks as a critical deficiency in a prospective leader.¹⁶

Saul’s lack of tenacity, however, is not his only leadership deficiency. He also lacks initiative and practical wisdom. Instead of imagining alternative courses of action, Saul moves quickly toward abandonment of the task. By contrast, the unnamed servant recognizes the presence and relevance of divine authority within the situation.¹⁷ His proposal to consult “a man of God” reflects theological awareness and situational insight: he knows who Samuel is and trusts that prophetic speech is effective. The narrative thus establishes an early imbalance in perception: one figure discerns possibility and direction, while the other sees only limits and inconvenience.¹⁸

This imbalance is reinforced when Saul raises a logistical objection concerning the absence of a gift for the prophet. The servant immediately resolves the problem by producing silver from his own resources. Preparedness, problem-solving, and persistence are consistently associated with the subordinate figure rather than with the future king. Equally significant is the manner in which the servant exercises influence. He neither commands Saul nor challenges his authority; instead, he persuades respectfully, framing his counsel as a suggestion rather than a directive. Nevertheless, narrative agency resides with him. Every decisive movement toward Samuel originates with the servant, while Saul’s role remains largely reactive. Saul’s eventual assent—“Your word is good; come, let us go”—confirms this dynamic: he proceeds, but only after being led step by step.

The pattern continues when Saul encounters the unnamed women who have come to draw water (1 Sam 9:11–13). Like the servant, these women display clarity, efficiency, and narrative usefulness.¹⁹ They provide precise and time-sensitive information, explaining not only Samuel’s location but also the urgency of reaching him before the sacrificial meal begins. Their speech is detailed and forward-moving, in contrast to Saul’s earlier indecision. Once again, Saul advances toward his destiny only because others—socially marginal, unnamed, and unexpected—supply the discernment and direction he lacks. The cumulative effect is unmistakable: servants and village women repeatedly exhibit the practical wisdom and responsiveness that the physically impressive future king does not. Long before Saul is publicly presented as king, the narrative has already begun to question his fitness to lead.

Bleating Sheep as a Test of Leadership

Animals are used not only to test Saul’s leadership at the beginning of his reign but also to expose its ultimate failure at the end.²⁰ 1 Samuel 15 occupies a decisive and irreversible place in Saul’s life because it marks the final rejection of his kingship, not merely another episode of failure.²¹ Saul’s victory over the Amalekites is ironically also his most devastating defeat.²² Earlier narratives expose Saul’s deficiencies: hesitation in chapter 9, impatience in chapter 13, and insecurity before the people. However, in each case, the possibility of recovery remains open. Chapter 15 closes that possibility. The narrative explicitly announces what has been implicit all along: Saul is no longer fit to rule, and the divine verdict is final.

What distinguishes 1 Samuel 15 from Saul’s earlier failures is not simply the gravity of the command but Saul’s posture toward it.²³ The command to devote Amalek to destruction is presented as unambiguous and divinely authorized. Saul’s partial obedience—sparing Agag and the best of the livestock—reveals not misunderstanding but wilful modification of divine instruction. Saul obeys selectively, reshaping God’s command according to his own judgment and political calculation. In doing so, he asserts royal autonomy where covenantal submission is required. This act crystallizes Saul’s core problem: he treats obedience as negotiable.

The dialogue between Samuel and Saul further underscores the finality of the rejection.²⁴ Saul’s repeated insistence, “I have obeyed the voice of the LORD,” stands in stark contrast to Samuel’s famous rebuke that “to obey is better than sacrifice.” Saul’s theology privileges ritual and outcome over obedience and submission. Even when confronted, Saul deflects responsibility, blaming the people and reframing disobedience as religious zeal. Unlike earlier moments, repentance here is delayed, self-serving, and shaped by concern for public honor rather than genuine contrition. Saul asks Samuel to honor him before the elders, revealing that fear of shame outweighs fear of God.

The symbolic actions of the chapter reinforce the verdict. Samuel’s declaration that the LORD has torn the kingdom from Saul “this day” is enacted physically when Saul tears Samuel’s robe. The symbolism is unmistakable: Saul’s grasping for authority results only in its violent removal.²⁵ From this point forward, Saul is king in title but not in divine favor. The Spirit that once empowered him will soon depart, and the narrative will shift its focus to another who embodies the obedience Saul lacks.

Significantly, the narrative once again turns to animals as the means through which Saul’s failure is disclosed. Animals reappear at a decisive moment in 1 Samuel 15, where they function not as incidental background but as narrative agents that expose Saul’s failure with unmistakable clarity. Whereas the lost donkeys in chapter 9 quietly signal Saul’s lack of initiative and persistence, the sheep and cattle in chapter 15 publicly and audibly testify against him. The narrative thus moves from silent absence to disruptive presence, intensifying the evaluative role animals play in assessing Saul’s kingship.

In 1 Samuel 15, Saul’s failure is no longer a matter of inability but of disobedience. Commanded to devote Amalek and its livestock to destruction, Saul spares “the best of the sheep and of the cattle” under the pretext of religious intention. The animals themselves become the means by which Saul’s justification collapses. When Samuel confronts him, the prophet’s piercing question—“What then is this bleating of the sheep in my ears, and the lowing of the cattle that I hear?” (15:14)—turns the animals into audible witnesses. Unlike Saul’s earlier inability to find donkeys, here the problem is that the animals cannot be silenced. What Saul attempts to conceal through rhetoric is exposed by sound.

The contrast between Saul’s speech and the animals’ noise is narratively significant. Saul offers explanations, appeals to popular pressure, and reframes disobedience as piety. The sheep, however, undermine every verbal defense. They render Saul’s leadership transparent by revealing a fundamental disconnect between divine command and royal action. In this way, animals function as a more reliable testimony than the king’s own words. The narrative implies that creation itself registers Saul’s failure more truthfully than Saul does.

In sum, 1 Samuel 9 and 15 form a coherent pattern. In the first episode, animals are absent, and Saul cannot locate them; in the second, animals are present, and Saul cannot eliminate them. In both cases, leadership failure is disclosed through Saul’s relationship to animals—whether through incompetence, hesitation, or disobedience. The bleating sheep thus complete what the lost donkeys began: they confirm that Saul’s kingship is marked not by discernment, obedience, or resolve, but by a persistent inability to align action with divine purpose. Long before Saul is rejected explicitly, the animals of 1 Samuel have already rendered their verdict upon his kingship.

Outward Appearance, Animals, and the Leadership of David

Since Saul’s outward appearance proves to be an unreliable indicator of leadership capacity, it is unsurprising that this point is made explicit in the decisive episode involving Eliab. When Samuel encounters Jesse’s eldest son, his immediate assumption: “Surely the LORD’s anointed is now before the LORD” (1 Sam 16:6), mirrors the people’s earlier enthusiasm for Saul. Eliab’s stature and appearance trigger precisely the kind of visual confidence the narrative seeks to expose.²⁶ The divine rejection that follows does not rest on any disclosed moral failure; no flaw in Eliab’s character is narrated. Instead, the episode functions programmatically.²⁷ Eliab is refused solely as a corrective to appearance-based discernment. His dismissal teaches the reader how to read bodies in the narrative: not as indicators of divine choice, but as occasions for misrecognition. Before Saul fails and before David succeeds, the text trains its audience to distrust what seems obvious.

However, only five verses later, the narrator appears, at least at first glance, to return to precisely the category that has just been relativized. David is introduced as one who “was ruddy, with beautiful eyes, and good in appearance” (v. 12). This apparent tension invites closer attention to the language of the description itself. Three descriptive elements are applied to David. First, Israel’s future king is said to be אדם, meaning “reddish.”²⁸ The term most plausibly refers to David’s complexion, though it has also been taken to indicate hair color or, more broadly, physical vitality.²⁹ Modern translations such as the NIV (“glowing with health”) reflect this latter interpretive move. In any case, the adjective conveys youthfulness and vitality rather than stature or dominance, and it stands in marked contrast to Saul’s exceptional height.

Second, David is described as יפה עינים, “beautiful of eyes.” Rather than offering a comprehensive assessment of his physical form, the narrator draws attention to a specific feature. In biblical narrative, the eyes often function as loci of perception and relational presence.³⁰ The effect is an intimate portrait, one that emphasizes expressiveness rather than imposing physicality. Third, David is said to be טוב ראי, “good of appearance.” Significantly, this phrase employs the same evaluative vocabulary (טוב) used earlier to describe Saul (1 Sam 9:2).³¹ The repetition is deliberate. By echoing Saul’s introduction, the narrator reintroduces the category of appearance while simultaneously destabilizing its interpretive authority. The description invites comparison without allowing appearance to serve as the basis for divine selection.

Taken together, on a surface level and by the standards of the ancient Near East, David ostensibly fits the image of a king. The narrative, however, introduces a decisive tension: this is not how the other characters within the story perceive David. His father, Jesse, does not initially consider him a viable candidate for kingship, leaving him with the sheep. At the same time, his older sons are presented before Samuel (1 Sam 16:11). Likewise, Goliath later dismisses David with open contempt. When the Philistine sees David, “he disdained him, for he was but a youth, ruddy and handsome in appearance” (1 Sam 17:42). Far from recognizing David as a royal or military figure, Goliath’s evaluation reduces him to an insignificant and unthreatening body, underscoring the gap between divine election and human perception. This demonstrates that even within the narrative world itself, outward appearance is exposed as an unreliable indicator of leadership.

What then functions as a reliable indicator of leadership in the narrative? The answer the text itself offers is not physical appearance but the stewardship of entrusted animals. Significantly, David is introduced in a manner that closely parallels Saul. Both figures first appear not in royal or military contexts but while working for family members and attending to animals. Saul is sent by his father Kish to search for the lost donkeys (1 Sam 9:3–5), while David is left tending his father Jesse’s sheep (1 Sam 16:11; 17:15).

The parallel is deliberate. In both cases, animal care situates the future king within the rhythms of ordinary responsibility rather than public power. Nevertheless, the narratives quickly differentiate the two figures by how they narrate and evaluate that responsibility. Saul’s search for the donkeys fails; the animals are not found through his own initiative, and Saul repeatedly expresses anxiety about returning home empty-handed (1 Sam 9:5). His leadership trajectory begins amid uncertainty, dependence, and concern for reputation.

David’s relationship to animals, by contrast, is characterized by vigilance, courage, and self-risk. He not only tends the sheep but actively defends them, confronting predators at personal cost (1 Sam 17:34–35).³² Unlike Saul, David does not abandon his charge when danger arises; instead, his protection of the flock becomes the narrative ground upon which his suitability to confront Goliath is rhetorically established. The logic is explicit: the one who faithfully guards his father’s sheep can be entrusted with protecting Israel.

The association between shepherding and kingship is well established in the ancient Near East, making the narrative’s emphasis on David as a shepherd both culturally intelligible and theologically charged.³³ The oldest reference to the king as a shepherd is from the Old Akkadian period, where King Lugalsaggei of Uruk speaks of himself as being “born of shepherding.”³⁴ Atalshen, king of Urkish and Nawar, contemporary with, or shortly after, the last rulers of the Akkad dynasty, describes himself as “the wise (?) shepherd of the city.”³⁵ Similarly, Shusin, king of Ur, is referred to as “the king whom the god Enlil, in his heart, has elected to be the shepherd of the country and of the four quarters of the world.”³⁶ Shortly thereafter, Lipit-shtar, king of Isin, often describes himself as “humble shepherd of the city of Nippur” in his code and other inscriptions.³⁷ In royal ideology across Mesopotamia and the Levant, kings were regularly portrayed as shepherds whose primary responsibility was the protection, provision, and ordering of their people.³⁸        

Against this backdrop, David’s introduction as a shepherd is not incidental but deeply appropriate. His care for his father’s sheep situates him within a recognized leadership paradigm long before he occupies a throne. The narrative thereby reframes kingship away from visible power, stature, or military display and toward the faithful stewardship of the vulnerable. David’s shepherding does not merely symbolize future kingship; it functions as a practical apprenticeship in leadership, testing qualities—courage, responsibility, and self-sacrifice—that outward appearance cannot reveal.

Outward Appearance, Leadership, and the Animal Goliath

Saul and Goliath

The next character whose outward appearance receives sustained narrative attention is Goliath, whose physical description occupies four verses in 1 Samuel 17 (vv. 4–7). Remarkably, the narrative portrayal of Goliath closely parallels the earlier description of Saul, inviting readers to read the two figures in deliberate juxtaposition.³⁹ According to Barbara Green, Goliath is a “silhouette” of Saul.⁴⁰ First, both men are marked by exceptional height. Goliath’s stature is given as “six cubits and a span” (17:4), often translated as roughly 9 feet tall, though the LXX, 4QSam^a, and Josephus (Ant. 6.171) present a reduced height of approximately 6 feet 6 inches.⁴¹ Importantly, the same Hebrew root, גבה (“to be tall”), is used to describe both Goliath’s height (17:4) and Saul’s stature (9:2; 10:23), lexically linking the Philistine champion and Israel’s king.

Second, the verb לבש (“to clothe”) is used repeatedly to describe Goliath’s armour, appearing three times in 17:5–6 and again in 17:39.⁴² Significantly, the same verb occurs twice when Saul attempts to clothe David in his own armor (17:38). The shared vocabulary reinforces the visual and symbolic association between Saul and Goliath as heavily armored warriors defined by martial display. 

Third, Goliath’s weapon of choice is the spear, mentioned four times (17:7, 45, 47).⁴³ Within the books of Samuel, Saul is likewise distinguished as the spear-wielding figure, repeatedly associated with the weapon (19:9–10; 20:33; 22:6; 26:7–8, 11–12). Both figures are also linked to swords, which are mentioned in relation to each of them (17:39, 45, 47, 51), further reinforcing their shared martial profile. 

Fourth, the descriptions of both men’s armour are strikingly intimidating. Goliath’s bronze helmet, coat of mail, greaves, and javelin (17:5–6) find a narrative echo in Saul’s armour (17:38–39). Graeme Auld observes, “the pieces of armed protection provided by Saul correspond strikingly to the elements of Goliath’s armor (vv. 5-7).”⁴⁴ In both cases, armor becomes a symbol of reliance on conventional military strength rather than divine deliverance. Fifth, both Goliath and Saul are accompanied by armor-bearers (17:7; 31:4), a further marker of elite warrior status and royal or champion-like identity.⁴⁵

Not only does Goliath resemble Saul aesthetically, but the narrative also aligns their stories in striking ways. First, both figures are connected through the repeated use of the verb נכה (“to strike, smite”). The term appears prominently in the David–Goliath episode and later reappears in Saul’s repeated attempts to strike David, linking the Philistine enemy and Israel’s king through shared violent intent.⁴⁶ Second, Goliath demands that Israel provide “a man” to fight him (17:10). At the same time, Saul likewise seeks “a man” to confront Goliath, offering rewards for whoever will take up the challenge (17:25). The king who should embody Israel’s martial leadership instead searches for a substitute.

Third, marriage to the king’s daughter functions as a political incentive in both narratives.⁴⁷ Saul offers his daughter as a reward for killing Goliath (17:25). He later deploys the same promise as a snare against David (18:17–30), further aligning Saul’s actions with the logic of coercion and manipulation. Fourth, Goliath and Saul are the only two characters in 1 Samuel who are explicitly said to die by their own swords. The verb שלף (“to draw [a sword]”) occurs only in 1 Samuel 17:51 and 31:4, binding their deaths through rare and deliberate lexical repetition.⁴⁸ Fifth, both figures share the same postmortem fate: their heads are severed (17:46, 51, 54, 57; 31:9), and their weapons are deposited in cultic or symbolic spaces.⁴⁹ These are the only two characters in the narrative whose decapitation is paired with the ritualized preservation of their arms, underscoring their mirrored trajectories.

Given these shared features—appearance, weaponry, armor, narrative roles, and fate—one would expect Saul to be the one to confront Goliath. Physically and militarily, he is Goliath’s closest match. However, the narrative delivers a shocking reversal. When Goliath issues his challenge, the narrator states explicitly: “When Saul and all Israel heard these words of the Philistine, they were dismayed and terrified” (1 Sam 17:11). Saul is named first. As king and commander-in-chief, he is expected to respond, but he does not. Unlike earlier moments where Saul acts decisively (e.g., 1 Sam 11), here he offers no counter-speech, prayer, or strategy. Goliath dominates the verbal space for forty days (17:16), while Saul remains silent. In a narrative saturated with speech, this silence is conspicuous and damning.⁵⁰ The king who looks like a champion proves incapable of acting like one, while the shepherd without armour emerges as Israel’s true deliverer.

This dramatic reversal exposes the fundamental flaw in Saul’s kingship. Although Saul most closely resembles Goliath in stature, armor, weaponry, and martial symbolism, the narrative decisively demonstrates that outward appearance is not the criterion by which leadership is evaluated in 1 Samuel. The king who looks like a champion proves incapable of acting in faith, while the youth whose body initially disqualifies him in the eyes of others becomes Israel’s deliverer.

David and Goliath

The narrative’s critique of appearance-based leadership does not end with Saul’s paralysis before Goliath. It is sharpened and completed by the manner in which David approaches the Philistine champion. David does not confront Goliath as a conventional warrior meeting another warrior. Instead, he approaches him as a shepherd confronting a familiar threat. The narrative consistently frames the encounter in pastoral rather than military terms, transforming the battlefield into an extension of David’s shepherding world and thereby redefining what legitimate leadership looks like in practice.⁵¹

David himself interprets the confrontation through this lens. Before he ever faces Goliath, he explains his confidence by recounting his experience as a shepherd. When lions and bears seized sheep from the flock, he pursued them, struck them down, and rescued the animals from their mouths (1 Sam 17:34–36). This speech is not an incidental autobiographical detail. It provides the conceptual framework through which David understands the challenge posed by Goliath. The giant is not first perceived as a Philistine military champion but as a predator, another threat to the flock entrusted to him. Just as David seized wild animals by the beard and killed them, so he expects to deal with Goliath. In fact, the narrator himself presents Goliath in animal-like terms. Peter Leithart, for instance, notes that Goliath’s cuirass is described as “scaled body armor” (שריון קשקשים).⁵² The word קשקשים is never used anywhere else in the Hebrew Bible to describe armor. Instead, it is used to describe the scales of sea creatures (Lev 11:9-12; Deut 14:9-10; Ezek 29:4).⁵³ Sidney Greidanus goes further, likening Goliath to a serpent.⁵⁴

The narrative intensifies this animal imagery through Goliath’s own speech. The Philistine curses David by his gods and sneers, “Am I a dog, that you come to me with sticks?” (17:43). The irony is sharp. In mocking David, Goliath unwittingly adopts animal language and lowers himself into precisely the category David knows how to confront. Goliath repeatedly mentions animals, but always in a dismissive or self-deprecating register.⁵⁵ David, by contrast, invokes animals as enemies he has already defeated under God’s protection. The animal imagery thus functions evaluatively. Goliath speaks like an animalized predator, while David speaks as a shepherd who has proven faithful in the face of such threats.

David’s bodily presentation further reinforces this shepherdly posture. He refuses Saul’s armor, not because armor is inherently problematic, but because it does not belong to his vocation or embodied identity. Instead, he approaches Goliath dressed as a shepherd, carrying a staff, a sling, and stones taken from the wadi.⁵⁶ These are not improvised weapons but the standard tools of flock protection. The sling, in particular, was a well-known shepherd’s weapon, designed to ward off predators and defend animals at a distance.⁵⁷ David fights as who he is, not as who Saul or Israel’s military imagination expects him to be. In doing so, he embodies the essay’s central claim. Leadership is disclosed not through appearance or equipment, but through faithful practice shaped by vocation.

Even the outcome of the battle follows pastoral rather than military logic. Goliath threatens to make David’s body food for the birds of the air and the beasts of the field (17:44), a conventional battlefield curse. Nevertheless, the narrative reverses the threat with deliberate symmetry. David declares that Goliath himself will become food for the birds and beasts (17:46), and the fulfillment is exact. When Goliath is killed, his head is severed, and his body is left exposed in the field. The predator becomes prey. The one who threatened the flock is consumed by creation itself.

In this way, the David–Goliath episode sharpens the essay’s argument. Saul and Goliath, both defined by height, armour, weapons, and visible power, embody an appearance-based model of leadership that ultimately collapses. David, by contrast, approaches the crisis as a shepherd whose leadership has already been tested and proven through his relationship to animals. The narrative thus confirms that outward appearance is not the criterion by which leadership is evaluated in 1 Samuel. Instead, leadership is revealed through faithful stewardship, obedience, and the capacity to protect what belongs to God. The battlefield does not overturn this logic; it exposes it.  

Conclusion

This study has argued that outward appearance in 1 Samuel functions not as a reliable indicator of leadership but as a narratively destabilized category that invites scrutiny rather than confidence. Although bodies are repeatedly described, including Saul’s height, David’s appearance, and Goliath’s imposing form, the narrative persistently frustrates any attempt to equate physical traits with divine approval or leadership competence. Appearance matters in the story, but not because it reveals fitness to rule. Instead, it exposes the distance between human expectation and divine evaluation.

Animals play a decisive role in this exposure. From the lost donkeys of 1 Samuel 9 to the bleating sheep of chapter 15, Saul’s relationship to animals discloses a pattern of hesitation, misplaced priorities, and disobedience. These animals function as narrative witnesses, rendering visible and audible what Saul himself refuses to acknowledge. His kingship begins with animals he cannot find and ends with animals he cannot silence. In both instances, leadership failure is revealed not through appearance but through stewardship.

David’s story unfolds along the same narrative axis but reaches a different conclusion. Although his outward appearance invites comparison with Saul, it does not function as the basis of his selection or success. Instead, David’s leadership is disclosed through faithful shepherding, through vigilance, courage, and willingness to risk himself for what has been entrusted to him. His confrontation with Goliath does not overturn this pastoral logic. It confirms it. Goliath, like Saul, embodies a model of leadership grounded in size, armour, and visible power. Both figures resemble one another aesthetically and narratively, and both meet the same end. The shepherd, not the giant, proves to be Israel’s true deliverer.

The narrative of 1 Samuel thus offers a sustained critique of appearance-based leadership. It warns against mistaking visibility for vocation and physical impressiveness for divine sanction. Leadership, the text insists, is not revealed by what can be seen but by how one responds to responsibility, obedience, and the care of the vulnerable. In this way, 1 Samuel reframes kingship not as the performance of power but as the faithful stewardship of what belongs to God, a claim rendered not through abstract theology but through bodies, animals, and the narratives that bind them together.

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Footnotes

1. On the demarcation of the Saul narrative, see W. Lee Humphreys, “The Tragedy of King Saul: A Study of the Structure of 1 Samuel 9–31,” Journal for the Study of the Old Testament 3, no. 6 (1978): 18–27; Bruce C. Birch, “The Development of the Tradition on the Anointing of Saul in 1 Sam 9:1–10:16,” Journal of Biblical Literature 90, no. 1 (1971): 55–68; V. Philips Long, The Reign and Rejection of King Saul: A Case for Literary and Theological Coherence, SBL Dissertation Series (Atlanta: Scholars Press, 1989), 173-94: Michael Avioz, Josephus’ Interpretation of the Books of Samuel (London: T&T Clark, 2005), 23; Marvin A. Sweeney, Tanak: A Theological and Critical Introduction to the Jewish Bible(Minneapolis: Fortress Press, 2011), 31. ↩︎
2. David Toshio Tsumura, The First Book of Samuel, New International Commentary on the Old Testament (Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdmans, 2007), 264. ↩︎
3. P. Kyle McCarter Jr., 1 Samuel, Anchor Bible 8 (Garden City, NY: Doubleday, 1980, 173. ↩︎
4. Jeremy Schipper, Disability Studies and the Hebrew Bible: Figuring Mephibosheth in the David Story, Library of Hebrew Bible/Old Testament Studies 441 (London/New York: T&T Clark/Bloomsbury, 2009), 88. ↩︎
5. V. Philips Long, 1 and 2 Samuel, Tyndale Old Testament Commentaries 8 (Downers Grove: IVP Academic, 2020), 107. ↩︎
6. Andrew R. George, trans. The Epic of Gilgamesh: A New Translation (London: Penguin Classics, 2003), 1. ↩︎
7. Miriam Lichtheim, “The Tale of Sinuhe,” in Ancient Egyptian Literature, vol. 1, The Old and Middle Kingdoms (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1975), 222–35. ↩︎
8. Irene J. Winter, “Art in Empire: The Royal Image and the Visual Dimensions of Assyrian Ideology,” in Assyria 1995: Proceedings of the 10th Anniversary Symposium of the Neo-Assyrian Text Corpus Project, ed. S. Parpola and R. M. Whiting (Helsinki: Neo-Assyrian Text Corpus Project, 1997), 359–81. ↩︎
9. Nicholas Wyatt, Religious Texts from Ugarit: The Words of Ilimilku and His Colleagues, 2nd ed. (Sheffield: Sheffield Academic Press, 2002), 30–35, 85–90; W. L. Moran, ed. and trans. The Amarna Letters (Baltimore: Johns Hopkins University Press, 1992), 296–97, 334–36. ↩︎
10. Bernard M. Levinson, “The Reconceptualization of Kingship in Deuteronomy,” Vetus Testamentum 51 (2001): 511–34, here 520. ↩︎
11. David M. Gunn, The Fate of King Saul (Sheffield: JSOT Press, 1980), 61. ↩︎
12. J. P. Fokkelman, Narrative Art and Poetry in the Books of Samuel, vol. 4, Vow and Desire (Assen: Van Gorcum, 1998), 375-76. ↩︎
13. Walter Brueggemann, First and Second Samuel Interpretation (Louisville: John Knox Press, 1990), 71. ↩︎
14. Samuel Hildebrandt, “The Servants of Saul: ‘Minor’ Characters and Royal Commentary in 1 Samuel 9–31,” Journal for the Study of the Old Testament 40, no. 2 (2015): 179–200, here 184. ↩︎
15. Robert Alter, The Art of Biblical Narrative (New York: Basic Books, 1981), 74. ↩︎
16. Robert Alter, The David Story: A Translation with Commentary of 1 and 2 Samuel (New York: W. W. Norton & Company, 2000), 60. ↩︎
17. Adele Berlin, Poetics and Interpretation of Biblical Narrative, 2nd ed. (Winona Lake, IN: Eisenbrauns, 1994), 62-63. ↩︎
18. Hans Wilhelm Hertzberg, Die Bücher Samuel (Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 1960), 141. ↩︎
19. Fokkelman, Vow and Desire, 386. ↩︎
20. For another example of how animals are used to advance the plot, see Timothy Yap, “A Vomiting Savior: The Function of the Fish in the Book of Jonah,” Restoration Quarterly 67, no. 2 (2025): 93-101. ↩︎
21. Peter J. Sellars, “An Obedient Servant? The Reign of King Saul (1 Samuel 13-15) Reassessed,” Journal for the Study of the Old Testament 35, no. 3(2011): 317-38, here 332. ↩︎
22. Annett Giercke-Ungermann captures this irony well in her Die Niederlage im Sieg: Eine synchrone und diachrone Untersuchung der Erzählung von 1 Sam 15, Erfurter theologische Studien 97 (Würzburg: Echter Verlag, 2010). ↩︎
23. Carl S. Ehrlich and Marsha C. White, eds., Saul in Story and Tradition (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2006), 129. ↩︎
24. Robert Polzin, Samuel and the Deuteronomist: A Literary Study of the Deuteronomic History, Part Two: 1 Samuel (Bloomington: Indiana University Press, 1989), 144. ↩︎
25. Timothy Yap, “Reading Mordecai in the Shadow of Saul: Intertextuality and Shared Motifs Between the Books of Samuel and Esther,” The Jewish Bible Quarterly 53, no. 1 (2025): 15-24, see esp. 16-19. ↩︎
26. Peter D. Miscall, 1 Samuel: A Literary Reading (Bloomington: Indiana University Press, 1986), 116. ↩︎
27. Keith Bodner, “Eliab and the Deuteronomist*,” Journal for the Study of the Old Testament 28, no. 1 (2003): 55–71. ↩︎
28. Long, 1 and 2 Samuel, 173. ↩︎
29. McCarter., 1 Samuel, 275. ↩︎
30. David Penchansky, “Beauty, Power, and Attraction: Aesthetics and the Hebrew Bible,” in Beauty and the Bible: Toward a Hermeneutics of Biblical Aesthetics, ed. Richard J. Bautch and Jean-François Racine (Atlanta: Society of Biblical Literature, 2013), 47–66, here 55. ↩︎
31. J. A. Clines, Interested Parties: The Ideology of Writers and Readers of the Hebrew Bible (Sheffield: Sheffield Academic Press, 1995), 221. ↩︎
32. Robert P. Gordon, I & II Samuel: A Commentary, Library of Biblical Interpretation (Grand Rapids, MI: Zondervan, 1986), 156-57. ↩︎
33. Cas A. J. Vos, “‘n Literêre en himnologiese blik op Psalm 23,” Tydskrif vir Geesteswetenskappe 49, no. 4 (2009): 535–46. ↩︎
34. Edmond Sollberger and Jean Robert Kupper, Inscriptions royales sumériennes et akkadiennes (Paris: Éditions du Cerf, 1971), 91. See also, Carlo Zaccagnini, “Sacred and Human Components in Ancient Near Eastern Law,” History of Religions 33, no. 3 (1994): 265–286. ↩︎
35. Dietz O. Edzard, Gertrud Farber, and Edmond Sollberger, Die Orts- und Gewässernamen der präsargonischen und sargonischen Zeit, Répertoire géographique des textes cunéiformes 1 (Wiesbaden: Reichert, 1977), 127, 179. ↩︎
36. Sollberger and Kupper, Inscriptions, 128. ↩︎
37. Sollberger and Kupper, Inscriptions, 151.  ↩︎
38. J. J. Glück, “Tools for Nāgîd-Shepherd,” Vetus Testamentum 13, no. 2 (1963): 144–150. ↩︎
39. Matthew Michael, “Is Saul the Second Goliath of 1 Samuel? The Rhetoric & Polemics of the David/Goliath Story in 1 Samuel,” Scandinavian Journal of the Old Testament 34, no. 2 (2020): 221–244. ↩︎
40. Barbara Green, How Are the Mighty Fallen? A Dialogical Study of King Saul in 1 Samuel (Sheffield: Sheffield Academic Press, 2003), 286. ↩︎
41. Abraham Kuruvilla, “David Versus Goliath (1 Samuel 17): What is the Author Doing with What He is Saying?”  Journal of the Evangelical Theological Society 56, no. 3 (2015): 487-506, here 492. ↩︎
42. Michael, “Saul the Second Goliath,” 225. ↩︎
43. A. Graeme Auld, I & II Samuel, Old Testament Library (Louisville: Westminster John Knox Press, 2011), 309. ↩︎
44. Auld, I & II Samuel, 211. ↩︎
45. Israel Finkelstein, “The Philistines in the Bible: A Late Monarchic Perspective,” Journal for the Study of the Old Testament 27, no. 2 (2002): 131–167, here 142-48. See also Green, How Are the Mighty Fallen? 286. ↩︎
46. Stuart Macwilliam, “Ideologies of Male Beauty in the Hebrew Bible.” Biblical Interpretation 17 (2009): 265-87, here 278. ↩︎
47. Michael W. Martin, “Betrothal Type-Scenes and the Biblical Narrative,” Catholic Biblical Quarterly 70 (2008): 505–520, here 518.  ↩︎
48. Yael Shemesh, “Measure for Measure in the David Stories,” Scandinavian Journal of the Old Testament 17, no. 1 (2003): 89–109, here 92. ↩︎
49. T. M. Lemos, “Shame and the Mutilation of the Enemy in the Hebrew Bible,” Journal of Biblical Literature 125, no. 2 (2006): 225–41. ↩︎
50. Samuel A. Meier, Speaking of Speaking: Marking Direct Discourse in the Hebrew Bible, Supplements to Vetus Testamentum 46 (Leiden; New York: E. J. Brill, 1992), 75. ↩︎
51. J. P. Fokkelman, Narrative Art and Poetry in the Books of Samuel, vol. 2, The Crossing Fates (Assen: Van Gorcum, 1986), 172. ↩︎
52. Peter J. Leithart, A Son to Me: An Exposition of 1 and 2 Samuel (Moscow, ID: Canon Press, 2003), 98, 100. ↩︎
53. Suzanne M. Millar, “Goliath’s Humanimal Body,” Biblical Interpretation 21, no. 1 (2013): 1–27, here 6 and 7. ↩︎
54. Sidney Greidanus, Preaching Christ from the Old Testament: A Contemporary Hermeneutical Method (Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdmans, 1999), 239. See also Brian A. Verrett, The Serpent in Samuel: A Messianic Motif (Winona Lake, IN: Eisenbrauns, 2012), 2. ↩︎
55. Joyce G. Baldwin, 1 & 2 Samuel, Tyndale Old Testament Commentaries (Leicester: Inter-Varsity Press; Downers Grove, IL: InterVarsity Press, 1988), 127. ↩︎
56. Long, 1 and 2 Samuel, 181-82. ↩︎
57. Marjorie O’Boyle, “The Laws of the Heart in Biblical Israel,” Journal of Biblical Literature 116, no. 4 (1997): 609–22, here 423-25. ↩︎