From the Valley to the Cave: David’s Journey to Greatness
By: Rabbi Benjamin Goldschmidt
Tags: Jealousy, Rosh Hashanah, Israel, Psalms, Judaism

Rosh Hashana Sermon 5782

Park East Synagogue, New York, NY

I want to ask you a personal question: Is there a relationship that is weighing heavily on your heart now? Have you entered the holiday wishing you made a call that eludes you, because of the type of relationship you have with that individual? Is there a person in your life that you feel you have done everything you could do to reconcile with, yet nothing works?

The High Holiday season is the time that we work on our relationship with God, with fellow man, and with ourselves.

Whose voice hovers over this time of the year?

For the past 30 days we have been saying Psalm 27, we recite every day — from the first of Elul through Sukkot — “By David: God is my light and my salvation.”

King David’s words hover over us during the high holidays. It is his words that we often turn to, to express our deepest emotions. What was special about King David, what is unique about this psalm, that he became a voice for prayer for millennia to follow?

What made David great? What was his breakthrough moment?

Here’s what I think is the greatest misunderstanding of David’s story. Yes, popular culture glorifies the battle of David and Goliath, how one young kid defeated the towering giant — it became a symbol for Jewish heroism, the small against the mighty. Malcolm Gladwell even wrote a book called David and Goliath, “Underdogs, Misfits, and the Art of Battling.”

While without question, it was a great accomplishment — I want to suggest that the religious and historical significance is overblown.

Throughout this period of time, the Philistines are attacking the Jewish people again and again. David did not eliminate the threat — he just won one battle. The battle of the valley of Elah was preceded by many other battles, and followed by many others to come. The defeat of Goliath is just like when you hear in the news that the IDF has eliminated top Hamas officers — you know that if it happened by Shacharis [morning prayers], by Mincha [afternoon prayers] their positions have already been replaced.

If you learn the Navi correctly, you understand that the entire story of David and Goliath is a footnote, or perhaps even more appropriately, an introduction to the real battle that David had to wage.

When Goliath falls down to the ground, that was not the triumph of David. That was only when his challenges began.

For the great battle of David’s life was not with Goliath. That battle only lasted perhaps an hour.

His great battle was with his mentor, teacher, father-in-law, and first king of Israel — Saul.

The battle of David and Goliath is described in only 15 verses. The battle of Saul and David, in contrast, stretches over 15 chapters in the Book of Samuel.

David is first introduced to Saul as a lyre-player. He is brought into the royal court to lift the king’s spirits; David is at once a talented musician, a poet, and a warrior. He symbolizes a unique combination of greatness in the intellectual, the spiritual, the musical, and the military.

At first, David and Saul develop a loving relationship — ויאהבהו. David not only plays music for Saul, but he is also a nosei keilim, he carried Saul’s weapons.

But the moment that David defeats Goliath, using a simple slingshot to defeat the giant Philistine — everything changes.

David, upon returning from a battle, is greeted by the singing women of Israel, who proclaim, “Saul has slain his thousands; David, his tens of thousands!” 18:7).

This isthe point that Saul begins to look at him in a different light — Saul decides to keep him closer, he “would not let him return to his father’s house” (18:2). The Navi tells us that Saul is “much distressed and greatly vexed about the matter,” he becomes “hostile to David.” First, Saul isolates David from his family. And as his paranoia grows, as he begins to imagine that David’s success threatens his power — he takes control over David’s everyday life. In a modern version of this sort of palace intrigue, he might have said to David, “I’m keeping a file on you.” Saul even meddles in David’s marriage, in the most sacred union, trying to come between David and his wife, Saul’s daughter, Michal. He tries to demote him, removing him from his elite military position, and then, he spirals out of control — intent on destroying him.

But David is in denial that his mentor, his master, is overcome with envy, a jealousy that becomes life-threatening at one point.

For when David comes to play the lyre for Saul, an evil spirit grips Saul, and he tries twice to throw a spear at his young protégée. David moves away both times, the spear narrowly missing him, yet is not deterred from being a loyal servant.

What is fascinating is that no matter what Saul does, David tries to get back into his good graces. When Saul offers his daughter’s hand in marriage to David, on the condition that he kills 100 Philistines in battle, secretly hoping that David will die in war — David jumps at the opportunity, and even over-delivers, killing 200, in the hopes of appeasing the man he admires, the man who took him from being a mere shepherd and catapulted him into the public eye.

Yet “Saul grew still more afraid of David; and Saul was David’s enemy ever after.” (18:29)

At first, Saul wants to outsource the job of eliminating David to the Philistines, to make it look like David died of natural causes — later, Saul loses all shame and decides to try to do the job himself, overcome with paranoia and obsession.

Frustrated, Saul sends his troops after David to arrest him and have him executed at dawn. Michal, Saul’s daughter and David’s bride, betrays her father and helps David flee through the window.

Now the venerable general and national hero David is a fugitive on the run.

Even now, David still yearns to sit by the side of his master; he asks Saul’s son and his beloved friend Jonathan to find out whether the king’s rage has subsided. Jonathan confirms once again that his father wants him dead.

And so, David runs, asking for shelter in the priestly city of Nob, then escaping to the cave of Adullam, where he gathers four hundred followers, who are described as the “bitter-hearted”, the disgruntled members of society. Saul, in turn, eventually takes out his rage on those who gave David refuge, by ordering the destruction of the entire city of Nob.

David knows how to fight enemies, he’s done it many times already; but when it comes to fighting his very own, he is lost, at times even pleading insanity.

At this point, it’s important to note that Saul is not some villain. It is easy to categorize people as all-good or all-bad. The challenge in life is that often we suffer the most pain from the people closest to us. King Saul is described by the prophet Samuel himself as “humble,” as head and shoulders above others, “there was no one like him.” He is chosen by God as Israel’s first king, after all. After centuries of anarchy and chaos in Israel, and a civil war that almost eradicated the entire tribe of Benjamin, Saul is able to unite a disjointed nation, defend it from invaders and establish the first kingdom.

But now, Saul’s obsession with David has completely overtaken him, and he has lost focus. Chasing David becomes his number-one priority; he has to take breaks from his pursuit of his perceived rival in order to defend his kingdom from Philistine attacks. According to Rashi, at some point he is no longer sure himself which battle takes priority, killing David or defending his nation from major existential crises.

Finally, Saul gets intelligence that David is hiding in the Ein Gedi desert, and Saul heads there with thousands of troops.

And here is where something remarkable happens: Saul arrives in the desert, and he needs to relieve himself.

Being a dignified person, Saul has his guards stand at a distance while he goes to answer the call of nature in a nearby cave.

Imagine David, in his torn clothing, thirsty perhaps, standing in the salty breeze of the nearby Dead Sea, exhausted, terrified, and angry, hiding in the shadows of that very cave. Finally, he has his tormenter completely exposed. His followers whisper to him: This is your chance, put an end to this right here, right now! This is the man who torments you, who has made your life miserable!

And David, holding Goliath’s sword in his hand, looks towards his teacher and mentor, and is unable to strike. Instead, he cuts off a piece of Saul’s royal coat.

As Saul walks out, David follows him and calls out to him: “My master, my king!”

Saul turns around to the familiar voice, and David bows to him. David finally has the chance to unload everything that is on his heart.

It’s just the two of them, alone, in the desert of Ein Gedi.

“Why do you listen to the people who say, ‘David is out to do you harm?’” You can hear David’s voice echoing in the desert.

David shows him the scrap of his coat; I had you in my hands! “Against whom has the king of Israel come out?” David asks. ‘Whom are you pursuing? A dead dog? A single flea?”

You’re the King of Israel! You have everything! International stature, power, wealth. Who are you chasing, a humble insect like me? What does Saul want from David? David just wants to sit in the house of God, as he writes in Psalm 27: “One thing I ask of God, only that do I seek: to live in the house of God all the days of my life!” It’s all he wants from life!

David’s piercing words touch Saul’s heart; Saul is moved to tears, and he calls him, “David my son.” Saul acknowledges that one day, David will be king — but the moment is fleeting, because shortly after the two part ways, Saul returns once again to his obsessive chase.

It is then that David says to himself, “‘Some day I shall certainly perish at the hands of Saul.’” He realizes that at a certain point, he cannot expose himself to danger anymore, that Saul is intent on his destruction and that he can no longer rely on the caves of the desert for safety. It is then that our revered Jewish hero must turn, in humiliation, to Israel’s enemy, the Philistines, to give him asylum; he approaches Achish, the king of Gath, for help. Imagine an IDF general knocking on the doors of Iran because he is on the outs with his superiors. My uncle, Rabbi Benzion Brodie, once told me that the saddest thing about paranoia and mistrust is that it is a self-fulfilling prophecy. When you mistrust people for long enough, you force them to turn on you.

But according to the Metzudat David (Samuel I 27:1), David’s realization is not only that he is no longer safe anywhere in Israel. It is also an internal revelation that after that moment in the cave,there is nothing he can do to salvage this relationship. David knows that he will never play the lyre for his mentor again; he will never carry his armor into battle again.

The cave moment is pivotal; it is the moment in which you’ve done your utmost, you’ve done everything possible, to fix a broken relationship, to no avail.

There are three stages here: First, there is denial that a problem exists, then one attempts a reconciliation — but then, there is dawning acceptance of reality.

That acceptance of reality — it is simultaneously the most painful and most liberating moment.

It is then that David realizes that this is not about Saul anymore. And while this relationship may never be fixed, he understands that God has given him the struggle in order to accomplish greatness he did not even know he possessed.

In Psalm 57, we hear David’s cry from that moment, in a set of verses he wrote “when he fled from Saul into a cave.” We can almost hear that exuberant liberation in his voice: “My heart is firm, O God; my heart is firm; I will sing, I will chant a hymn.”

In our own lives, we should always try our best to repair even the most challenging relationships, to never lose hope. But there are moments in life in which any rational human being understands that they can no longer risk exposing themselves again; that they can no longer take the chance of getting hurt again; that they can no longer take the risk of being lied to again, abused, tormented — it is then that the great human being understands that it’s not about them, it’s about you. And while you’ll never change the person, the way you choose to respond defines who you are.

King David’s glory was not defined by the battle against a giant in the valley of Elah. His greatness was not displayed fully in public, before two nations watching. Rather, it was in the darkness of the cave — in which he showed his moral strength, by not avenging himself, and by allowing God to serve as true judge.

His moral character is defined while in hiding, in his lowest moment, when even then he is able to find the downtrodden and bring them under his wings.

The great warrior of Israel should not only be remembered when he led his army into battle, but rather when he himself was on the run, how he still chose to use his power to help the powerless people of Keila and Tziklag.

David’s greatest moment may have been when, later, David in hiding receives the news that Saul has fallen in his sword in a battle against the Philistines — Saul’s neglect of priorities, in defending his nation from outside threats, has caught up with him.

A young Amalekkite brings him the bloodied crown of Saul. Instead of rejoicing, David tears his clothing and writes one of the most beautiful eulogies for Saul and Jonathan. “How the mighty have fallen!” he cries. “Saul and Jonathan, beloved and cherished, never parted in life or in death! They were swifter than eagles, they were stronger than lions!”

David is able to compartmentalize, to praise his own tormenter for his leadership, to recognize his great achievements despite his personal anguish. Can you imagine, in today’s political climate, a new leader praising an opposition leader?

This is where David as the eternal king of Israel is born.

This is the struggle that will allow him to establish a dynasty that will never end. This is the person who seven years later will enter Jerusalem and make it the eternal capital of Israel and a bedrock of civilization. This is the ancestor of the messianic redemption.

This is the greatness that he achieved while being alone, in a cave, a fugitive on the run.

In the Psalm 27, the one we read throughout this season, David is not asking for victory — because when you are fighting with a loved one, there is no true victory- he is just asking to be strong, to not fear. He is yearning to see that his enemies are all but pieces in a game, aimed at the sole goal of bringing him to dwell in the house of the Lord.

This year, I gave a three-part lecture on how to honor thy difficult parent. The class attendance jumped by 500%. The pain, guilt and struggles that people shared with me when dealing with parents — those who gave them life, yet also those who suffocate them.

Most people think of Judaism as a set of laws governing Shabbat and Kashrut — but the truth is, the Torah is also the greatest guidebook for helping us navigate relationships. When and how to forgive, and when to fight. When to be humble and when to have pride, how to navigate jealousy and vengeance. How to conduct oneself honestly, and how to never lose hope.

The Malbim, commenting on this Psalm 27, writes that when David speaks of his enemies surrounding him, he is speaking of Saul. Faith in the greater meaning of the struggle is the only thing that carried him through.

If you are in an important relationship that is utterly broken, over which you’ve lost hope — let King David hold your hand.

וְעַתָּה יָרוּם רֹאשִׁי עַל אֹיְבַי סְֽבִיבותַ֗י וְאֶזְבְּחָה בְאׇהֳלוֹ זִבְחֵי תְרוּעָה אָשִׁ֥ירָה וַאֲזַמְרָה לַה׳

“Now is my head high over my enemies around me; I sacrifice in His tent with shouts of joy, singing and chanting a hymn to God.”

Let David’s words walk you through the struggle.

קַוֵה אל ה׳ חֲ֭זַק וְיַאֲמֵץ לִבֶּךָ וְקַוֵה אֶל ה׳

“Look to God; be strong and of good courage! O look to God!”

Let David’s verses help you gaze towards heaven and understand that God is sending you this struggle in order to rise above human conflict, to achieve moral greatness, to discover strengths you never knew you had.

Let King David hold your hand.

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Rabbi Benjamin Goldschmidt joined the Park East Synagogue family in 2011. Born in Jerusalem and raised in Moscow, he studied in Bnei Brak’s Ponevezh Yeshiva, Jerusalem’s Chevron Yeshiva, and Beth Medrash Govoha in Lakewood, New Jersey. Rabbi Goldschmidt and his work have appeared in the New York Times, Washington Post, Haaretz, Israel’s Kikar Shabbat and Kan TV, Mishpacha, the Headlines podcast, the Jewish Week, and the Forward. He lives in New York with his wife, Avital, and their two children.

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