PLGRM

There once was a man named “Nabal.” The Bible says he was very rich, owning 3,000 sheep and 3,000 goats. The Bible also says he was “surly and mean.” Nice.

We meet Nabal because the main character of the story at the time, David, was on the run from King Saul and was camping out in the wilderness near where Nabal lived. His shepherds had been taking the flock out into the hills to graze, and there they they met David and his men. David, being a former shepherd himself, knew the dangers of being out in the wild with a flock of sheep and had protected Nabal’s men from harm. When it came time to shear the animals, David decided to ask for a favor.

He sent some of his men to Nabal to tell the sheep farmer how David had guarded his shepherds and flock and that they would like to come around on the day when the shearing feast was happening. If there was any food and wine to spare, David wondered if Nabal would be so kind as to let them eat. It seemed the least Nabal could do, David reckoned, given that he had made sure valuable property and employees were cared for and safe. But when asked if he might allow these men to stop by for dinner, Nabal answers: “David? Son of Jesse? I have no idea who you’re talking about.”

This response was patently absurd. David was an extremely popular guy at this point in the story. He had married the king’s daughter and was best friends with the king’s son. He rose to prominence by killing the giant Goliath, and the Bible said:

“All Israel and Judah loved David.”

If all that wasn’t enough, Nabal was a member of the Tribe of Judah just like David. Of course he knew who David was!

By the time we meet Nabal, a sort of civil war had broken out between Saul and David. Saul was in a rage because the whole nation appeared to love David more than him. And not simply the nation, but his own family. His daughter, Michel, David’s wife, had helped him to escape her father. His son, Jonathan, David’s best friend, had conspired to keep him safe and warned him of his father’s intentions. This all sent Saul into a rage, but even he wasn’t able to deny that God’s favor had found a new place to rest. When David had a chance to kill Saul but refrained, Saul admitted he was a man of goodness and acknowledged he would one day be king. But that didn’t stop Saul from pursuing him, which is why we find David hiding in the nearby wilderness. 

Nabal’s refusal to let his fellow tribesman celebrate and eat at the sheep shearing was not only an insult, it was a calculated one. He knew Saul and David wouldn’t fight forever, and he needed to make a choice as to which side he was on. David may have been popular but he was not the king. The smart money was on Saul, and Nabal would have wanted to stay on his good side. As a wealthy man who wanted to maintain his status, the last thing he needed was for the king to suddenly take issue with him as he had with David. Nabal may have been rich and powerful, but the king was more so.

David cared nothing about this, however. From where he stood, a well-off relative had refused him a small bit of food and place to rest. He wasn’t going to let this stand.

“Surely it was in vain that I protected all that this fellow has in the wilderness, so that nothing was missed of all that belonged to him; but he has returned me evil for good. God do so to David and more also, if by morning I leave so much as one male of all who belong to him.”

David was going to make him pay, but, before he could, Nabal’s wife intervened.

“My lord, do not take seriously this ill-natured fellow, Nabal; for as his name is, so is he; Nabal is his name, and folly is with him.”

In the Hebrew imagination “nabal” euphemistically meant “fool.” Its original definition was “to wilt” and, over time, had morphed into “failure.” There was another word (kesil) that literally meant “fool,” but that’s not the one Nabal’s wife, Abigail, used.

She was telling David her husband was a fool.

Ouch.

He was a fool because he was a failure. He was a fool because he had not met the moment. He had “wilted” due to his fear of Saul. He was a fool because he looked at the fact that someone had taken care of him, his flock, and his servants, and decided none of that was worth honoring. 

In the Old Testament, there are 18 different instances of “nabal” being used to mean “fool” or “foolish.” In each case, the context is clear: A fool is someone who has been presented with the fact that they are protected and cared for, and, instead of honoring that care – in their arrogance – they deny it.

One of those 18 instances is Psalm 14:1:

“Fools say in their hearts, ‘There is no God.’ They are corrupt, they do abominable deeds; there is no one who does good.”

This Psalm is traditionally attributed to David, and I can’t help but think his experience with the actual Nabal informed his thoughts here.

To be a fool is to deny God.

Fools go about their days, acting selfishly – tyrannically, even! – because they have said “in their hearts, ‘There is no God.’”

“In their hearts” is an interesting phrase here. Our modern ears will read about the heart and associate it with strongly held feelings or emotions, the things that define us but that we struggle to name. Having a “change of heart,” for instance, means we now feel differently than we did. But the ancient Hebrew imagination was different than ours. Yes, the heart was where feelings lived, but it was also the place of the intellect and the will. The heart was a place of intentionality. To say anything “from the heart” would have meant a choice, belief, or understanding had been carefully considered and weighed. All relevant information would have been taken in to account.

So when a fool (nabal) says in their heart that there is no god, this is not a small thing. Much like their biblical namesake, fools see and know that God is a truth and a reality… yet they deny it anyway.

Now…

You might be a bit upset in this moment because you feel like I just called you a fool. Perhaps you are one of those who can’t, with good conscience, say you “believe in God.” Maybe you look at science and the cosmos, and wonder how anyone in their right mind can think there’s some old dude in the sky pulling strings.

Fair enough. I get it and I don’t blame you.

But here’s what I’m willing to bet:

The god you say you don’t believe in, is also a god I don’t believe in.

So let’s start at the beginning, shall we? If we agree that there’s “something more” to this world than what we can see and perceive, is it possible to know anything about this “something”?

Next time…