The following meditation was written by Dr. Hood’s son, Nathanael Hood, MA, New York University; MDiv, Princeton Theological Seminary
“After David came back from killing the Philistine, and as the troops returned home, women from all of Israel’s towns came out to meet King Saul with singing and dancing, with tambourines, rejoicing, and musical instruments. The women sang in celebration:
‘Saul has killed his thousands,
but David has killed his tens of thousands!’
Saul burned with anger. This song annoyed him. ‘They’ve credited David with tens of thousands,’ he said, ‘but only credit me with thousands. What’s next for him—the kingdom itself?’ So Saul kept a close eye on David from that point on.”
(1 Samuel 18:6-9, Common English Bible)
For almost a decade now, I’ve kept a personal practice of reading through the entire Bible once per calendar year. I do this with the help of an online guide that divides the entire book into 365 bite-sized chunks, each taking 10-15 minutes to read. This practice has deepened my relationship with God in ways I can scarcely describe, but it’s also had the odd side effect of permanently associating certain parts of the Bible in my mind with certain parts of the year. For example, for me, January is synonymous with stories of God’s creation of the world, of Noah and the ark, of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob, and of Joseph’s bondage in Egypt. Likewise, the coming of summer in June and July means the Psalms; the arrival of cold weather in October, the Gospels; and the month of April—the time I am currently writing this meditation—the epic saga of the Kings of Israel.
The stories of these kings and the rise and fall of their kingdoms are some of the most dynamic in the entire Bible, full of battles won, and wars lost, of secret prophecies and even more secret magics, of doomed families and lost lineages. Put simply, I’ve come to associate the month of April with stories that would make the greatest fantasy authors, from J. R. R. Tolkien to George R. R. Martin, green with envy. The crown jewel of these April stories—for me, at least—involves King David, the most famous and revered of the biblical kings of Israel. David, shepherd son, and Goliath-slayer, father of Solomon and author of the Psalms, has one of the richest, most extensive narratives of any single character in the entire Bible. And, perhaps unexpectedly for such a towering figure, he spends much of his youth powerless and fleeing for his life.
I’ll not summarize the whole story here—these meditations do have a word count limit—but suffice it to say that soon after entering the biblical narrative, David finds himself at odds with King Saul, the first king of Israel, the man whose throne he would one day usurp. The Bible portrays King Saul as a tragic figure, a once-righteous man whose flaws—many of which could be interpreted by modern readers as mental illnesses—lead to his downfall and death. At first, he loves David like a son, welcoming him into his court and enlisting him as a warrior in his armies. But David’s divinely-guided success on the battlefield quickly curdles Saul’s affections. In the eighteenth chapter of 1 Samuel, the situation comes to a head when fresh from a military success, Saul’s subjects sing a song comparing his and David’s exploits on the battlefield, lauding the latter over the former. As noted biblical scholar Walter Brueggemann points out, “The triumph belongs to both of them…there is enough joy for both to share fully.”1 But instead of sharing in this joy, instead of feeling gratitude for the excellent service of his subject, Saul becomes consumed with jealousy. From that point on, Saul never trusts David again. From that point on, Saul’s days as king are numbered.
There are two powerful lessons here for those with ears to listen. First, jealousy cannot coexist with gratitude. It poisons our minds and short-sights our outlooks. Saul could have accepted David’s success with gratitude—his victories strengthened his kingdom and humbled his enemies! But his jealousy warped an ally into a foe, one he would eventually hound into exile and lose his throne pursuing. Second, true gratitude isn’t selfish; it’s selfless. Gratitude that comes from a loving heart rejoices in the successes of others and doesn’t wallow in self-pity. Self-pity leads to jealousy, which, as my April readings prove year after year, leads to self-destruction.
Joy,
1Walter Brueggemann, First and Second Samuel: Interpretation: A Bible Commentary for Teaching and Preaching (Louisville, KY: John Knox Press, 1990), 136
Nurture Faith with Dr. Doug Hood 
One reply on “Jealousy, the Enemy of Gratitude”
well done Nate! I’m also partial to the story of Naaman- your dad preached on that decades ago. What a great pair of faithful and inspiring men you are!
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