1 Samuel
The Book of 1 Samuel: An Introduction
The short answer
1 Samuel opens not with a king or a battle but with a childless woman weeping at a shrine. Hannah, unable to conceive, pours out her grief before God, and when her son Samuel is born she gives him back—handing the boy over to serve at the sanctuary. Then she sings. Her song in 1 Samuel 2:1-10 sounds far bigger than her own story: the mighty are broken, the feeble are strengthened, the hungry are filled, and the poor are lifted from the dust. It ends by celebrating God's "anointed"—a king Israel does not yet have.
That song works as the overture to the whole book. Everything that follows plays out its theme of reversal. The established priesthood of Eli collapses under the corruption of his sons. The people demand a king, and Saul—tall, impressive, the obvious choice—rises and then unravels. Meanwhile David, the overlooked youngest son of a shepherd family, is quietly anointed and lifted up. Hannah's claim that God overturns human rankings turns out to be the plot.
Inside that big arc sits a small, strange scene: young Samuel asleep in the sanctuary, hearing a voice call his name in the night. Three times he runs to Eli, assuming it's the old priest. It isn't. Samuel is being summoned by a boss he doesn't yet recognize, and his answer—"Speak; for your servant hears"—makes him the prophet through whom kings will be made and unmade.
Together these opening chapters pose the question 1 Samuel keeps asking: who actually rules Israel? Not, in the end, Eli or Saul or even David, but the God who reverses fortunes and drafts unlikely people into that work.
What scholars say
Walter Brueggemann considers what kind of prayer Hannah's song really is, suggesting it was a liturgical celebration of God's anointed king before it was placed in its narrative setting—a prayer that belongs on Israel's lips, not only Hannah's. John Goldingay then looks at Samuel's experience in chapter 3 and argues that "summons" captures it better than "call": Samuel isn't offered fulfillment but reports for duty, initially without realizing which boss is asking.
“The “Song of Hannah” in 1 Samuel 2:1–10 is just such a prayer of exuberant celebration. Before the prayer was situated (through editorial process) in the book of Samuel, it is likely that it was an independent liturgical piece that could have been used in a different context before being placed in its present narrative context. There is no compelling necessity that the prayer must be on the lips of Hannah, for this prayer is properly on the lips of Israel. The prayer is a celebration of a newly given king (“anointed,” verse 10), and so may be best situated in the Jerusalem liturgy where the Davidic king is celebrated. The Davidic king is acknowledged as a gift from YHWH, a human agent authorized and empowered to do YHWH’s transformative, revolutionary, justice-bringing work in the earth.”
“Samuel is not called because this will be the way he finds fulfillment (neither is Paul). Given that the connotations of the word “call” have changed, we might do better to use the word “summons” rather than “call” to describe what happens to Samuel or Paul. Samuel gets the idea when he recognizes in the middle of the night that his boss has summoned him to do something, so he reports for duty; he just doesn’t realize which boss it is. (Paul gets the idea when Jesus grabs him by the scruff of the neck and announces the intention to tell him what he is going to do.) I guess there is nothing wrong with people using their gifts to serve God (I hope I do that).”
What it means for you
Hannah's song invites you to read your own circumstances against a larger claim: the arrangements of power that look permanent aren't. If you feel overlooked, that's precisely the position from which this book says God tends to work.
Samuel's night-time summons offers a different challenge. We often talk about finding our calling as a path to personal fulfillment. Samuel's story runs the other way: he is woken up, given a task, and expected to report for duty—before he even knows who is asking. It's worth sitting with the question of what obedience would look like if the point weren't self-discovery but service.
In context
1 Samuel sits at a hinge in Israel's story. The book of Judges ends in chaos, with everyone doing what seems right in their own eyes; 1 Samuel narrates the messy transition from that era to monarchy. It introduces Samuel, the last judge and first great prophet; Saul, Israel's first king; and David, who will dominate 2 Samuel. Hannah's story and song (chapters 1-2) and Samuel's call (chapter 3) form the book's opening movement, before the ark narratives, the demand for a king, and the long rivalry between Saul and David.