“Who’s That Boy?” — Why Saul Doesn’t Recognize David

Bible Believing Christian
3 days ago
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“Who’s That Boy?” — Why Saul Doesn’t Recognize David

When the Older Text Removes a Problem the Later Text Creates

(1 Samuel 17:55–58)

Some textual questions are minor. This is not one of them.

In the plain surface flow of many modern translations, Saul watches David go out against Goliath and then asks Abner, “Whose son is this young man?” Abner claims not to know. Saul presses again. David returns with the Philistine’s head, and Saul asks David directly.

If that were the only data point, the question could be read as a simple inquiry about lineage. But it is not the only data point. The narrative just told us that Saul already knew David, brought him into his service, was refreshed by his music, “loved him greatly,” and even sent to Jesse to request that David remain in his service. On that basis, the plain reading of Saul’s question becomes difficult to defend as merely curious. It feels like a real seam.

That is why this passage is an ideal example of how the oldest textual witnesses can clarify what later streams complicate. The issue here is not whether the Bible is true. The issue is whether every later duplication within the manuscript tradition reflects the earliest form of the narrative. In Samuel, that is often not the case.

Biblical Foundation (NASB)

“Now the Spirit of the LORD departed from Saul, and an evil spirit from the LORD terrorized him.”(1 Samuel 16:14)

“So David came to Saul and attended him; and Saul loved him greatly, and he became his armor bearer.”(1 Samuel 16:21)

“Saul sent word to Jesse, saying, ‘Let David now stand before me, for he has found favor in my sight.’”(1 Samuel 16:22)

“When Saul saw David going out against the Philistine, he said to Abner the commander of the army, ‘Abner, whose son is this young man?’ And Abner said, ‘By your life, O king, I do not know.’”(1 Samuel 17:55)

“Saul said to him, ‘Whose son are you, young man?’ And David answered, ‘I am the son of your servant Jesse the Bethlehemite.’”(1 Samuel 17:58)

Set those passages side by side, and the tension becomes obvious. Saul had already interacted with David and Jesse. The later question, as it stands, appears redundant in a way that strains the story.

Historical & Contextual Notes

First Samuel is one of the Old Testament books where textual history is unusually visible. Even careful readers can sense it: repeated introductions, overlapping scenes, and what appear to be multiple angles on the same event. This does not mean the events are fictional. It means the book’s transmission history includes places where earlier and later forms differ more than in many other books.

That is why 1 Samuel frequently becomes a classroom example in textual studies. The manuscript evidence invites comparison. And in several key places—especially in chapters 16–18—the Septuagint tradition often preserves a shorter narrative stream that reads more coherently.

This is not “editing Scripture to make it work.” It is the disciplined practice of comparing ancient witnesses to discern the earliest attainable form of the text.

Why the Plain Reading Is So Problematic

The simplest description is the most honest: in the Masoretic tradition reflected in many translations, the story can appear to say two things at once.

On the one hand, Saul knows David well enough to bring him into court service, love him, and request him formally from Jesse.

On the other hand, Saul later appears not to know who David is or whose son he is, and Abner appears ignorant as well.

Could someone argue that Saul knew David but not his father? They could. But the text itself has already introduced Jesse to Saul as the man from whom Saul requests David’s continued service. That is why the “lineage-only” explanation often sounds like a patch rather than a solution.

The more plausible conclusion is that we are looking at a duplication or conflation in the later stream: two ways of introducing David have been preserved together in a way that creates the “Saul amnesia” effect.

The Septuagint’s Shorter Stream: The Cleanest Explanation

This is where the Septuagint becomes essential.

In this portion of Samuel, the LXX often reflects a shorter narrative form that reduces duplication and removes the forced tension. The result is a story that reads as a coherent sequence rather than a stitched overlap: David’s entrance into Saul’s orbit is not repeated in a way that makes Saul appear forgetful.

The point is not that the Greek is automatically “better” because it is Greek. The point is that the Septuagint is far older than the medieval Masoretic manuscripts and often witnesses to an earlier underlying Hebrew tradition. The Masoretic Text tradition is valuable and meticulously preserved, but it represents a later standardized stream. When the older witness preserves coherence and the later stream preserves a seam, the responsible conclusion is not to force harmony, but to recognize the likely direction of development.

This is the same kind of situation as Goliath’s height. The later reading became familiar and dominant, but the older evidence points to a form of the text that is more historically plausible and narratively coherent.

In short, the “Saul doesn’t recognize David” problem is best explained not by Saul’s memory failure, but by textual duplication in the later stream—a duplication the older LXX stream helps us see through.

Misconceptions / Clarifications

Some assume that acknowledging a textual seam undermines biblical authority. It does not. It actually strengthens credibility. The Bible has been transmitted through real manuscripts, copied by real scribes. Comparing witnesses is not skepticism; it is stewardship.

Others assume that if there is any textual complexity, then the story is unreliable. That conclusion does not follow. The core event—the defeat of Goliath, the public elevation of David, Saul’s growing instability, and the providential rise of the chosen king—is stable across the tradition. The question is how the narrative introduces and transitions between scenes, and whether later duplications entered the stream.

The textual explanation is both historically responsible and narratively satisfying. It does not require Saul to be irrational. It does not require Abner to be implausibly ignorant. It simply acknowledges that Samuel preserves points where later and earlier forms diverge.

Theological Reflection: Saul Senses What He Cannot Stop

Even in the Masoretic form, the theological direction is clear: Saul is losing the story. He is no longer governing events; he is reacting to them.

David’s victory is not merely military success. It is providential unveiling. The shepherd is stepping into national history, and Saul’s house will soon feel that shift.

Whether Saul’s question is preserved as an inquiry about lineage or as a vestige of a duplicated introduction, the effect is the same: David is no longer anonymous, and Saul’s regime is now under quiet judgment. The king who rejected God is now forced to stare at the instrument of God’s next chapter.

Connection to Christ

David’s emergence from obscurity into public recognition foreshadows Christ’s unveiling.

Jesus is known in one sense—raised in a town, recognized by face, addressed by name—and yet misunderstood in another. Leaders debate His origin and authority even when the data is in front of them. The question becomes not simply “Who is He?” but “What do we do with Him?”

David’s identity question points forward to the deeper one the Gospels press on every reader: not merely whose son Jesus is, but who He truly is. David is the son of Jesse of Bethlehem. Jesus is the Son of David of Bethlehem—and far more than that.

Christ-Centered Conclusion

The “Saul amnesia” tension is real in the later textual stream, and it does not deserve evasive answers. Saul’s earlier relationship to David and Jesse makes the plain surface reading difficult. The cleanest explanation is textual: Samuel preserves evidence of duplication in this section, and the older Septuagint tradition frequently reflects a shorter stream that removes the narrative awkwardness.

As with Goliath’s height, the oldest witnesses do not weaken Scripture. They clarify it. They help the story read like what it is: a historically grounded narrative of God raising a king, humbling the proud, and delivering His people through the one He appoints.

And that story, in the end, points beyond David to the greater King—chosen, anointed, and revealed in God’s timing—whose victory would not merely silence a taunting enemy, but crush sin and death themselves.