And Hannah rose up after they had eaten in Shiloh, and after they had drunk; (now Eli the priest sat upon the seat by the door-post of the temple of Jehovah;)
A family meal at Shiloh comes to an end, and one woman gets up from it to go and pray. One sentence puts two figures side by side: a grieving wife on her feet, and Eli the priest seated by the doorpost. Much of what follows turns on that contrast.
There was no stone building at Shiloh yet. The word here describes the tent Israel carried through the wilderness and set up in the land. Scripture gives that tent several names.
The tabernacle had been the house of God in the wilderness. Israel carried it, with all its sacred furniture, into Canaan and pitched it at Shiloh (Joshua 18:1). So this was the place Israel came to with their yearly sacrifices (1 Sam. 1:3). It was still called "the tent of meeting" (1 Sam. 2:22), but also "the temple of the LORD," and "the house of the LORD" (1 Sam. 3:3, 15). These later names only pointed forward to the house that would later be built in Jerusalem.
The verse marks the moment: the eating and drinking were over, and then Hannah got up. Food could not touch what was wrong with her.
One resource remained to her: to present her affliction before the Lord. Only God's heart could give her an answer in grace; so she presents herself before Him at Shiloh. A new trial awaits her there… What suffering! She has no resource in herself; the world is hostile to her; those who bear the Lord's name judge her and do not understand her! How can she eat and drink and rejoice, when her soul's only desire has found no answer?
Eli's posture is not a neutral detail. God gave the priests no seat in that tent.
Eli, the high priest, was a man of much personal piety. He comes before us as a weakened old man sitting by a post of the temple (verse 9). He mistakes the exercises of a godly soul for the ravings of a drunken woman (13). Sitting where God had provided no seat would show a lack of spiritual energy. His mistake about Hannah would show a lack of spiritual discernment.
The seat also shaped how he treated her.
Eli was a stranger to such exercise. He sat on a seat by a post of the temple, in effect sitting as a judge instead of standing as priest… He knew how to reprove her. He did not give the help and compassion which was the very purpose of priesthood (Heb. 5:1-2).
One man in Israel was meant to carry the people's griefs to God. He misread Hannah.
Others went to worship there with their thank-offerings; she drew near with her tears… But here is the remarkable thing in the story. God draws our attention to the high priest himself, who did not share His mind. This was the very man who should have entered into the greatest difficulties of God's people. Here he was among the last to understand. I have no doubt that Peninnah, bad as she was, knew more of the secret of Hannah's grief than Eli did… So at the very start God shows us a failure. Up to that moment this man was outwardly the appointed channel of communication — from God to the people, and from the people to God.
Her tears also had a cause outside her own home.
The sights around the tabernacle doors stirred her devoted heart deeply. The shameless immorality and greed of Hophni and Phinehas told a repulsive tale of wickedness — and that in front of the sanctuary! They flaunted sin in the very face of Israel's God; "men treated the offering of the LORD with contempt"… Eli himself should above all others have understood this. He should have been low in the dust before God over such a shameful state of things. Instead he seemed hardly troubled. A good, easy-going man, he sat calmly at the temple entrance — not to watch and correct his corrupt sons, but to observe, misread and rebuke a godly woman at prayer!
What she asked for was not simply a comfort for herself.
She asked at Shiloh for a son, and she asked for him for Shiloh… There may be two parties at Shiloh who do not understand each other. Eli sits on a post, and Hannah weeps bitterly. But God grants the weeping woman what she asked.
- Place. Shiloh's "temple" was the wilderness tent, set up in the land. Israel brought its yearly sacrifices there.
- Rising. Hannah gets up from a meal that cannot satisfy her, because only God's heart can answer her affliction.
- Sitting. Eli sits where God gave him no seat. The posture marks a man whose spiritual energy has drained away.
- Judging. From that seat he judges instead of serving as priest. He reproves her, where compassion was the whole point of the office.
- Answering. The one no leader understood is the one God hears; she asks for a son at Shiloh, and asks him for Shiloh.
and she was in bitterness of soul, and prayed to Jehovah, and wept much.
Hannah weeps at the one moment you would expect joy: the family feast at Shiloh, Israel's place of worship. Her tears raise two questions: why does sorrow grow sharper in a holy place, and what do you do with grief no one around you understands?
Her hardest moment came where everyone else was celebrating. Peninnah, the rival wife who had children, aimed her taunts at that very setting.
Peninnah looked on Hannah's tender conscience with proud contempt and scorn, and she used this public moment to provoke her. She did it all the more boldly because she could point to her many children as proof of the Lord's blessing, while Hannah's barrenness must be a sure sign of His displeasure. This deepened not only her grief, but her isolation. In the middle of a crowd of outward worshippers, and in the presence of Eli, she was alone — but alone with God.
Her pain had a source and a purpose, and she had a choice about where to take it.
It was God who had closed her womb. I believe He did this to test her faith and to make her pray as she did, so that she might be an example to us of prayer and perseverance, and of God's answer and response. Hannah was persecuted and ridiculed, and she felt it deeply. She might have gone to her husband and complained about the way she was treated. Instead, in verse 10, she prayed to the Lord and wept bitterly.
The man watching her pray was the high priest. His task was to carry the people's case to God, yet he misread her.
Hannah knew how desolate she was as a wife without a child. Grace led her to cast her care on the Lord without judging Him hard toward her. She spreads her soul's desire and grief before Him. Others went to worship there with their thank-offerings; she drew near with her tears… The remarkable feature of the account is this: God points out that the high priest himself did not share His mind. The man who should most of all have entered into the greatest difficulties of the people of God was here among the last to understand her case. The very man who should have pleaded for her, carrying her cry to the Lord as her intercessor, misjudged her instead.
Eli's sons had corrupted the worship at Shiloh, and Hannah's longing for a son reached further than her own grief.
In Hannah's desire for "a man child" we see not only the heart of a mother but the heart of an Israelite. She had, no doubt, seen and mourned over the ruin of everything connected with the temple of the Lord. The dimmed eye of Eli, the vile actions of Hophni and Phinehas, the fading lamp, the desecrated temple, the despised sacrifice — all of it told Hannah that something was truly missing. Only one thing could supply that lack: the precious gift of a man-child from the Lord.
Her name carries the point of her story, and she has to reach the end of her own resources before it becomes true of her.
Hannah has a remarkable trait: her character is that of the believer in every age. Hannah means "grace." But before she answers to her name, she stands for the flesh, unable to bear fruit for God. We must always begin there.
God's way of working runs against every appearance of strength in the chapter.
The story sets before us the barren wife, the persecuting woman, two worthless men as priests, and a feeble, failing old man as high priest. In such circumstances God lets us see His sovereign grace at work. It passes by the strength of nature in the fruitful woman. It works through the weakness of nature in the barren woman. And it abounds over the sin of man in the priests.
Eight verses later she eats again and her face has changed — though nothing outside her has.
How came this difference? Was it a change of circumstances, or the removal of what caused the sorrow? Not at all; the circumstances had not altered; she was still the barren woman. The secret of the change is this: she had poured out her soul before the Lord. The persecution of her enemy, the fretting spirit, the bitterness of soul — she had wept it all out before Him. She pours out her sorrow, and God pours in His peace.
- Pour it out — Hannah took her bitterness of soul to God, not to her husband. That one choice turns the whole chapter.
- Poured out where — she wept at the place of worship. Provoked in front of everyone and alone in a crowd, she was still "alone with God."
- Poured out to One who listens — even the high priest misjudged her. The one man meant to understand her failed her, and God noted it.
- Poured out for more than herself — her longing met the ruin of the temple worship, not just her own emptiness.
- Peace poured in — nothing around her had changed when she rose. She had changed.
And she vowed a vow, and said, O Jehovah of hosts, if thou wilt indeed look on the affliction of thy handmaid, and remember me, and not forget thy handmaid, but wilt give unto thy handmaid a man child, then I will give him to Jehovah all the days of his life, and there shall no razor come upon his head.
A childless woman stands at the sanctuary in Shiloh. Israel's worship had sunk low, and she turns her grief into a vow: give me a son, and I will give him back. Three questions follow. Why does she ask for a son? Why does she call God by a name no one had used before? And what does it cost to give away the thing you begged for?
She asked God for a son, not just for a child. Her reason reached beyond her own home.
And why a man child? Was it just a preference for boys? No; a higher motive moved her — she seems to have had God's glory and the good of His erring people in view. She knew the condition of Israel well. The sons of Eli held the highest position, and what they did told the sad and undeniable tale of "Fallen! fallen!" So her earnest desire goes up to God for a son who might grow up under the blessing of the Lord to be a deliverer in Israel.
Why does she call God the LORD of hosts here? The state of Israel at that moment explains it.
Hannah was alone and shamed. Around her was either spiritual deadness or shameless wickedness. Judgment from the Lord was coming, for He had been dishonoured in His sanctuary. It was at such a moment that it pleased God to reveal Himself by a name which He had not taken before... The time had come for such a revelation of the divine glory. It was well suited to encourage the faith of the weak when hostile power stood against them. Hannah was the first that we read of who cried to the Lord as Jehovah Tzebâôth (the Lord of hosts or armies, 1:11). David also met and overthrew Goliath in the might of that name (17:45).
Three times in one sentence she calls herself God's servant. Older translations read "handmaid" here. Other women in Scripture used the same word of themselves.
These words often refer in Scripture to a female slave, as applied to Hagar the Egyptian, Gen. 25:12; but were also used by women themselves as a term of humility, as when Hannah spoke to the Lord and to Eli, 1 Sam. 1:11, 16, 18; as Abigail to David, 1 Sam. 25:24-41; and by Mary and Elizabeth as handmaids of the Lord. Luke 1:38, 48.
Something changed in Hannah before anything changed around her.
How striking the contrast in Hannah. In verse 7 she cannot eat and weeps in bitterness of soul. In verse 18 she "went her way and did eat and her countenance was no more sad." How did this difference come about? Was it change of circumstances or the removal of that which caused the sorrow? Not at all; the circumstances had not altered; she was still the barren woman. The secret of the change is this: she had poured out her soul before the Lord... Her sorrow is poured out and God's peace is poured in.
The word she used in her vow comes back later as the word for God's answer.
She had prayed, "O LORD of hosts... remember me" (11); now we read, "the LORD remembered her" (19). She gets a son — the man-child she had asked for. The child that she receives from the Lord she gives back to the Lord.
Uncut hair was one mark of a Nazarite, a man set apart for the service of God. Many have read Hannah's promise about the razor that way.
Many expositors have concluded from this that Samuel was a Nazarite. The other two marks of a Nazarite are not mentioned. But Hannah's words do carry the thought that Samuel was to be wholly for God and live for Him: "I will give him to the LORD all the days of his life."
Why hair, of all signs? Because of what it said about the man who wore it.
The long hair of the Nazarite announced to everyone that he had given up his dignity and personal rights as a man, so that he could devote himself to the service of God... He was born to this dignity, yet he set it aside. He was meant to rule, yet he submitted himself to the Lord as a wife to her husband. Without this dependence there can be neither service for God nor power for it. That which was a sign of weakness for the Nazarite became the source of his strength.
- Ruin — Hannah prayed while the priesthood was corrupt. She wanted a son who could be a deliverer in Israel, not just a child of her own.
- Name — she is the first in Scripture to call on the LORD of hosts. God took that name when His people were at their weakest.
- Servant — the word she repeats is a word of humility, later used by Abigail, Mary and Elizabeth.
- Peace — her face changed before her circumstances did. She poured out her sorrow, and God poured in His peace.
- Given back — she asked God to remember her, and He did. The son she received she gave back, marked by uncut hair as one who gave up his standing to serve God.