Delilah, the Woman who Broke Samson

 

He eats like a wild man, she thought to herself as she lounged on a soft couch of pillows. Samson took the roast in both hands, tearing the meat from the bone with his teeth. The grease from the meat dripped down his chin, and landed on the fine tunic she had bought for him. It was dyed and embroidered, and did nothing to disguise the taut muscles that bulged over his chest. She tipped her head and bit her full lip, her body thrilling at the sight of him. He might be savage, but he was utterly captivating.

      She reached out a soft, delicate hand to take the goblet from the table and drank sparingly of the expensive wine. She had to keep her wits about her tonight. She looked at the Israelite over the rim of her cup. Three times she had tried to draw his secret from him, and three times he had made her out to be a fool. She sighed, rose gracefully, and adjusted her dress. It was of the most delicate scarlet linen, and was very costly. She walked through the elegantly decorated room to the engraved, wooden chest and opened it. The coins were nearly spent. She slammed it closed, putting her back to the reminders of looming poverty, and focused her eyes on the barbarian who had shared her bed for months. Eleven hundred pieces of silvers were promised to her. All she had to do was bring the strongest man in the world to his knees. Her ruby coloured lips curled. If anyone could seduce Samson, she could.

     She remembered the first time she had seen him swaggering through town. She had heard of his might, how he had killed a thousand men with only the jawbone of donkey; how he had carried away city gates; how he had burned ripened fields. From the stories told of him, it seemed like he hated her people, yet he couldn't seem to stay away from the superior culture of the Philistines. Of course, how could he not be drawn in by their sophistication? Samson was one of the people who had emerged from the wilderness with the ridiculous claim that the land had been promised to them by an invisible, unseen god. Busy curating her position in society, Delilah had given the rural, backwards Isaelites little thought, until Samson had locked eyes with her. She shivered with pleasure as she remembered how his eyes had caressed every curve of her figure, burning her with his desire. She had coyly dropped her gaze, and turned her back on him. Just as she intended, her rebuff only fueled his lust.

     Now, she went and sat beside Samson, draping herself over him as he licked his fingers clean. She toyed with one of the long braids that hung well past his waist, and caressed his cheek. His eyes turned on her and fell to her exposed cleavage. Hunger leaped into his eyes, but not for food. She let him kiss and hold her, but when she felt his desire burned hottest, she pulled away, turning away from him.

     “What's wrong now?” he asked, his tone cajoling.

     “You know exactly what is wrong,” she said, casting a look over her shoulder in what she knew was a pretty pout. “You say you love me, yet you refuse to share your secrets with me!”

     Samson let his head fall back and groaned loudly. “This again? Will you never stop!” She turned her face away from him. He pulled her roughly towards him, and she gave into his caresses for a moment before twisting away again. He tried to seduce her, but she continued the complaints which she had rained down on him for days. Her own ears were weary of hearing her wheedling, pleading tone and her constant badgering, surely he must be ready to give in!

     “Enough woman!” he cried out at last. He drew her to him, his face mere inches from her own. She could feel his hot breath on her cheeks. His fiery eyes flicked over her face, and rested on her lips. “A razor has never touched my head, it is a solemn oath to God since I was in my mother's womb. If my hair was cut, I would be as weak as any other man.”

     She could see in his eyes that he told her the truth at last, and her heart leaped. Finally, the money would be hers!

     The next evening, everything was prepared. Samson fell asleep with his head upon her lap. She caressed his face, marveling that such a powerful man was in her thrall. She was almost sad that their time together was ending. Her eyes flicked to her depleted money box. She beckoned to her manservant, who was waiting to cut the seven braids from Samson's head.

     An hour later, Samson was gone, dragged away by the Philistines. His curses still rung in her ears, and she looked down on the braids that had fallen on her couch. It was a shame that the fame she had curated as the woman Samson loved would fade. She picked up a braid. Perhaps she needed a memento, to remind the people that it had been she who had brought the powerful Israelite to his knees.

     Months later, Delilah went to the sacrificial feast for her god, Dagon. She dressed in her finest clothes, but instead of jewels she wore the belt she had made from Samson's hair. She felt admiring eyes on her as she smoothly worked the room, laughing at jokes, lightly drawing a hand over the right arm, casting her eyes demurely to the ground, but then peeking upwards again. The braziers flickered in the twilight as three thousand of her people reveled in wine and good food. Delilah climbed the steps to the roof, where the richest members of society had gathered. The lord of the city saw her, and beckoned her over. She took his proffered hand, and looked prettily around herself as he spoke loudly to the huge crowd,

     “The Israelites try to say their god is more powerful than Dagon! Yet, our god has given Samson, our enemy, into our hands!” Goblets were raised and cheers reverberated around the great, pillared hall. Delilah thrilled as the eyes of so many powerful men looked her way. The lord of the city continued, “Send for Samson! Let's see this great Israelite for ourselves!”

     Samson was brought in to the lower level, and the great stone building shook with taunts and laughter. Delilah went to the balustrade and looked down upon the ruined man beneath her. He was blinded, dressed in rags, his large hands rough with hard labor. His head was bowed. Was he praying to his weak god? She scoffed at him. She turned away from him and made a joke, making sure everyone could see the belt she had made of Samson's hair.

     Suddenly, the floor beneath her feet lurched, and laughter turned to screaming. Delilah dropped her cup, and was momentarily dismayed as the sloshing wine ruined her new dress, before fear gripped her heart as the floor completely gave way beneath her.

Read this story for yourself!  Judges 13-16

My thoughts:

     From a historical standpoint, I was surprised to learn that the Philistines were the advanced society of their day. They had a well developed culture with art, fashion, fine homes, all sorts of tradespeople, and their blacksmiths made skilled weapons and armor. In the eyes of the world, the Philistines far outstripped the rural Israelites. Is it any wonder that Israel's people were tempted and swayed by these people? How easy it is to forget the mighty deeds of the true God, when the proof of the power of the false god Dagon is right before your eyes as you look at everything these Philistines have: wealth, power, favor and sophistication.

    Samson, who wore the vow to the Lord on his very head in his uncut hair, and who had unnatural, God given strength coursing through his limbs, was not immune to the temptations of a dazzling culture. While he kept the outward symbol of alliance to God, his heart was chasing his own desires. It took him being blinded and enslaved to turn to God in prayer, and for God to use Samson to deal the enemies of the Lord a crushing blow.

Your turn!

We don't do battle for the Lord in a physical way anymore, and I'm happy about that! As you strive to stay true to God in our modern times, do you ever find the culture of our day trips you up? What do you do when you feel tempted to put aside what you know is right, in favor of pleasure, power, or conformity?