THE NAZARITE
The Untold Story of Samson & Delilah
Serialized Fiction
Growing up, Samson and Delilah was one of my favorite bible stories. The great Israelite and strongman, able to kill a lion with his bare hands, defeat an army of one-thousand strong with the jawbone of an ass, plus many more captivating Herculean feats. Plenty of heroics to impress a young boy.
During the writing of my latest book—Thunder Falls, I make reference to Samson and Delilah, causing me to ponder the fantastical story once again. What a wonderful tale of great and outrageous feats, as well as an intriguing love affair between an Israelite and a Philistine. It was this relationship, in particular, that raised my brow.
Why did Samson divulge his sacred secret with the vixen—Delilah? A secret so dear, that his life depended upon keeping it private. Yet he tells Delilah, and by doing so, is taken captive. His eyes are gored out and is sentenced to be sacrificed to the Philistine god—Dagon.
I imagined Delilah, armed with nothing more than her exquisite beauty, and cunning deceit, enticing the lustful Samson by pushing him beyond the limits of their love making. Why else would the Nazarite give up the key to his great strength, unless lured by forbidden, erotic desires?
Like a shark smelling blood in the water, I became driven to write this untold story. It's points a view are through the eyes of Samson, and a Philistine scribe—Mizar, whose assigned the task of writing upon parchment, the events of Samson's magnificent life.
The Nazarite - The Untold Story of Samson & Delilah will offered in sequential installments, much like the format of a streaming service show. Stay tuned for its release.
A Passage from The Nazarite:
The Sacrifice
Never had so many Gazans crammed into the courtyard. On the balconies, people stood at least six deep, trying to peer over or around one another. Even the stairwells were chock full, offering no clear pathways without squeezing or pushing one’s way through.
Upon the altar stood the Vizier directing a group of men dressed in ivory colored, linen robes, as they prepared a few last minute details for the harvest celebration, culminating with the Nazarite’s sacrifice to Dagon.
A collective gasp, caught my attention. The crowd hushed, followed by hundreds of outstretched arms all pointing in one direction. I followed and found Delilah entering the courtyard through an archway leading from our Lord’s chamber.
Exuberant cries and repeated shouts of Delilah – Delilah - Delilah, filled the courtyard. No doubt the vixen had become recognized as Gazan’s standout heroine, soon to have her fame and legacy emblazoned upon the city once she plunges the sacrificial knife into Samson’s belly.
Delilah climbed the steps and stood alongside the Vizier. Her face seemed ashen, loss of its lovely olive complexion, though being a good distance away, I wasn’t sure if the shadows were deceiving me.
The Vizier held out his hands, quieting the incessant chatter. “Citizens of Gaza,” he began and paused, allowing a moment for the voices to settle. “We are proud, after a full turn of the sun, to offer our gratitude to Dagon, the great provider of life and prosperity to our people, for an abundant harvest.”
An invigorated cheer forced the Vizier to take a breath.
“Tonight we offer Dagon, a sacrifice like none before,” he said and looked off to his left. He flicked his fingers, summoning someone waiting out of sight.
First came the distinctive rattle of chain. Then he appeared, and the people responded with a collective—“Ahh!”
Samson, the defeated, blinded warrior, walking on stage accompanied with shouts of—Kill Samson! Slice him open! Let his guts spill out! Bleed him!
Delilah put her hand to her mouth, as the Vizier directed the soldiers to bind Samson to the two massive stone columns, which appeared to be supporting the wooden timbered ceiling.
I studied Samson, though still blind, he seemed not to be the same disabled, weak and broken man I first met six days ago. Adorned only in a leather skirt, held up with a belt of rusted chain links, his chest bare, displaying layers of muscle that rippled and bulged. Even his luscious hair had grown back, falling over his shoulders.
The soldiers led Samson to the space between two massive columns and bound his arms and legs outwards, like a starfish. Once chained, the Vizier spoke into the ear of a soldier who nodded in response and ran off. Moments later, to the sounds of drums holding a steady beat, our Lord strode through the grand archway and onto the stage. In unison, the thousands watching the grand event, dropped to their knees and bowed their heads.
Our Lord held out his arms, closed his eyes, and nodded as if he was drinking in the devotion of his people. “Rise Gazans. Allow me to honor you,” he said bringing everyone to their feet. “Tonight we celebrate you and your accomplishments by worshipping Dagon with this sacred sacrifice.”
Thousands chanted Dagon – Dagon – Dagon. The voices bounced off the stone walls, echoing into a deafening roar.
Once settled, our Lord waved over Delilah to join him. He put an arm around her slender shoulders and said, “Who would have believed that this distinction is not given to one of my brave Philistine soldiers. But instead, is bestowed upon this woman, who saved our people by bringing the great Samson to his knees. Not by the power of the sword, but by her cunning and unrivaled beauty. Let us praise thee—Delilah of Gaza.”
The uproarious cheer shook the temple, causing streams of dust to escape between the chunky ceiling boards. Delilah acknowledged the admiration with a diminutive wave and a forced smile, doing her best to disguise her inner anguish.
The admiration was quelled when the Vizier put a hand upon Delilah’s back and guided her over to the stone table adorned with a deep blue cloth, and trimmed with a gold band. The only object lying there was a long blade featuring a bejeweled handle.
The Vizier handed it to Delilah then gestured with a sweep of his arm over to Samson. She slowly reached for the handle and held it outwards. She took a small step toward her lover. Samson, sensing her approach, jerked his arms, rattling the chains. Frightened, Delilah dropped the knife.
The crowd gasped.
Delilah looked down, took a breath and bent over to pick it up. She straightened and stared wide-eyed at the weapon. With that, whispers of doubt spread among the onlookers. They seemed to come to the conclusion that Delilah lacked the ability to see this through. Then, without taking another step, Delilah affirmed the cynics by tossing the knife aside, and dashing from the stage.
Thousands of eyes followed as she pushed her way through the crowd, and joined me, by my side under the grand archway leading toward the temple doors. I put an arm around her and said, “It’s okay Delilah.”
When I returned my gaze to the stage, the Vizier was consulting with our Lord, apparently considering how to proceed. Seeming to have agreed, the Vizier picked up the knife and walked over to the front of the stage to where the priests had gathered. He pointed to one of the holy man, which I could not identify from where I stood.
While we waited to learn who would have the honor of plunging the knife into Samson, the Nazarite interrupted the proceedings.
“Oh Yahweh, I plead, do not forsaken me,” he cried out. With these words, the temple fell silent. “I pray to you, strengthen me one last time. Return to me the power once given as my birthright, as Nazarite upon the earth. Allow me to bestow onto these unholy what they deserve for taking my eyes!” A great hush awaited Samson. “Yahweh,” he continued, “let me die alongside these uncircumcised Philistines!”
Then, with the power of his god enabling him, Samson jerked upon the chains. At first, they snapped taught. Samson gritted his jaw and yanked once more upon his bindings. In response the columns cracked, causing chunks of stone to break off. Shouts of fright rung out. I along with others, familiar with the temple’s construction, worried Samson could pull down the two load bearing supports holding up the ceiling that covered the entire courtyard.
The Vizier ordered the soldiers to stop the madman. Several responded by nocking arrows onto their bows and letting loose a barrage. They struck, burying deep into Samson’s torso and legs. Blood ran rivers down his body, dripping into a puddle at his feet. But that did little to diminish the power bestowed upon the Nazarite. He continued to yank upon the taught chains until the columns began to crumble.
Panic ensued. Gazans rushed to escape. But they were packed in too tight making them unable to find any exits. In the meantime, Samson remained undeterred, even with the flock of arrows piercing his body. With one last cry to Yahweh, Samson flexed his mighty arms and down came the columns, along with the timbered ceiling, followed by the temple walls.
A deafening roar rose, as if the earth had cracked opened, wanting to reclaim its white stone. Blocks upon blocks dislodged and crumbled. Bowls of dust clouds filled the air, forcing my eyes to water and my throat to go parched.
Luckily, from where we huddled, Tesha, Delilah, and I were protected from the falling debris, due to the sturdy stone archway above our heads. But for the rest, many thousands, were all buried under the rubble, including the Vizier, our Lord and the Nazarite—Samson.
