Chor. All is best, though we oft doubt, [ 1745 ]
What th' unsearchable dispose
Of highest wisdom brings about,
And ever best found in the close.
Oft he seems to hide his face,
But unexpectedly returns [ 1750 ]
And to his faithful Champion hath in place
Bore witness gloriously; whence Gaza mourns
And all that band them to resist
His uncontroulable intent,
His servants he with new acquist [ 1755 ]
Of true experience from this great event
With peace and consolation hath dismist,
And calm of mind all passion spent.
—John Milton, Samson Agonistes
The last poem John Milton ever wrote—at least as far as we know—is a play about the end of Samson’s life. Samson was a notable figure for Milton: Milton, too, was blind; Milton, too, felt like he had failed his nation in his divine calling; Milton, too, found himself married to a woman he didn’t like. It is a palpably personal story, brimming with autobiography and pathos and companionship with the blind judge of Israel.
But my love for Milton and his poem has done little to diminish my distaste for his subject. Samson is a dirtbag. He abuses his God-given strength at every turn and is absolutely sordid in his violence and sexuality. That the author of Hebrews includes him in the famous “hall of faith” chapter has always been inscrutable to me, like Peter calling Lot “righteous” in one of his letters.
So, what can we learn from a man who brought his suffering upon himself? That is the subject of Eleonore Stump’s tenth chapter, which looks in-depth at this deeply flawed man. Her focus in this chapter is on what she calls “Self-Destroying Evil.” Compared to Job, a man who did nothing to merit his suffering, Samson has it coming. We might feel the mild compassion of a sinner for a fellow sinner at his plight, but we do not find his capture and blinding unjust. He has done far worse with far less provocation.
The theological question Stump wishes to parse in this chapter is whether it would have been better for Samson to never have been born. If God knew the outcome of his life, wouldn’t it have been better for Samson if he never existed? This question expands, clearly, beyond the biblical figure to any unrepentant perpetrator of evil. Here is what’s at stake, voiced in Stump’s philosopher-ese.
If it can be shown that even a person whose own evil acts have broken him and left him in unspeakable suffering has available to him benefits that render his life a great good for him, then there is an a fortiori [stronger] argument to the possibility of such redemption of suffering in other less disturbing cases.
Samson’s Sin
I remember pondering the Samson story as a kid and deciding he was pretty stupid. (By the way, Judges made excellent reading for a kid bored during church.) I mean, Delilah attempts multiple times to conjure his secret from him and even when she eventually does so, he wakes up the next morning confused as to why his strength has left him. What did he expect? Either he believed that this time Delilah would not use the information against him or he just stopped caring whether she did or not. But this would make the story irrational. Samson is clearly flustered by his loss of strength.
It has been the tradition to see Samson’s sin as, more or less, loose lips. If he could have withstood Delilah’s pestering pleas, everything would have stayed hunky-dory.
It is important to remember that Samson’s tragedy is not merely personal; it is also a national catastrophe. God prophesies over Samson’s birth that he will be the figure to liberate Israel from the Philistines. And here he is, shacking up with Philistines and then blinded and held captive by them. It is a collective fall for which Samson is responsible.
Stump relays six different events in Samson’s chronicle that show him using his strength. Interestingly, in three of these cases, the author makes no mention of Samson doing what he did when the Spirit of the Lord came upon him. There seems to be a latent distinction in the narrative between times when Samson’s use of strength is God-given and God-approved and times when he is merely being petty or seeking vengeance.
This meaning can be obscured given the nonjudgmental tone of the book of Judges. The author never weighs in, saying “This is bad!” So, we can view all of Samson’s actions as being Spirit-guided even when it’s clear that they are not.
In each of these cases, Samson is fighting less for the good of his own people than to accomplish his own desires. For example, when he burns the Philistines’ fields and kills a bunch of them after his father-in-law gives his wife to another man, no one would logically connect this to the liberation of the Israelites. He’s just an angry, violent man seeking revenge.
The same holds true for his affair with Delilah (the two never marry). In no way does his relationship with her have anything to do with liberating his people. He uses his God-given strength as a means for seeking his own gain.
It therefore appears that when he tells her his secret he does not believe the cutting of his hair will remove his strength. He forgets the true source of his strength and believes he can maintain it on his own. Here is how Stump phrases it: “To rely on having the gift and to be willing to dispense oneself from its demand [Israelite liberation] is to treat God as if he were in Samson’s service.” His strength is not in his hair, but in the Lord; however, his strength departs when he so uncaringly allows his hair to be cut.
Earlier in the book, Stump covered the topics of “closeness” and “love.” It is clear that Samson’s closeness to God has been severely disparaged. Samson’s desire for his own desires and his use of his strength for his own purposes show how far he has fallen away from God’s will. When he prays for water after the battle of Lehi, it is more as if he is demanding water from God, as if God needs him so much that he can’t complete his mission without Samson. He begins to doubt the source of his strength, wondering if it does not in fact emanate from him.
By the end of his life, he is a pathetic version of what he might have been. He no longer desires God or his mission.
Samson’s Triumphant Redemption
So, can Stump make good on her proposition at the beginning? Would it have been better for Samson to never have been born? Well, after his blinding, he does appear to change. While hauled before the Philistines in their temple to serve as an object of derision, Samson prays again. His tone is completely different. Where before he demanded, now he petitions. Where before he failed to invoke God, this time he does it twice. In the first prayer, he took God for granted; in the second prayer, he knows that the granting of his request is up to God alone.
It is this final prayer that likely merits Samson’s inclusion in Hebrews 11. And his prayer is not perfect. It seems, again, as if he cares more for his own hardship than for the liberation of his people. He also concocts the plan on his own. He is not all the way back to faithfulness, but he has turned in the right direction. As Stump has it: “God returns to Samson when there is just enough of Samson’s turning to God to enable God to come close to Samson.” He gestures; God responds.
Samson also ended his life with success and glory. Despite being motivated by personal reasons, he does successfully undermine the Philistines’ dominance in Israel. During the moment of his maximal humiliation, God allows him to destroy his enemies. God gives him the glory. In an imperfect way, at the end of life, he is precisely what he was designed to be.
And what brought about this change in him other than his suffering? Without this, how could he have effected this transformation? Because of his suffering, he achieves a glory impossible without it. His softness of heart redeems him. His closeness to God is restored.
If this is true for Samson, Stump argues, it can be true for others. Other evil people might be able to experience similar redemption, despite their wasted lives. Therefore, it is never possible to say that it is better for people to never have lived. If Samson’s “Self-Destroying Evil” is redeemable, so is anyone else’s.