In the Bible, the Israelites celebrated David as their kingdom-making king of kings who rounded up a band of thirty mighty men to smite the neighbors into submission.  Kind of like his own personal army, all of whom served him well so long as they got their share of the booty. Along the way, he formed a proper army for the heavy work and sired Solomon, who succeeded him when he died, though not quite as effectively.

But let’s roll things back to David’s early days. On the evidence of the book of 1 Samuel, young David enjoyed advantages. He was a good looking kid, and skillful at music, enough to attract the fond attention of King Saul. Still, he was a shepherd boy and small of stature, small enough that he could not carry a suit of armor like the rest of Saul‘s fighting force. When the fateful encounter with gigantic Goliath lined up, we form an image of a lopsided episode of single combat – – mighty warrior clad in armor standing down a slight lad wearing a shepherds tunic.

We all know what happened. David twirled a rock smack into Goliath’s noggin, then chopped his head off before the giant regained his wits, poor lug. Seems an unlikely scenario, but just think about it. Let’s say that David’s sling was three feet long from the grip to the pouch where the stone rested. Sort of like facing a pitcher with a 6 foot arm. So… Plenty of exit velocity for the rock.  How about accuracy?

For starters, drop the idea of a slingshot from your mind – – the Y-shaped wooden thing with a thick rubber band you used to shoot acorns at your pals. Not that. No. A shepherd’s sling is a slender strip of hide with a wide spot in the middle. Park a rock in that wide spot, then bring the ends together, so the rock dangles down.  One end of that sling secures a little dowel you grip between middle fingers; the other end you pinch between fore finger and thumb, ready for release. You use your sling to steer your woolly herd by nicking the lead sheep on its teeny little ear. Ouch! OK, boss, I’ll turn! If you can’t make that shot on a consistent basis, your herd will go its own darn way and your days will be long. Goliath didn’t stand a chance. Just a great story about a dinky little guy walloping a Goliath.

Michelangelo had a different conception. His 8.5 ton, 17 foot David, weight poised on his right leg, body tensed for combat, offers us a platonic image of the ideal human being, in this case a man. Balanced. Poised. Ready. Beautiful. Who among us would not wish those proportions, those muscles, those fingers and toes, that brow? And look at his eyes, his gaze. Were I Goliath and this David stood in against me, I’d have thrown down my sword and saved my head.

Humans have made beautiful things in varied places and times. The Taj Mahal.  The Mona Lisa. The Lincoln Monument. The pyramids at Giza. The Amalfi coast. The Golden Gate Bridge. Starry Night. You all have a preference or two. For me, just one. It rests in my eye and in my soul.

The David of Michelangelo.