Catholic Commentary
The Genealogy of Saul Through the House of Gibeon (Part 2)
43Moza became the father of Binea, Rephaiah his son, Eleasah his son, and Azel his son.44Azel had six sons, whose names are Azrikam, Bocheru, Ishmael, Sheariah, Obadiah, and Hanan. These were the sons of Azel.
1 Chronicles 9:43–44 presents a genealogical sequence from Moza through Azel and lists Azel's six sons—Azrikam, Bocheru, Ishmael, Sheariah, Obadiah, and Hanan—as part of Saul's extended family line. The repeated genealogy reinforces post-exilic Israel's identity and affirms that descendants of Saul's house remain documented and preserved within the community's historical record.
God writes down the names of the forgotten—a lineage of nobodies matters eternally because God has reserved them for remembrance.
1 Chronicles 9:43 — The Line from Moza to Azel
Verse 43 presents a clean, fourfold sequence: Moza → Binea → Rephaiah → Eleasah → Azel. This same line appears almost identically in 1 Chronicles 8:37–38, the earlier presentation of Saul's extended family. The repetition is intentional. The Chronicler (writing likely in the post-exilic period, c. 400–350 BC) is recapitulating and reinforcing the genealogical record as the community of returned exiles struggles to reconstitute its identity. To see your name — or your ancestor's name — inscribed in such a list was to be told: you belong; you have a place in Israel's story; you have not been forgotten.
The name Moza (מוֹצָא, "going forth" or "source") is suggestive in itself: it names an origin point, a place from which something proceeds. Binea is otherwise unknown outside these genealogical chapters, illustrating the Chronicler's access to archival sources now lost to us. Rephaiah (רְפַיָה, "the LORD has healed") carries a name of consolation — particularly poignant for a post-exilic audience who had experienced national devastation and was now seeking healing and restoration. Eleasah (אֶלְעָשָׂה, "God has made") likewise carries a confessional weight: the very existence of this lineage is credited to divine agency. Azel (אָצֵל, possibly "noble" or "he has reserved") serves as the climactic figure of this verse, the pivot upon which verse 44 turns.
1 Chronicles 9:44 — The Six Sons of Azel
Azel's six sons — Azrikam, Bocheru, Ishmael, Sheariah, Obadiah, and Hanan — are listed with the closing refrain: "These were the sons of Azel." This is verbatim from 1 Chronicles 8:38. The names themselves carry theological resonances. Azrikam (עַזְרִיקָם, "my help has arisen") echoes the Psalmic language of God as helper and refuge. Ishmael (יִשְׁמָעֵאל, "God hears") recalls the patriarch Ishmael, son of Abraham, whose name was given because God heard Hagar's affliction — a name that affirms divine attentiveness to the marginalized. Obadiah (עֹבַדְיָה, "servant of the LORD") is one of the most theologically rich names in the Hebrew Bible, signifying total dedication to God's service — the very definition of Israelite vocation. Hanan (חָנָן, "gracious" or "he has shown grace") closes the list on a note of divine favor.
The number six — just short of the symbolic seven — has invited some typological reflection among commentators. Rather than a complete or "perfect" number, six speaks of work, striving, and human effort (as in the six days of creation). The sons of Azel are a community in process, not yet arrived at the eschatological fullness. Yet they persist. They are named. They are remembered.
The Typological and Spiritual Senses
In the Catholic fourfold interpretation of Scripture, the literal sense here is a record of Saul's descendants. But the allegorical sense points forward: just as Israel's memory is preserved through faithful record-keeping even after the failure of Saul's kingship, so the Church preserves the memory of every baptized soul. The anagogical sense gestures toward the Book of Life (Rev 3:5; 20:12), in which names are written not by genealogical accident but by divine grace. The moral sense calls the reader to the fidelity that makes one worth remembering — a life of Obadiah ("service to the LORD") and Hanan ("grace").
Catholic tradition, drawing on the Fathers, insists that even the most apparently arid passages of Scripture bear spiritual fruit for those who read with faith. St. Jerome, who labored over precisely these kinds of genealogical lists in his Vulgate translation and commentary, wrote: "Do not despise these genealogies of the saints; in them lie hidden many mysteries" (Epistola ad Paulinum). The Chronicler's double recitation of Saul's genealogy (chapters 8 and 9) is not editorial carelessness but a deliberate act of theological affirmation — a statement that Israel's past is not erased by exile, failure, or dynastic collapse.
The Catechism of the Catholic Church teaches that Sacred Scripture must be read "within the living Tradition of the whole Church" (CCC §113). Within that Tradition, genealogies have been understood since the Fathers as carriers of salvation history. St. Augustine in The City of God (Book XV–XVI) reflects at length on biblical genealogies as the thread by which God weaves human history toward its divine goal. The specific names in Azel's line — particularly Obadiah ("servant of the LORD") — resonate with the Church's theology of vocation: every Christian is called to be a servant of the LORD, incorporated through Baptism into a lineage of grace that surpasses even biological descent.
Furthermore, the post-exilic context of Chronicles speaks directly to the Catholic understanding of the Church as the restored and re-gathered People of God. Just as the Chronicler insists on naming every family returning from Babylon, so the Church insists on the dignity and irreplaceable identity of every person. The Second Vatican Council's Gaudium et Spes (§12) affirms that every human person is known and loved by God individually — a theological conviction that genealogical literature, at its deepest level, embodies.
It is tempting to skim genealogical passages as padding between the "real" content of Scripture — but for a contemporary Catholic, these verses offer a quietly radical message. In a culture that measures significance by influence, metrics, and visibility, the Chronicler insists on writing down the names of people no one has heard of. Binea. Rephaiah. Eleasah. They did nothing recorded beyond existing, begetting, and being begotten. And yet their names are in the Word of God.
For Catholics who feel anonymous — who serve in quiet roles, raise children without recognition, pray without visible fruit, or carry family histories marked by failure (as Saul's lineage surely was) — these verses are a word of consolation. God keeps records that the world does not. The practice of praying for one's ancestors, keeping family histories, lighting candles for the dead, and commemorating the saints on All Souls' Day all flow from this same instinct: names matter to God.
A practical application: consider writing down the names of your own ancestors in prayer. Bring them before God. The Chronicler's act of sacred remembrance can become your own.
Commentary