“Okay,” I say. “Explain it to me.”

Merritt begins to present. He’s got his little JPS Bible in one hand and gestures with the other like a preacher. “The whole story’s about power and deceit,” he says. His casual manner of speaking masks a keen intelligence. I’ve learned not to underestimate him. He told me he aspires to be a community organizer when he gets out; I imagine he could run the show.

“I mean, there’s even a hit list!” he adds, referring to the dark instructions imparted from father to son in one of the passages.

“Yup,” I reply. “That’s all there.”

“It just doesn’t seem all that holy,” a student says. His age is indistinct—I guess he’s probably somewhere in his 30s—and with his bald head, little mustache, and kind of over-worked-world-on-his-shoulders everyman look I sometimes think he could be cast as the long-suffering dad on some family-orientated sitcom.

“Who says it should be?” chimes in Terrance Young from his seat by a table at the perimeter of the room. Everyone calls him T.J. I can always count on him for a healthy dose of skepticism or for a bit of arcana.

“That’s a good point,” I reply, casting Young a knowing look. “We’ll have to explore that question.”

I’m thrilled by these comments. Merritt couldn’t have known it when he mentioned the Mafia, but when I read these chapters I always think of The Godfather. He and the others had truly understood the opening chapters of 1 Kings, the last days of the reign of King David.

The Bible details an attempted palace coup. Israel’s great monarch has grown old and frail; he lies shivering in his bed. One of his sons, Adonijah son of Haggith, observing his father’s decline, decides to seize the throne. He recruits his father’s military commander, Joab, and Abiathar the priest to his cause, and arranges a massive sacrificial feast to declare himself king, inviting his new supporters, his brothers, and the men of Judah. He does not summon his half-brother Solomon.

The prophet Nathan is quick to see the imminent danger, and plans accordingly, recruiting Bathsheba to inform the king about the conspiracy. The king’s wife tells him of Adonijah’s actions, predicting that when he dies, her life and the life of her son will be in jeopardy. Alarmed by the report, the old king rouses himself from his bed and springs into action, arranging for a ceremony to proclaim Solomon king over Israel and Judah. When the news of Solomon’s sudden coronation reaches Adonijah’s feast, his guests melt away in terror and the would-be usurper flees to the Tent of Meeting, grabbing the horns of the altar for protection. Informed of Adonijah’s actions, Solomon magnanimously (so it seems at the moment) offers refuge to his brother. And when he appears bowing before him, the King simply tells him to “Go home.”

It is a lean and magnificent bit of storytelling, and the class is as attuned to the subtlety of the composition—but even more taken by the sheer Machiavellian character of the events. Joab, the king’s old general, most likely didn’t need much convincing, Merritt says; wizened and cunning military man that Joab is, he likely deliberated upon which way the current winds were blowing, and threw his considerable weight behind Adonijah’s attempted coup. Perhaps, too, the general still resented David’s behavior after the death of Absalom, those long simmering tensions with his boss finally finding a suitable outlet in the prospect of a new regime. But doubtless Adonijah’s brothers needed a bit more persuading to come over to his side. After all, might they not have their own designs on the crown? How did Adonijah manage to rally their support?