Archives for June 2022

Part 1: Introduction | Part 2: We’ll See Who’s Boss | Part 3: Selfish Aims | Part 4: The King Gets What He Wants | Part 5: A Roll of the Dice | Part 6: The Tease | Part 7: Any Old Tablet | Part 8: Mental Explosion | Part 9: What Goes Around

With Haman out of the picture, we all know the rest of the story. There’s still the problem of the unalterable date for the extermination of the Jews. Xerxes promotes Mordecai to Haman’s place (Es 8.2) and assigns him to solve the problem (Es 8.8). Mordecai’s solution is both simple and just: authorize the Jews to use deadly force if necessary to defend themselves (Es 8.11). With that decree, the earlier one largely loses its force, since government sanction of murder kind of loses its appeal if you’re not protected from the consequences.

There are apparently a good number who don’t use discretion on the matter, and they face the consequences of their actions. And the long-range consequence is that today the Jews have a holiday, Purim (“lots”), so-called for the casting of lots by which Haman determined on what day the genocide of the Jews would occur.

This is the story in broad strokes. But there’s something missing.

We’ve seen an awful lot of coincidences in this story.

• Mordecai hears of the assassination plot.
• One night the king can’t sleep.
• His servant picks a random clay tablet from the archives.
• Haman is standing outside as the tablet is read.
• Haman assumes the king’s question is about him.
• Haman doesn’t know Esther’s ethnicity.
• The king completely misconstrues Haman’s actions toward Esther.

Are these all just coincidences? Are the Jews the luckiest people ever?

That’s just not reasonable.

It really seems as though someone is directing the progress of this plot. There’s intelligence behind it.

Whose intelligence? Esther’s? Mordecai’s?

That’s ridiculous. Esther couldn’t have predicted that she would be queen, and neither of them could have directed the servant to choose that particular tablet from the archives, or could have misdirected the king to interpret Haman’s motives completely inaccurately.

No, this intelligence is bigger than either of them, or both of them put together.

This is a divine providence.

But—and I don’t know if you’ve noticed this—there’s no God in this book. That is, he’s never mentioned.

Mordecai gets close when he tells Esther that she may have come to the kingdom for such a time as this (Es 4.14), but that’s an implication, not a specification.

God’s not mentioned. Anywhere.

But if you don’t see him in this story, you’re not paying attention.

And that means that this story has significance even for people who don’t celebrate Purim.

We all face difficulties of various kinds, even threats. And when we do, we want a visible—and powerful, and loud—Deliverer. We want intervention. We want action. We want a beatdown.

But God doesn’t need to do all that. He can deliver us in any way he chooses, and these days those ways don’t include voices from heaven or angelic armies. Sometimes he just keeps somebody awake. Sometimes he just lets somebody overhear something. Sometimes somebody just picks out exactly the right random thing.

Even when God is silent, he is there, and he is at work, including caring for his people.

He’s the real King.

Photo credit: Xerxes’ tomb; dynamosquito from France, CC BY-SA 2.0 https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/2.0, via Wikimedia Commons

Part 1: Introduction | Part 2: We’ll See Who’s Boss | Part 3: Selfish Aims | Part 4: The King Gets What He Wants | Part 5: A Roll of the Dice | Part 6: The Tease | Part 7: Any Old Tablet | Part 8: Mental Explosion 

Haman’s confidence at last night’s banquet has disappeared. Now he knows that one of the Jews he has convinced the king to execute—Mordecai—is an honored court official, and that as his wife has so helpfully pointed out, at some point in the next eleven months before the determined day of genocide, he’s going to be in a very difficult situation.

But for tonight, at least, he’s a guest of the king and queen, and there will be feasting. Might as well eat, drink, and be merry, even if at some point we die. Everybody dies eventually, right?

I’m speculating here. The writer has ended chapter 6 with a sense of foreboding; in the movie version there would be ominous music over that last sentence of the chapter. Whether Haman shares that sense of foreboding isn’t stated.

At this feast, as at the previous one, the king demonstrates that he knows this whole thing isn’t about eating or social interaction. He asks his queen again, “What is it that you want? I am willing, eager to give you whatever you might ask” (Es 7.2).

When he had asked her that question the previous night, she had simply put him off for a day, most likely to build anticipation and thus to heighten the shock of what she was going to reveal.

Now it’s time.

She asks the king to deliver her and her people from extinction (Es 7.3-4).

I note that even at this point, she does not mention the word “Jews.” It’s likely that Haman still doesn’t know her ethnicity; he may still have no idea how much trouble he’s in at this moment.

Xerxes is puzzled. Who in his right mind would seek to exterminate the Queen—and all her people? What madness is this? Don’t these morons know who they’re dealing with?

So he asks (Es 7.5). Whoever the criminals are, they will be neutralized.

And now, in one brief sentence (Es 7.6) it all comes crashing down.

It’s Haman.

This has to be the fastest transition from Clueless to Uh-Oh in the history of ever.

The king, realizing that he has been betrayed by his highest-ranking official, and likely not knowing that Haman had no idea he was endangering the Queen, storms in a rage out into the garden, likely in an effort to compose himself. Haman, now able to smell the aroma of cooked goose, moves to the Queen to beg for his life.

We know that it was customary in biblical times to eat at a low table or off a mat on the floor. The diners would recline on one side, propped up on an elbow. This was the procedure at the Last Supper, for example, when John the apostle reclined on Jesus’ breast (Jn 13.23). With that in mind, I suspect that Haman jumped to his feet, walked over to where the Queen was reclining (KJV calls it a “bed”; most modern versions call it a “couch”), and then threw himself down into a position of supplication. Angry because a Jew would not bow to him, he now ironically bows willingly at the feet of another Jew.

The king, presumably having composed himself, returns to the room to find Haman and the Queen both reclined in proximity to one another, and Haman clearly highly agitated and active, and he assumes that he’s witnessing a sexual assault (Es 7.8).

Yikes.

The king is now completely wrong twice over about Haman’s intentions. Haman had no intention of endangering the Queen in his attack on Mordecai, and of course he has no intention of assaulting the Queen with anything more than appeals for his life.

But the very act of pleading for his life has now ensured that it is forfeit.

What rotten luck.

A court official helpfully informs the king that there’s an instrument of execution ready—in Haman’s back yard, in fact. Apparently Haman had colleagues at court who were not his friends.

Off—and up—he goes.

Justice.

But we recall that even with Haman dead, the genocide proclamation is still in force and unalterable. We have a loose end to tie up.

Next time.

Part 10: The Missing Piece

Photo credit: Xerxes’ tomb; dynamosquito from France, CC BY-SA 2.0 https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/2.0, via Wikimedia Commons

Part 1: Introduction | Part 2: We’ll See Who’s Boss | Part 3: Selfish Aims | Part 4: The King Gets What He Wants | Part 5: A Roll of the Dice | Part 6: The Tease | Part 7: Any Old Tablet

So the sleepy servant begins to read the cuneiform to the unsleepy king. And as he reads, the king gets un- and unsleepier. : – )

He’s hearing the story of how two of his court officials had been plotting to assassinate him, and someone named Mordecai had saved his life by reporting them.

As I’ve noted before, plots against Xerxes’ life were apparently common enough that now the king doesn’t even remember this specific event, even though he had ordered the execution of the conspirators (Es 2.23). In any case, he (probably) sits up in bed and asks what has been done to reward Mordecai for saving his life. The servants attending the king tell him that no reward has been given (Es 6.3).

Well. That’s just not right. He saved my life; we ought to do something for him. Since it was my life—the most important life in the kingdom, obviously—that he saved, we ought to do something really cool.

I need some creative ideas. Who’s got some ideas? Is there anybody in the courtyard?

Well, your Persianness, it’s the middle of the night; but surprisingly, there’s actually somebody out there—Haman, your highest court official (Es 3.1, 6.4).

Excellent! He’s a smart one; he’ll have some ideas. Get him in here.

Now, we can see the comedy coming. The king wants to reward Mordecai in some creative, spectacular way. Haman’s intention is to ask the king to authorize an early execution of, um, that very same Mordecai. The plot is getting downright Shakespearean. Or O. Henryian.

Haman is likely surprised at being ushered into Xerxes’ bedchamber in the middle of the night. This must be a pressing matter of State.

The king asks him a terse question: “What should be done for a man the king wants to honor?”

Now, we already know that Haman is a self-centered person. So we’re not surprised that his revealed motive isn’t “How can I be of service to the king?” but “Ooh! This is about me, isn’t it?!” (Es 6.6).

So Haman assumes that he’s the person the king wants to honor. And since we know that, we have a chance to see deep into his heart.

He offers his counsel—treat the man as if he were the king himself. Adorn the man in the royal robes, and place him on the royal steed, and parade him around the city, proclaiming his greatness.

What does this tell us?

Haman wants to be king.

He’s the very last person the king should want to be advising him. He’s a danger to the king and to the state. He’s no better than those two court officials whom the king had executed.

But the king can’t read Haman’s real motives, and he’s thinking of Mordecai anyway. So the suggestion sounds great to him. He tells Haman to make it so (Es 6.10).

We love imagining the explosion that must have occurred in Haman’s brain when he heard the king’s key words: “Mordecai the Jew.” I wonder what his face looked like.

At this point Haman does the one wise thing recorded of him in the whole Bible. He decides that this probably isn’t a good time to ask for the king’s permission to execute Mordecai.

Smart move.

He has an order from the king, and he obeys it.

Another smart move.

But again, I wonder what his face looked like.

And when Haman’s humiliating obedience is fulfilled, Mordecai returns to his normal life; boy, that was fun, but no big deal. And Haman, unsurprisingly, is humiliated, angry, unbelieving of all that has happened. Of all the rotten luck.

And now he has a second conversation with his household (Es 6.12-13), and the contrast with the earlier one (Es 5.10-14) is dramatic. His wife tells him, “Boy, you’ve done it now. If Mordecai’s a Jew, and the king’s proclamation—at your behest—can’t be altered, then, well, your goose is pretty much cooked.”

And here comes the king’s servant to escort him to dinner.

Stay tuned, my friends. This is going to be fun to watch.

Part 9: What Goes Around | Part 10: The Missing Piece

Photo credit: Xerxes’ tomb; dynamosquito from France, CC BY-SA 2.0 https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/2.0, via Wikimedia Commons

Part 1: Introduction | Part 2: We’ll See Who’s Boss | Part 3: Selfish Aims | Part 4: The King Gets What He Wants | Part 5: A Roll of the Dice | Part 6: The Tease

With Queen Esther’s plan in place, and in progress, the storyteller turns his focus to Haman. We already know that he’s proud and arrogant but not confident in his authority; he’s enraged by Mordecai’s simple refusal to bow to him—as if that matters—and his response far outmeasures the offense: he’s going to kill Mordecai, and he’s going to eradicate his entire people group.

The plan for the genocide is already in place, signed by the king and unalterable. Haman now turns to the specific task of getting rid of Mordecai without having to wait 11 months for the genocide date.

His approach has been affected, in ways he doesn’t realize, by Queen Esther, who has already outsmarted him. She knows of his arrogance and has played to it perfectly by inviting only him to join her and the king at a private but lavish feast—for two nights in a row.

His guard is completely down. After the first night, he goes home to his family and brags about the recognition (Es 5.11-12). But on the way home, the mere sight of Mordecai sitting in the gate increases his rage (Es 5.9). A slight has outweighed all the pleasures and privileges he holds in the kingdom.

He’s a petty, petty man.

And Esther knows it.

Haman’s wife and friends suggest that he rid himself of the problem of Mordecai with dispatch. He should build a gallows on which to hang the Jew.

When we hear “gallows,” we think of the hangman’s apparatus. But that’s not this at all.

This is a pointed stake, 75 feet tall (Es 5.14). You erect it, and then you lower the hapless victim onto the pointed top. It pierces his body, first from gravity and then from the writhing. When it gets to his heart—or maybe, mercifully, sooner—he dies.

I’m told that it’s an unpleasant way to go.

Haman likes the idea. He has his servants—he has plenty of servants—put the heinous contraption together.

He’s going to need the king’s permission to execute Mordecai before the appointed time. By now it’s nighttime, and the king isn’t available. But Mordecai clearly wants to get this thing done ASAP, so he takes the most efficient route open to him: he goes to the gate of the king’s court—probably the very place where he had seen Mordecai sitting earlier in the day—and he waits, like an iPhone fan waiting for the next model, or a Marvel fan waiting for the first showing. He’ll wait all night, he thinks, and be the first one in line in the morning. We’ll get this done.

He settles in.

And the whole story—all of it—hinges on what happens next (Es 6.1).

Xerxes can’t sleep.

That’s the hinge? A little thing like that?

Yep.

He can’t sleep.

So he calls a servant and tells him to go get a copy of the Congressional Record to read to him.

That’ll put him to sleep. Works every time.

And the servant, rubbing the sleep from his eyes and likely cursing the king under his breath, stumbles into the archive warehouse, weaves his way down a long aisle, and perhaps without even looking, pulls a nondescript clay tablet from a shelf. Doesn’t care what it is, because what it is doesn’t matter. Just need to get the stupid king back to sleep.

Back in the king’s bedchamber, the servant begins to read. This tablet, this randomly and blindly chosen tablet, is one we’ve seen before. It’s the scribal record of the two would-be assassins, who were executed after Mordecai reported them to the court.

What are the odds?

The hinge begins to move.

To be continued.

Part 8: Mental Explosion | Part 9: What Goes Around | Part 10: The Missing Piece

Photo credit: Xerxes’ tomb; dynamosquito from France, CC BY-SA 2.0 https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/2.0, via Wikimedia Commons

Part 1: Introduction | Part 2: We’ll See Who’s Boss | Part 3: Selfish Aims | Part 4: The King Gets What He Wants | Part 5: A Roll of the Dice

The previous post ends with all the population of Susa perplexed. What is the king thinking, ordering all Jews to be executed?! This is madness!

Of course, the Jews themselves respond even more energetically. Mordecai stands in sackcloth in front of the king’s gate, crying out at the top of his voice (Es 4.1-2). And the cry extends all across the empire, wherever there are Jews to mourn (Es 4.3).

We’re surprised that Esther doesn’t know about the decree, but we probably shouldn’t be. In that culture—in fact, in pretty much all cultures of that day—this is men’s business. No need to worry her pretty little head about it. The queen is told that her cousin is mourning, and she sends to find out why (Es 4.5).

Mordecai has a copy of the decree—it had been widely circulated (Es 3.14)—which he sends to Esther (Es 4.8). She knows there’s a response that might be effective, even in the instance of an unamendable law: she can try to intervene with the king.

She knows in how high esteem Xerxes holds her. She knows her power.

But there’s a risk.

You can see the king—if he calls for you. You can’t just mosey on in and ask for stuff. Not even if you’re the queen.

The king’s a really big deal, you see.

Mordecai too knows that this is risky. But he too knows the power she wields over the king. It’s worth the risk. Mordecai tells her, “This is why you’re in the position you’re in. This is why you’re the queen” (Es 4.13-14).

Now, those are interesting words. Mordecai thinks that history isn’t random. He thinks there’s a purpose to it. Since he’s a Jew, we know quite a bit about his worldview—but he doesn’t go into all that. He simply says that there’s a reason.

And that implies that Xerxes may not be as big as he thinks he is.

And there’s yet another implication in Esther’s reply. She calls for all the Jews in Susa to fast for three days (Es 4.16). Interestingly, she doesn’t call on them to pray; but again, we know Jewish culture, and we know that fasting and praying go together (1S 7.5-6; 2Ch 20.3; Ne 1.4; Ps 35.13; Da 9.3; Joel 1.14). What does Esther expect nationwide fasting to accomplish?

Like Mordecai, she doesn’t think history is random either.

After the three days of fasting, Esther works her plan. She puts on her royal apparel (Es 5.1)—this will show respect for the king’s presence, but it will also certainly impress on him all the strengths he knows she has—the reasons he chose her as queen in the first place.

She knows he will not dismiss her.

And he doesn’t.

He welcomes her into the throne room, and he asks her request. He knows she must want something; you don’t drop by the throne just to ask how the king’s day is going.

Esther doesn’t pour her troubles all over him. She’s going to give him the story just a bit at a time.

She’s clever, and she’s worked the tactics all out ahead of time.

She says nothing about the Jews, or the decree, or Haman’s manipulation of the mighty king.

She just invites the king to dinner.

Oh, and Haman too (Es 5.4).

The king’s delighted. A beautiful woman, and food too! What could be better?

And when he is well fed, he turns to the queen and asks again what she wants. He may just want to bestow gifts on her as signs of his approval and affection, or he may know that she wouldn’t have come to the throne just to invite him to dinner. He has the good sense to ask again what she would like him to do for her.

And Esther surprises us again.

Again, she doesn’t get down to business about the decree.

She invites the king and Haman to another dinner. Tomorrow (Es 5.8).

Like Sheherazade, she knows the power of anticipation.

Till “tomorrow.”

Part 7: Any Old Tablet | Part 8: Mental Explosion | Part 9: What Goes Around | Part 10: The Missing Piece

Photo credit: Xerxes’ tomb; dynamosquito from France, CC BY-SA 2.0 https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/2.0, via Wikimedia Commons

Part 1: Introduction | Part 2: We’ll See Who’s Boss | Part 3: Selfish Aims | Part 4: The King Gets What He Wants  

After Esther becomes queen, about four years pass before we meet the antagonist of the story, the wicked court official Haman. He is an Agagite (Es 3.1), which may mean that he’s a descendant of Agag the Amalekite, whom King Saul had refused to kill when the Lord told him to (1Sam 15.8, 32-33). Israel and Amalek had a long history of enmity, going back a thousand years from Esther’s time; Balaam’s blessing of Israel included the promise that Israel’s king “would be higher than Agag” (Nu 24.7). It would certainly make sense that Haman would have a deep-seated hatred for the Jews, if this is what “Agagite” means. But that is by no means certain. 

At any rate, Mordecai refuses to bow to Haman (Es 3.2). 

That’s interesting, because the question of bowing to earthly rulers isn’t clearly answered in Scripture. On the one hand, the Law forbade bowing to false gods or idols (Ex 20.5; 23.24; Le 26.1; De 5.9), and we have the example of Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego refusing to bow to the image of the king (Da 3.12). But God’s people frequently bowed to human rulers, and even to Gentiles. When Abraham was purchasing a burial place for Sarah, he bowed to the Hittites from whom he was purchasing it (Ge 23.7). A woman from Tekoah bowed to King David (2S 14.4), as did a messenger when David was waiting news from the battlefield (2S 18.28). David’s wife Bathsheba bowed to him as well (1K 1.16). 

So exactly why Mordecai refused to bow to Haman is not clear. Maybe it was a religious thing; maybe he just didn’t like the guy. But this single tiny incident sets in motion the motivation for Haman to isolate and execute the Jews—a motivation that will drive the rest of the story. 

Haman is furious (Es 3.5). Modern readers will realize that this kind of response likely indicates weakness and insecurity rather than actual power; a confident leader doesn’t worry about such minor slights, because he has more important things to give his attention to. Haman’s weakness is further demonstrated by his response—we’ll kill Mordecai, and we’ll kill his entire people as well (Es 3.6). Of course, if he carries out his desire, God’s promise to Abraham—of a people, and of a Seed (Ge 15.4-5)—will go unkept. 

On April 7, 474 BC, Haman’s staff casts the lot to determine the day on which the Jews will be exterminated (Es 3.7). The Persians often cast lots, as far as a year in advance, to determine auspicious days to do this or that. The day that comes up this time is March 7, 473 BC—11 months away. The lag time gives the Jews warning and time to prepare. Speaking of “auspicious.” 

Haman figures that if he kills the Jews, he can plunder their stuff. So he bribes Xerxes to grant his horrific request (Es 3.9). He’ll pay the 10,000 talents from the plunder. 

Now, 10,000 talents is a pile of money. Xerxes’ predecessor, Darius I, received about 15,000 talents in revenue for a whole year. This tells us that Haman saw the Jews as a wealthy target; they had apparently done very well in Babylon. 

Xerxes acquiesces to Haman’s absurd request (Es 3.11). And so the decree goes out across the entire empire, in all the requisite languages. The announcement day is the 13^th day of the first month (Es 3.12)—the day before Passover (Le 23.5). Happy holidays. 

The despot takes the whole thing lightly. He signs the decree and then calls for a drink with Haman (Es 3.15). Good ol’ boys having a good time. 

“But the city Shushan was perplexed” (Es 3.15). The king’s own people are bewildered by what he has done. The crowds in the city mill about in the streets, shaking their heads, asking one another what this can possibly mean. “What on earth is he thinking?!” 

But he’s the sovereign. He can do what he wants. 

There’s nobody bigger. Right?

Part 6: The Tease | Part 7: Any Old Tablet | Part 8: Mental Explosion | Part 9: What Goes Around | Part 10: The Missing Piece

Photo credit: Xerxes’ tomb; dynamosquito from France, CC BY-SA 2.0 https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/2.0, via Wikimedia Commons

Part 1: Introduction | Part 2: We’ll See Who’s Boss | Part 3: Selfish Aims

The beautiful girl Esther is now effectively a member of Xerxes’ harem, but a lot has to happen before he even meets her. The court official responsible for the harem—or at least for the “contest” to determine who replaces Vashti, the banished queen—who is named Hegai, oversees a preparation process for the women that takes a full year (Es 2.12). We’re told that it involves fragrances, but undoubtedly many other things were included; it was likely a “finishing school” to refine the women’s skills in beautification, in court decorum and culture, in sexuality, and in whatever else would please the king.

After the year of preparation, each of the women would spend a night with the king. This was clearly a sexual tryout, as well as an opportunity for Xerxes to engage the woman in conversation that would tell him something about her personal qualifications to serve in the official role of queen, which pertained only to the one woman so chosen from the harem. After that night, the woman would be a concubine (Es 2.14), available for the king’s pleasure at any time.

This was the way kings operated in the ancient Near East. They had exclusive rights to any woman they desired—and the glory of their kingdom was demonstrated, among other ways, by the size of the harem. It’s likely that a significant number of concubines never returned to the king’s presence after the initial sexual tryout; as we noted in the previous post, this meant “perpetual widowhood.” But they were fed, clothed, and sheltered, and their material circumstances were doubtless better than those of the common people, given that, theoretically at least, the king could request the presence of any of them at any time.

He’s the king. He gets what he wants.

When Esther’s time came, she delighted the king (Es 2.16-17). We’re not told what it was about her that took her to the top of the list, though the text does say that she “obtained favor in the sight of all them that looked upon her” (Es 2.15)—so physical attractiveness was certainly a significant factor. Given that Xerxes had observed his father’s rule as a younger man, and that he had been king for several years, he certainly knew what other qualifications were necessary in a titular queen and evaluated Esther for those as well. She likely would communicate with poise, confidence, and authority in court, as well as making a personal connection with the king. She was no jewel in a pig’s snout (Pr 11.22). She must have been quite a woman to evidence all that in a single evening.

The king is so delighted with what he has found that he proclaims an empire-wide celebration for the accession of the new queen. There’s a party in Susa, of course, but there’s also “a release to the provinces” (Es 2.18), which may have consisted of “either a remission of taxes [as reflected in the ESV and CSB] or a remission of labor (a holiday) [as reflected in the NASB, NIV, and NET].” Or perhaps a release from military duty. But all across the empire, people are celebrating.

The chapter closes with what sounds like an off-handed bit of court trivia. Esther’s cousin, Mordecai, is seated at the gate of the court (Es 2.21). As we’ve already noted, government officials often sat there, in order to be available for any command or need of the king. Maybe he’s the same “Marduka” named in a Persian text; maybe not. But from his strategic post he learns something: two high-ranking court officials are angry with the king and are planning to attack him physically. Whether Mordecai heard them talking—which is unlikely, if he’s a court official himself—or simply heard it through the grapevine, he reports it to his cousin, who is now the queen. She tells the king, and the conspirators are summarily neutralized (Es 2.23). And somewhere, deep inside the cogs of the bureaucracy, a scribal functionary presses a stylus into a clay tablet to record the event.

It will become apparent later that Xerxes doesn’t even remember this threat to his life. Apparently this sort of thing happened a lot. But somewhere, in a Persian warehouse archive, a nondescript clay tablet is filed on a shelf.

And the king, the supreme, the sovereign, lives on.

Part 5: A Roll of the Dice | Part 6: The Tease | Part 7: Any Old Tablet | Part 8: Mental Explosion | Part 9: What Goes Around | Part 10: The Missing Piece

Photo credit: Xerxes’ tomb; dynamosquito from France, CC BY-SA 2.0 https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/2.0, via Wikimedia Commons