Studying the Book of Esther

Esther 6:13 doesn't stand out as especially significant to modern readers like us, but it is, I think, or would have been, one of the key verses to the whole entire story, if you were one of the Jews in exile that this book was originally written for. Like a snowball at the top of a snow-laden peak, Haman has started to tumble, and his wisest friends tell him: “If this Mordecai before whom your downfall has started, is of Jewish descent (literally, of the “seed of the Jews”), you will not be able to stand against him—you will surely come to ruin.” I call this the key to the whole entire book, because this reference to the “seed of the Jews” ties Esther’s story right back to the story of Abraham, and the founding promise that God made to his people back in Genesis. In Genesis 12, God tells Abraham, the Father of the Jewish people, “I will make you into a great nation ... you will be a blessing ... and I will bless those who bless you and curse those who curse you ... and all the peo...

Haman at last meets his ironic doom, and the story takes great pains to show how completely his fortunes have reversed: Haman was prompted to annihilate the Jews because Mordecai refused to bow in reverence to him; in 7:7-8 he’s grovelling at the feet of Queen Esther, begging for his life. Haman built a 75-foot impaling pole for Mordecai; in 7:9 this plot to murder someone “who spoke up to help the King” becomes the decisive evidence, sealing his own fate. So far, so good. But there are some strange things going on in chapter 7 that I never noticed before. For instance, in 7:9, it’s a eunuch named Harbona who presents the evidence against Haman. This is interesting, because back in 1:10, Harbona was one of the eunuchs involved in the Queen Vashti scandal that led to Esther becoming Queen. Similarly, it says that after Haman was impaled, “then the king’s fury subsided.” This also harkens us back to the Vashti affair, because right after they’ve removed Vashti from the throne, it says al...

In 8:6, Esther asks a rhetorical question that sort of stopped me in my tracks. She’s beseeching the Emperor to reverse his edict to destroy the Jews, and she says, “How can I bear to see disaster fall on my people? How can I bear to see the destruction of my family?” It is, like I say, a rhetorical question, and the point is, she  can't  bear it. So heart-wrenching would that loss be, that she’s willing to risk everything--status and wealth, peace and comfort, life and death itself--in an effort to save them. And I say it stopped me in my tracks, because as I read it, it was sort of like God was asking me, “Do you share Esther’s heart for the harried and threatened People of God? ” There are some theological dots we need to connect here, before this question comes into focus, but once you do connect them, it should give us all pause, I think. This story is about the attempted annihilation of the Jewish People, of course (and lest we forget, the history books can confirm that ...