Ruth and Esther — Unit 6

Opening and Recap

Good morning, everybody, here and in cyberspace — thanks for joining us, and sorry about the delay. We did the introduction to Esther a few weeks ago, and now we dive into the first two chapters. To recap: we don't know who the author is, but we suspect he was at least a Jewish sympathizer, well acquainted with Susa, the Persian Empire, and its customs. We see in Esther the same themes we saw in Ruth — redemption, restoration, and, most importantly, God's providence — even though God is never mentioned and prayer is never mentioned; His providence is all over this story.

Someone raised the point that women didn't have much say — and that's truly fascinating, because the history and culture of the times, especially under the Persian Empire, is more complicated than you'd expect, and we'll get into it.

Observations — Chapter One

“This is what happened during the time of Xerxes.” Some translations use “Ahasuerus,” which is most likely a title, not his name — it means “high father” or “venerable king” — while Xerxes is his name. (The New King James even renders it, “This was the Ahasuerus who reigned over 127 provinces,” which makes the title sense clear.) Those 127 provinces matter: an empire that large, having acquired Babylon and annexed so many peoples, contained many languages — and that plays an important role in these chapters.

The story begins with Xerxes planning his invasion of Greece, marked by a banquet at the citadel (the king's palace, set on a hill above and apart from the city of Susa). We know about the invasion plans from the historian Herodotus, who wrote around 472 BC; his book, The Histories, chronicles the Greco-Persian conflict. Xerxes assembles his princes, satraps, and wise men, and they plan for 180 days, raising money. The fact that he then holds a second banquet — open to everyone in the capital — suggests the planning and fundraising had gone well. He launches the invasion in retaliation for the Greeks' defeat of his father Darius at the Battle of Marathon. Imagine a commoner drinking from a golden goblet — it blows my mind. (We also know from extra-biblical sources that this citadel later burned; Xerxes had begun a second palace at Persepolis, which his son Artaxerxes would later occupy.) White and violet were the royal colors of Persia. There were seven days of feasting; typically everyone had to drink whenever the king drank, but Xerxes waived that and let people drink as they wished.

Meanwhile, Vashti holds her own banquet for the women — not uncommon. Today, women in that region are often heavily oppressed, and some of that traces to this era — but in ancient Persia women actually had considerable freedom: they could own businesses, serve in the military, be independent, choose not to marry, and even hold the same jobs as men, and this was true for both royal and common women. The striking exception, especially for royalty: a royal wife could not be seen by anyone but her husband. She could listen in on every planning meeting and strategy session with the king's councilmen — but only through a narrow window slit. Ted and I saw evidence of this in India: the “Wind Palace” (Hawa Mahal), built with rows of small slit windows so the royal women and their ladies-in-waiting could watch parades and the military pass without being seen; we saw the same arrangement in the palaces at Udaipur and Jaipur, where the king's court was surrounded by those slits. A strange dichotomy — that much liberty alongside that much seclusion.

On the final day of the feast, with the men quite inebriated, the king summons Vashti to display her royal beauty before everyone — and now he is the one defying custom. Some rabbinic sources say he asked her to come wearing nothing but her crown; others say Gabriel had stricken her with leprosy, or that she was pregnant with Artaxerxes. Whether for one of those reasons or because she was caught between obeying the king and obeying the law, she had to choose — and she refused. (Incidentally, Vashti means “best beloved” or “desired one”; she isn't named in extra-biblical literature, and the name may even be Greek rather than Persian — we don't know.) Given the rights women did have, plus the men's drunken state, it's no wonder she refused.

The king becomes “angry,” which is an understatement — by today's Psychology Manuals you'd call Xerxes manic-depressive; extra-biblical sources note he was incredibly volatile and unpredictable. Two examples: when a bridge he had built over the Hellespont was destroyed in a storm, he ordered his men to give the sea 300 lashes and beheaded the bridge's builders. And a wealthy man named Pythius sent Xerxes a huge gift for his campaign — so large that Xerxes sent it back with thanks — but when Pythius later asked that one of his sons be spared from the military to help him in his old age, Xerxes had the son cut in two and made the army march between the pieces. Not a nice man — a mad king.

In verse 18, the word for the “contempt” the king's advisor fears is used only here in this book and translates literally as “despise” — disrespect and discord. That's Memucan, voicing what he thinks should happen. The king calls on his wise men — and how wise are they, really? They panic that this will spark a women's liberation movement and must be shut down, so they issue an edict that every man should be master of his own household and that each should speak the language of his own people. With so many languages in the empire, children naturally adopted the mother's language; the edict means no — the mother must learn and speak the husband's language to the children. Obnoxious — driven by sheer fear of losing control of their women. And how is the edict sent across that vast empire? By courier — a precursor to the Pony Express. A rider would ride for a day and pass it to the next rider, and so on to all the provinces. Nothing new under the sun.

Observations — Chapter Two

“After these things, when the anger of King Xerxes had subsided” — in the interval, Xerxes has suffered defeat in the Greek invasion and is throwing a pity party, inconsolable. His eunuchs, wondering what to do with this mad king, decide to find a new wife to replace Vashti (though he already has 300 concubines waiting — it's just not good enough). That idea pleased him, and so they send out to find women — and that's when Mordecai and Esther finally enter the story.

Interestingly, Mordecai is given his Babylonian name, which means “son of Marduk” (Marduk being a Babylonian god), but not a Jewish name; Esther is given both. Mordecai's lineage is significant: son of Jair, son of Shimei, son of Kish, a Benjamite — Kish was the father of King Saul. The author may be pointing back to an old feud: Saul was ordered by God to destroy the Amalekites and take nothing, but he spared King Agag and took spoil, against God's command, and Samuel was the one who finally cut Agag to pieces. Haman is an Agagite — so there's a standing feud between the line of Saul and the Amalekites, and now Mordecai, a descendant of Saul, enters the picture.

Mordecai and Esther were taken into Babylonian captivity with Jehoiachin, the king of Judah — which probably means they were of royal blood or quite wealthy. As for names: Esther's Babylonian name means “star,” and her Jewish name, Hadassah, means “myrtle” — a symbol of prosperity, success, and eternity of life, and ultimately a symbol of the Jewish nation. (The myrtle flower is star-shaped, which is likely how she came by “Esther.”) That she alone is given both names is a clear signal: this is a woman with two identities — two identities that will come into play in a big way.

She is taken into the palace, into the custody of Hegai, who was in charge of the women. We can assume Mordecai had no choice but to relinquish her under the decree. Honestly, at this point I don't much like Mordecai — he could have spoken up about being Jewish and saved his cousin from being taken in and violated, and he did nothing. Compare him to Joseph, who made no bones about who he was and what he stood for, and who ran from Potiphar's wife and ended up in jail for it. Ted made the point I was going to: Mordecai should have gone back to Jerusalem, as God had called him to — but Jerusalem was “backwater” and they probably wouldn't have sought a replacement for Vashti there. He will have a total redemption later, and I'll love him more then; right now, it was wrong. (And as several of you noted — we wouldn't have a story if he'd done otherwise.)

On verse 9 — “she pleased him and won his favor” — many commentators say Esther “charmed” Hegai, which I dislike; the text doesn't say that, and it sounds manipulative. “Won his favor” isn't the best translation either; the Hebrew has the sense of receiving or obtaining favor — favor earned, not engineered. Here's my thought: a Jewish girl so obedient to her cousin Mordecai is not going in there batting her eyelashes. Esther was raised to be respectful, humble, sincere, and obedient to her elders, and that is what she carried in — not mere beauty. (Beauty got Vashti very little.) Hegai is a eunuch; what appeals to a eunuch controlled by powerful men isn't beauty — it's being respected and having his opinion valued. That's the point: among many beautiful women, what set Esther apart and even settled a mad king was her character. As Ted said, that takes real wisdom.

She is given food — and, good point, probably not kosher, since she was not allowed to reveal her origins. One can only imagine how awkward that first non-kosher meal must have been, and how it got easier with each one — keep that in the back of your mind for the interpretation. She undergoes a year of beauty treatments, and when her turn comes she takes in to the king only what Hegai suggests — again, her respect and humility toward him. So she obtains the king's favor; noteworthy, too, that she sleeps with a pagan king out of wedlock, which had to be hard no matter how many steps she'd already taken against God's law. And she finds not merely favor but kindness with the king — and that word goes back to Ruth: it is hesed, covenant love. To win covenant love from a mad, volatile king speaks volumes about Esther's character and about God's providence.

Interpretation

Ted's interpretation: it's better to be in obedience, but even in disobedience God can use you — His plan is never thwarted. The opening of the story is fraught with drunken revelry, bad decisions, tender egos, wastefulness, and arrogance — in short, corruption. There are two buy-offs going on: the noblemen come paying the king for recognition, and the king turns around and buys the recognition of the commoners. As Frederick W. Bush observes, “the king who effectively rules the whole world cannot bend his own wife to his will; the first chapter's mockery has a sinister side, revealing a society ruled by the pride and pomposity of buffoons with tender egos, who can marshal the state's machinery for selfish and childish causes — a damning and rather scary picture: they get frightened of a women's movement and move the entire government in response.”

But who is working behind the scenes when, as yet, there's no threat to the Jews? God. It's a mystery how He works His providence while allowing men their free will, but He is clearly working on behalf of the Jews — to save them later from the consequences of Mordecai and Esther's own disobedience. As much as we appreciate Esther's kindness, respect, and obedience, as a Jew she's probably nominal at best; she and Mordecai could have behaved as Joseph did, and didn't. The two identities show clearly that they had integrated deeply into Persian culture and likely had no intention of going back — not unlike Elimelech and Naomi assimilating into Moab. These are ordinary people who sometimes make bad decisions, and from whom God never removes His hand.

And does it get easier with each non-kosher meal? Yes — which is the warning. Ted shared a sobering parallel from his global-missions days: stepping in as CFO, he uncovered a seven-figure fraud that had begun when a predecessor “borrowed” $50,000 from the missionary support account to cover overhead, fully intending to repay it; no one noticed, so months later he borrowed another $50,000, and after ten years it had grown to seven figures — the intent always to repay. That's exactly how easily we justify the ends by the means. By the time Esther faces going in to a mad gentile king, unmarried, after a year of pampering and compromise, she is utterly dependent on Hegai.

Application

Ted offered the first application: the need for individual accountability. We can't be free-range believers; we need each other to lovingly redirect us back to the proper path, because iron sharpens iron. Throughout history, monarchies and empires have had their strongholds of corruption — Watergate, the various scandals, Enron, Countrywide, Lehman Brothers in 2008 — and we've sadly seen it in mission boards and churches too, all on the belief that the ends justify the means, or the subtler lie that it's just one tiny act no one will notice. Like Xerxes — and frankly like Esther — one little act leads to another, and the hole gets deeper.

So: what areas of my life need prayerful correction and adjustment? “Confess your sins to one another” is a verse we skip over and badly misapply — how often do we really do it? And have we, as small churches and fellowships, faltered in being a haven where people feel they can confess and find forgiveness and acceptance? After 35 years as a pastor, the conviction is that the church should be the safest place in the world — the place where, asked how you're doing, you could say, “I had too much to drink yesterday and it was hard to come.” We are meant to be that haven, sharing the love of Christ.

How often does my selfishness get in the way of serving and loving others, including my husband? How often do we tell little white lies to avoid incriminating ourselves, or justify poor decisions to save face, or fear admitting we might be wrong? (True confession: my parents were awful at teaching us to apologize — they saw apologies as weakness rather than strength of character, when asking forgiveness is strength.) Ted added a practice he's begun: praying for the elder board that everyone would listen in order to learn and understand, instead of listening in order to reply — because so often we're forming our answer instead of truly listening. We aren't to be immune to correction; we're saved, but corruption can creep in anytime, which is why we need accountability partners to hold our feet to the fire.

Esther's story has a happily-ever-after, and we know how it ends — but here's the thing: what happens when we don't know how the story ends? That's how we live. Ultimately God is and will be victorious in the overarching story, but what about our day-to-day stories? Think of Vashti, placed in a no-win situation and obeying the law over her husband — look what it got her. Think of Esther, taken into a mad king's harem because he was having a pity party. Sometimes we suffer the consequences of our own poor decisions — and worse (this hit me hard), sometimes we suffer the consequences of someone else's, simply for being in the wrong place at the wrong time. Those times when bad things happen to good people hurt most when it comes from someone you least expect — a loved one, a devout believer, a church; you can only be betrayed by a friend.

What should our immediate response be when we're betrayed? Fall on our knees in prayer. God can take all those feelings — He can listen to you rant and rage — and His response is always the same: “I love you.” When it feels like silence, understand that's Satan's lie; the enemy wants you wallowing and whittling away your faith, but the truth is God's answer is always, “Don't worry, I've got you.” As Ted said, spend time in the Psalms, where David pours out his heart over disappointment and guilt time after time. The Psalms are a source of comfort. God says, “Don't worry, I've got you; trust Me, and lean not on your own understanding” — a faith-building answer, not a faith-diminishing one.

Closing Prayer

Heavenly Father, thank You for Your word and for the clarity You brought to two difficult chapters. Thank You for this fellowship we enjoy together today. We pray that we leave this room as different people than we were when we came; may Your Spirit fill us to overflowing, and may we exemplify the fruit of Your Spirit. In Christ's name we pray. Amen.