She Didn't Have To
The Book of Esther
17th Sunday of Pentecost B
She didn’t have to.
Esther was relatively safe. She was the queen, and very few people knew she was a Jew. She lived in Persia when the Jewish people were taken from their homeland and enslaved in Persia - hundreds of years after their captivity in Egypt. She was a beautiful young woman and became queen after Ahasuerus dismissed his first wife for being insubordinate. Actually, Esther spent a year having a cosmetic makeover with hundreds of other young women preparing to meet the king and be considered for queen. Esther, who was beautiful and savvy, was chosen. (This is the PG version of the story. Read the book -- it's quite interesting.)
But trouble came when her cousin, who had raised her, Mordecai, offended the wrong Persian official. He refused to bow to Haman, who thought rather a lot of himself, so Haman plotted to hang Mordecai and kill all the Jews for good measure. He got the king, Ahasuerus, to agree to this edict, and a signed statement went out to all the provinces that the Jews would be killed on the 13th day of Adar, a date that was chosen by lots (pur).
Mordecai appealed to Esther, who could speak to the king directly. But she was afraid. If someone entered into the king’s presence without being called, the king could kill them. If the king held out the golden scepter, then they could live. She told Mordecai, through her servant, that she could not do this.
Mordecai responded: perhaps you came to the court for just such a time as this.
Then have everyone, all the Jews, fast for three days, she said.
She didn’t have to. But on the third day she put on her royal robes and went in to the king. When he saw her he held out his scepter to her. “What is your request?” he asked. “Even unto half of my kingdom.”
“Come to a banquet I will hold in your honor,” she said, “with Haman.”
Haman was quite pleased with himself for this invitation. He thought he was very special. And so the king and Haman came to the banquet. And after drinking much wine, the king said, “What is your request? Even up to half my kingdom I will grant it.”
“Come again tomorrow night to another banquet, both of you.” And so they did.
That night, after much drinking, the king again asked Esther her request. She replied, “If I have won your favor, give me my life and the lives of my people. We are going to be destroyed, and no one can compensate such damage to the king.”
The king was outraged! Who would do such a thing? Esther responded, “Haman!”
For some reason the king stepped out of the room for a moment at this point, and Haman was terrified and threw himself on Esther, pleading mercy. When the king walked in again he thought Haman was attacking Esther, so he ordered him killed, hung on the very gallows Haman had built for Mordecai.
And after some difficult legal complications, a decree went out to save the Jews. And to celebrate this event the Jews hold a feast day called Purim.
She didn’t have to. She might have been safe, being quiet. She didn’t have to, but she did. Esther said something.
You know, there is a lot of question about why Esther is in the Bible at all. There is fasting, but no praying. There are Jews, but no God. It doesn’t seem to have a purpose except to explain the feast of Purim.
But the entire Bible holds statements of justice. The entire Bible, Hebrew scripture and New Testament, all tell stories and have words calling us to speak and act out for the lost and forsaken. “Justice” occurs 163 times in the Bible, fifteen times less than the word “hope.” Esther is about justice for a people being destroyed. Esther didn’t have to say anything, but she did.
In our Covenant Discipleship group we talk every week about how to do works of justice. Compassion is so much easier - it can be gentle, quiet, and personal. But justice seems to require more effort. It seems to involve more risk. If we speak up - we aren’t likely to be killed, but it feels a little dicey. People might have ideas about us. We might be written up on some list. It might require some time and money from us. People might argue with us.
We don’t have to.
We don’t have to. We don’t have to speak out against the annihilation of the people of Darfur, we don’t have to talk about the violence against the civilians of Colombia, we don’t have to ask why there are so many homeless children in Minnesota. We don’t have to.
We don’t have to. But perhaps, just perhaps, we have been put in the place we are, the very spot we are, for just such a time as this.
17th Sunday of Pentecost B
She didn’t have to.
Esther was relatively safe. She was the queen, and very few people knew she was a Jew. She lived in Persia when the Jewish people were taken from their homeland and enslaved in Persia - hundreds of years after their captivity in Egypt. She was a beautiful young woman and became queen after Ahasuerus dismissed his first wife for being insubordinate. Actually, Esther spent a year having a cosmetic makeover with hundreds of other young women preparing to meet the king and be considered for queen. Esther, who was beautiful and savvy, was chosen. (This is the PG version of the story. Read the book -- it's quite interesting.)
But trouble came when her cousin, who had raised her, Mordecai, offended the wrong Persian official. He refused to bow to Haman, who thought rather a lot of himself, so Haman plotted to hang Mordecai and kill all the Jews for good measure. He got the king, Ahasuerus, to agree to this edict, and a signed statement went out to all the provinces that the Jews would be killed on the 13th day of Adar, a date that was chosen by lots (pur).
Mordecai appealed to Esther, who could speak to the king directly. But she was afraid. If someone entered into the king’s presence without being called, the king could kill them. If the king held out the golden scepter, then they could live. She told Mordecai, through her servant, that she could not do this.
Mordecai responded: perhaps you came to the court for just such a time as this.
Then have everyone, all the Jews, fast for three days, she said.
She didn’t have to. But on the third day she put on her royal robes and went in to the king. When he saw her he held out his scepter to her. “What is your request?” he asked. “Even unto half of my kingdom.”
“Come to a banquet I will hold in your honor,” she said, “with Haman.”
Haman was quite pleased with himself for this invitation. He thought he was very special. And so the king and Haman came to the banquet. And after drinking much wine, the king said, “What is your request? Even up to half my kingdom I will grant it.”
“Come again tomorrow night to another banquet, both of you.” And so they did.
That night, after much drinking, the king again asked Esther her request. She replied, “If I have won your favor, give me my life and the lives of my people. We are going to be destroyed, and no one can compensate such damage to the king.”
The king was outraged! Who would do such a thing? Esther responded, “Haman!”
For some reason the king stepped out of the room for a moment at this point, and Haman was terrified and threw himself on Esther, pleading mercy. When the king walked in again he thought Haman was attacking Esther, so he ordered him killed, hung on the very gallows Haman had built for Mordecai.
And after some difficult legal complications, a decree went out to save the Jews. And to celebrate this event the Jews hold a feast day called Purim.
She didn’t have to. She might have been safe, being quiet. She didn’t have to, but she did. Esther said something.
You know, there is a lot of question about why Esther is in the Bible at all. There is fasting, but no praying. There are Jews, but no God. It doesn’t seem to have a purpose except to explain the feast of Purim.
But the entire Bible holds statements of justice. The entire Bible, Hebrew scripture and New Testament, all tell stories and have words calling us to speak and act out for the lost and forsaken. “Justice” occurs 163 times in the Bible, fifteen times less than the word “hope.” Esther is about justice for a people being destroyed. Esther didn’t have to say anything, but she did.
In our Covenant Discipleship group we talk every week about how to do works of justice. Compassion is so much easier - it can be gentle, quiet, and personal. But justice seems to require more effort. It seems to involve more risk. If we speak up - we aren’t likely to be killed, but it feels a little dicey. People might have ideas about us. We might be written up on some list. It might require some time and money from us. People might argue with us.
We don’t have to.
We don’t have to. We don’t have to speak out against the annihilation of the people of Darfur, we don’t have to talk about the violence against the civilians of Colombia, we don’t have to ask why there are so many homeless children in Minnesota. We don’t have to.
We don’t have to. But perhaps, just perhaps, we have been put in the place we are, the very spot we are, for just such a time as this.
posted by Michelle at 7:58 PM
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