Three Ways from Shushan
Photo-by-Yossi-Zeliger
Purim 5783, Megillat Esther
Chaim Dauermann, Congregation Simchat Yisrael, West Haven, CT
I had a friend with whom I debated politics for many years. With the passage of time, she became increasingly agitated against Israel. She was neither Jewish nor a follower of Yeshua, which made our discussions about this topic particularly challenging. And I found her criticisms of Israel to be especially imbalanced and unfair, although she vociferously resisted that characterization. There was one particular element to Israel’s history that she found to be most objectionable, which she was unable to get beyond: the 1967 Six-Day War. Because Israel attacked first (in the face of imminent attack from armies amassed along its border) she felt this was an act of naked, inexcusable aggression, which delegitimized not only any territory gained during the war, but also any claim that Israel might have to being peaceful. Now, what I (and most Jewish people) understand, is that the choice Israel faced in 1967 was between attacking first, or suffering catastrophic loss of life—perhaps annihilation. But this was something my friend was unable (and unwilling) to see.
I thought of this friend the other day, as I was reading through Megillat Esther (the Book of Esther) for yet another time, pondering its lessons, and contemplating what it might have to teach me this year. It occurred to me that in the story’s conclusion, the Jewish people launch a preemptive attack in the face of certain annihilation, and by it, are saved. Could not the Jews of Esther’s day be criticized in the same way that my friend scrutinized Israel and the Six-Day War? Though direct mention of God is conspicuously absent from the Megillah (a fact that has engendered no shortage of discussion over the centuries) we see his hand throughout its events, culminating in the survival of his people in their place of exile. The Jewish people’s modern restoration to Eretz Yisrael came about through a largely secular political movement, but those who know how to discern the signs of the times can see God’s hand in it. And the parallels between Esther’s world and ours don’t stop there.
Purim is the most festive date on the Jewish calendar—a time of unfettered celebration and merriment, free of the somber reflection that typifies so many other Jewish holidays. In fact, perhaps it could even be said to be a repudiation of somber reflection. Scripture calls Purim a time of “gladness and feasting” (Esther 9:19), a time Jewish “sorrow was turned to joy and . . . mourning into celebration” (9:22). And there can be no doubt that we are right to celebrate our survival as a people. But at a time when antisemitism is on a precipitous rise, I have found it hard to take a joyful approach to the reading of Esther. This year, it seems too real. This year, it seems too relatable.
Antisemitic incidents are hitting the news with alarming frequency. Even the events of just the past few weeks seem too numerous to summarize. The increase is more than just a perceived one—it’s real. In the United States, the ADL has catalogued an alarming increase in instances of antisemitic harassment and violence in recent years. This sadly echoes recent trends in Europe. While the antisemitism of our generation has stopped short of governmental edicts, acts of violence directed toward Jews are still a present reality. Just this past weekend, Jewish communities in the US were gripped with anxiety after word spread that a neo-Nazi group was planning a “Day of Hate” targeting Jewish people. On Shabbat.
This year, as I read Esther, I find myself asking the text what it has to say to us today. While it may be ancient, the problems it deals with are tragically current. What can Esther teach us about Jewish survival? How does its text point us toward the future? I see three ways:
The Jewish people must continue to be self-reliant. Jewish self-determination was as vital in Shushan as it is in today’s Jerusalem. An interesting detail in Esther illustrates this point. In chapter 3, King Ahasuerus approves Haman’s plan to eradicate all the Jews in his kingdom. The edict announcing this was quickly sent out, and we read that “the city of Shushan was dumbfounded” by the decree (3:15). Yet not once is it recorded that there was any hint of resistance or action on the part of Shushan’s Gentile residents. While we could chalk that up to Ahasuerus’s reign being a brutal one, we need only look to Bigthan and Teresh’s ill-fated scheme (2:12-23), or Mordecai’s passive resistance to Haman, to see that dissent was not unheard-of. And yet, in the face of the destruction of the Jews, the people of Shushan remained passive—the “good Germans” of their place and time. Much later, once the plot has been preempted, and the Jewish people saved, “the city of Shushan rejoiced and shouted” (8:13), elated at the result, without having lifted a finger to bring it about. It is through the brave and principled actions of Mordecai and Esther that their people are saved, in a situation where they have no true allies.
Eventual victory for the Jewish people is assured by God. It’s true that the text of Esther lacks any direct mention of God (more on this topic below), but his fingerprints are all over the story. Two particularly conspicuous passages illustrate the divine ordination behind the book’s events. In chapter 4, Mordecai is imploring Esther to use her influence with the King to save her people. He tells her that if she remains silent, “relief and deliverance will arise for the Jews from another place—but you and your father’s house will perish” (4:14). Mordecai knows that, while their short-term fortunes are dependent on the decisions they make then and now, God’s long-term plan assures the safety of the Jewish people. Our future as a people is not in jeopardy, even if the safety of Jewish individuals might often be. And this sense of God’s provision for the Jews is not lost even on Esther’s enemies. As Haman’s plans begin to unravel, his own wife, Zeresh, warns him that he will not be able to successfully stand against Mordecai (6:13), being somehow aware that the deck was stacked in Jewish favor.
The third and final way can be found in the unique position that Esther holds within the scriptural canon. As Jewish followers of Yeshua, we stand at the crossroads of two traditions, and sometimes we may have a hard time fitting comfortably into either of them. Similarly, the book of Esther sits in a strange position in the canons of both traditions. It is the only book of the Tanakh without a manuscript counted among the Dead Sea Scrolls, and it is acknowledged in Jewish tradition as being the last to have been added to the canon. On the Christian side of things, Esther’s canonicity has been challenged throughout history. By some, on the grounds that it is insufficiently God-oriented, and by others, on the grounds that it is too Jewish. (Martin Luther described himself as “an enemy” of the book, saying that Jews esteemed the book too highly, and that it contained “heathen unnaturalities.”) While some might ask why this unique text is in the canon, it’s important to see that the canon could not be complete without it. Its inclusion points to the future of the Jewish people from within both traditions. As a record of how antisemitism flourishes, and how it can be defeated, it is an essential guide and inspiration for Jewish survival. And its presence in the Christian canon presents a stumbling block for anyone who might feel inclined to write the Jews out of the ongoing story of God’s people. Esther reminds us of the centrality of the Jewish people to God’s plans, and the consequences of standing against them.
So when you hear the Megillah read this Purim, by all means, rejoice. But don’t just rejoice for the triumph of Esther and Mordecai. Rejoice that, despite the best efforts (and occasional short-term gains) of the enemies of the Jewish people, relief and deliverance will arise from another place. ‘“For I know the plans that I have in mind for you,’ declares Adonai, ‘plans for shalom and not calamity—to give you a future and a hope’” (Jeremiah 29:11).
All Scripture references are from the Tree of Life Version, TLV.