The second installment of the article I began here.
The story of Purim is contained in the *Book of Esther*. It is highly unusual that this book was included in the Biblical canon. For one thing, it is the only Biblical book that does not mention God at all. It has the character of a sex farce, some lewd adult fairy tale. The book itself claims it was written by its main characters – Mordehai and Esther.
That this is a ludicrous claim is the only fact universally agreed upon by scholars, along with the notion that the book is of no historical value. The earliest time it might have been written is the Maccabean period. Some scholars attribute it as late as the first century B.C.E. It is the only book of the Bible not found amongst the Dead Sea scrolls of Qumran. Given all the unknowns, the consensus seems to be that the book was included in the Bible precisely because it is the origin tale of Purim. By contrast however, the Book of Maccabees (which is of greater historical value) is not part of the canon. So the book remains a mystery open to many interpretations.
The book is extremely well written, filled with humor, suspense and twists in plot. It manages to be engrossing and hold your attention until the boring last chapters (which were obviously tacked on to the original story). The book begins by introducing King Ahashverosh, who “reigned from India even unto Ethiopia, over a hundred and seven and twenty provinces” who is throwing a big party. Traditionalists identify him with Xerxes (even though historically there were only about thirty satrapies in his time or ever in Persian history).
Obviously, the point of the phrase noted above (which is repeated several times), is to portray Ahashverosh as a mighty emperor, ruler of the known world. But he is also portrayed as a party boy, a drunk, a fool, emperor only because he inherited his position from his Daddy, uninterested in affairs of state and so easily manipulated by his sycophantic ministers. When I was younger, that characterization of the man was enough to convince me that the book was a-historical. After all how could a mighty emperor be such a clown? But the description of Ahashverosh fits to a tee our modern day Emperor, so who knows? Plus ca change….
Getting back to the party, after seven days “when the heart of the king was merry with wine” (one can imagine) he calls for his Queen Vashti to appear before his guests in the royal crown. Rabbinical pranksters are quick to note that this implies she was to appear wearing *only* the crown and nothing else! Vashti refuses.The drunk king is royally pissed. He asks his advisors what to do. So Memucan says that Vashti insulted not only the king but set a bad example for all the woman of the kingdom. Soon they will all begin acting uppity to their husbands. This can’t be tolerated! A decree must go out that Vashti will be banished (or killed – the text is unclear) and “her royal estate will be given unto another that is better than she.” Moreover, slurred Memucan, the king should publish a decree throughout all his empire that “all the wives shall give to their husbands honour, both to great and small.” There were many raised glasses and shouts of “here, here” as all the drunken assemblage of men cheered this wonderful idea.
In the sixties, Jewish feminists found this so appalling and offensive, that they declared Vashti was a true feminist heroine (and Esther was a wimpy sell-out). This declaration cemented the notion that feminists totally lack a sense of humor. If anyone doubts that it is Ahashverosh who is being mocked here, the story continues. When he wakes from his drunken stupor (obviously with the mother of all hangovers) “he remembered Vashti, and what she had done, and what was decreed against her. ” The obviously morose and regretful king needs to be distracted now that he’s lost his queen. So his servants decide to “gather together all the fair young virgins unto Shushan the palace “. The virgins were to prepare themselves for twelve months in baths of perfume and oil, and then go to the king for one night of his pleasure. From there, they went straight to the harem and would only get to see the King again if “the king delighted in her, and that she were called by name.”
Just like the kings ridiculous decree, this is obviously some silly male fantasy. Now one of these virgins, was a young woman named Esther, whose Hebrew name is Hadassah (which means myrtle in Hebrew). She is a first cousin (not the niece as many mistakenly think) to a man named Mordehai. She is an orphan, and Mordehai adopts her and raises her. Mordehai is one of the Babylonian exiles from Israel, from the tribe of Benjamin. He is actually the first Biblical character who is a member of another Israelite tribe and yet referred to as a Jew – Yehudi – that is a Judean, someone from the tribe of Judah! Yet another indication of the late composition of this book. (N.B.: there are a million variations on the spelling of this name in English. The *h* should be dotted to indicate it is pronounced as the gutteral *kh*).
The traditionalist Rabbis have a problem with this part of the story. After all it would have been inappropriate for Mordehai to live alone with his young female cousin. So, some Rabbis claim that Mordehai actually married Hadassah! Where did the Rabbis get the idea that they were married from the text itself? I love this explanation from the Ohr Sameyah website:
Delores Elliott from Courtenay, British Columbia wrote: Dear Rabbi, We are confused. Some Rabbis contend that Esther was Mordecai’s wife and if she was, that raises a lot of legal questions and yet in Holy Scriptures we cannot find anything except that she was raised by him and that she was like his daughter! Help! Am I missing something here? Thank you so much. We enjoy your answers and have been collecting them in a notebook to refer back to for answers.
Dear Delores Elliott, The Book of Esther says, “And he adopted Haddasah, i.e., Esther…and when her mother and father died, Mordechai took her to him as a daughter.” (Esther 2) There are three apparent snags in this verse. First, since the verse says that Mordechai “adopted Haddasah,” why does it seem to repeat the fact that he “took her to him as a daughter?” Isn’t that the same thing? Second, there is no legal status of “adoptive parent” in Judaism; that is, you raise an orphan girl in your home, but you don’t “take her as a daughter.” Finally and most notably, “took her to him” is always used in the Torah to refer to marriage. Literally, then, the verse is saying that he married her. Why does it use the term “daughter?” The terms “sister” and “daughter” are common expressions of endearment, as we see in other places in the Torah (e.g., Ruth 2:8, Shir Hashirim 4:9) and Talmud (e.g., Shabbat 13b). The idea is that a husband and wife should develop a loving and giving relationship as one naturally has with one’s child and sibling. So, it’s not hard to see how the Talmudic Sages saw in this verse support for the oral tradition that says Mordechai, Esther’s cousin, was also her husband.”
Uh huh! But this raises all kinds of other problems. For example, how could Esther be passed off as a virgin? The Rabbis have an answer for this one as well: (Talmud Megillah 13a): “‘And the king loved Esther more than all the women and favored her above all the virgins’ (Esther 2:17). Rav said: When he wanted to be with a virgin, she was like a virgin, and when he wanted to be with an experienced woman, she was so [therefore it says 'more than all the women and...all the virgins--Rashi].” Talk about male fantasies!
But the problem for the Rabbis don’t end there: how could a righteous Jewish woman be married to Mordehai and then marry another man, a gentile no less? The Rabbis in the Talmud explain that Esther was not sexually active. She was passive. It was Ahashverosh who was active; Esther had no choice. Had she resisted, she would have faced the same fate Vashti faced. If I remember correctly the Rabbis say it was as if Ahashverosh was having sex with the earth, not a woman. In Jewish legend there is another explanation: God sent down a female spirit in the guise of Esther to take her place with the king. Esther herself never had sex with the king (which doesn’t exactly jive with Rav’s rhapsody on Esther’s sexual “magic” – or perhaps it does!).
It should be obvious by now that any attempt to reconcile this irreverent text with more traditional mores is doomed to farcical failure. Which is part of the brilliance of the text. Getting back to the story: Esther finds favor in the king’s eyes, and he makes her queen in place of Vashti. But following Mordehai’s instructions, Esther does not reveal her ethnic origin.
At this point, a new character is introduced – Haman the Aggagite. Now the story comes into its own and moves from farce to epic. Mordehai “ish Yemini” a man from the tribe of Benjamin and obviously a descendant of King Saul, is to square off once more against a descendant of his ancestor’s nemesis, our good friend King Agag. Wait a minute! Didn’t it say in the book of Samuel that Saul killed all the Amalikites except Agag, and Samuel finished him off? So how could Agag have a descendant? I remember asking that question to my sixth grade teacher when first learning the text in Samuel. To which my teacher responded that a child sprung full born from Agag’s head before he was killed! I have never seen that version of the story anywhere else. But indeed, the Rabbis say that because of Saul’s screw up, Agag managed to have a child before he died. However, since all the Amalekite women had been killed he must have slept with an Israelite lass, which would mean Haman was a Jew as well. Many murderous anti-semites were Jews or descendants of Jews so Haman’s Jewish origin would not be far-fetched. Nonetheless, perhaps the child-from-head version came about because the child-from-Israelite-girl alternative is even more headache inducing.
Back in ancient Shushan, the confrontation is set up as follows. Haman is appointed Prime Minister, and all are to bow before him. But the proud Jew Mordehai refuses. Note, there is nothing in Jewish law which forbids obeisance to a government official especially when your life is in danger. Hence the Rabbi’s had to claim that Haman walked around with a necklace that had a little idol on it and that would be sufficient reason for Mordehai to refuse to bow down even if it meant risking his life.
For some strange reason, Haman doesn’t immediately kill Mordehai for his insolence (why do evil villains always do that? Don’t they watch movies and know they are setting themselves up for failure?) Instead, the wily coward goes to the king and says: “There is a nation scattered and separated among the nations throughout your empire. Their laws are different than everyone else’s, they do not obey the king’s laws, and it does not pay for the king to tolerate their existence. If it pleases the king, let a law be written that they be destroyed, and I will pay to the executors ten thousand silver Kikar-coins for the king’s treasury.” If Mordehai is the first Jew, Haman is the first genocidal anti-semite.
I once interviewed the Israeli author Aharon Appelfeld. I asked him why he wrote his books in Hebrew and not Yiddish, considering the milieu in which his stories take place are the Eastern European world of Yiddish speaking Jews and he is not a native Hebrew speaker. He gave me a sweet smile and in his soft-spoken voice replied: “The answer is obvious. It’s a great honor to be able to write in the language of the Bible.” There is a reason the books of the Bible continue to be the most widely read books across the centuries. True they are filled with lot’s of nonsense and long, boring passages. Sadly they are used and misused by fundamentalist fanatics to justify the most horrible crimes. But they remain among the greatest works of literature, containing passages of sublime beauty and deep insight into human behavior.
We now come to one such passage, which helps explain why this book was included in the canon. Full appreciation of the passage can only be had in the original Hebrew and much is lost in translation. Yet even in translation, it is amazing. Firstly a note to feminist critics: all the men in this book are pathetic. Ahashverosh is a drunken clown, Haman is a bumbling villain, and Mordehai – well he’s a flaming wimp. When he hears the news about Haman’s genocidal decree what does he do? Remember it his actions that are the direct cause of this catastrophe. It was his overweening male pride and nothing else that brought disaster to his whole people. But does he do something to fight back? Is he a man of action? No. He puts on a sackcloth and ashes, and then: “He went to the center of the city and wailed a loud and bitter cry.” Oh, that’s really going to help. He then goes and sits at the king’s gate, “because it was forbidden to enter the king’s gate while wearing sackcloth.”
Note, that whereas before he was perfectly happy to defy the law, now when he needs to take action he becomes meek and obedient. As he no doubt hoped, he is finally noticed by Esther’s maids, who inform her of her cousin’s bizarre behavior. Understandably upset, Esther sends him some clean underwear and some nice clothing so he can come talk to her. Mordehai, who no doubt was afraid of running into Haman or one of his courtiers, decides to stay put. Instead he explains the situation to Esther’s servant and “commands” Esther to go to the king to beg and plead on behalf of the Jews. Esther, hearing this, responds to Mordehai: “The servants of the king and the people of the provinces all know that any man or woman who comes to the king in the inner court without being summoned is sentenced to death by the law, unless the king extends his royal scepter to him, granting him life. And the king has not called for me for thirty days now.” To which Mordehai responds: “Don’t be so selfish and think because you live with the king, you will be saved. Even if you are silent now, the Jews will get relief and rescue some other way, but you and your father’s house will be lost. And who knows? Maybe it was for just such an occasion that you were made queen!”
What a hypocrite! Mordehai wasn’t willing to risk his life to come and tell Esther of the danger directly. Yet he chastises Esther for being a bit reluctant to take her life in her hands. Nothing Esther said implies she felt she could escape the danger. She was legitimately pointing out the risk Mordehai’s request entailed. If she failed, everyone would be at risk. But instead of giving her good advice, Mordehai gives her a bombastic, self-righteous lecture.
From this point on, realizing she can’t rely on the men around her, Esther takes command. Her first action is to command Mordehai to gather all the Jews together and have them fast on her behalf. Then, she will go to the King “and if I perish, so be it!” Like all great heros, Esther isn’t fearless. She is not at all eager to take the risks that Mordehai wants to thrust on her. Her heroism lies in overcoming her fears. Until now Esther has let things happen to her. She is taken to the “virgin” contest without protest. She makes no choices of her own but follows the Eunuch’s recommendation on how to prepare to meet the king. She is obedient to the king and to Mordehai. Now, a big change takes place. For the first time, she takes her own fate into her hands, yet another characteristic of the hero. To emphasize her new insight, she commands everyone in the community to fast. Since everyone is at risk, they all must participate in some way in the attempt to save themselves and change their fate. Wailing and whining is not enough.
Traditionalist were quick to seize upon this passage and give it a “religious” twist. When Mordehai says “if you are silent now, the Jews will get relief and rescue some other way” they argue he means “God will find some other way to save the Jews.” Similarly “maybe it was for just such an occasion that you were made queen!” means “this was God’s intention.” But the plain meaning of the text is stubbornly secular. Even when Esther calls on the Jews to fast, she just says they shouldn’t eat or drink. No mention is made of prayer, which is highly unusual. The text seems to be clearly saying: when in danger, take action and save yourself. Don’t rely on some divine intervention.
Having dealt with her wimpy cousin, Esther proceeds to deal with the other two wimps in her life. She goes to the King who instantly melts in her presence and extends his scepter to her (hint, hint, wink, wink, notice the innuendo). The king ask Esther what she wants and offers to do anything for her. She invites him and Haman to a party the next day. No doubt the king wonders why she is inviting Haman, but after saying he would do anything for her, how can he refuse such a modest request.
At the party he again repeats to Esther that he would do anything to please her. Again, she invites him to a party the next day, but promises to reveal her true request then. The author is obviously building the suspense, and we, like Ahashverosh can’t wait to find out what Esther is up to. That night Ahashverosh can’t sleep. Obviously he is all worked up wondering what Esther has in mind. And why does she keep inviting along that pesky Haman? Instead of taking a sleeping pill, he asks his servants to read from the royal archives. Since these involve affairs of state, they bore the party king to tears and are the perfect soporific. In fact, he perks up when they read a passage about someone who recently saved his life by uncovering an assassination plot. He asks his servants if any reward was given to the person and they respond that no reward had been recorded.
Just then Haman happens to walk by and the king asks him how he would reward someone the king would like to honor. Haman, thinking the king is referring to him, proceeds to suggest: “For the man that the king wants to honor, they should bring the royal clothing that only the king wears, and the royal horse that only the king rides, which is the horse that wears a royal crown. The clothes and horse should be given to one of the king’s ministers, a nobleman, who should dress the man the king wants to honor, and lead him through the streets on the royal horse. He should call out, ‘This is what is done to the man the king wishes to honor!’” Upon hearing this, the king commands Haman follow these instructions exactly and give honor to Mordehai the Jew who recently saved the king’s own life.
This is the turning point of the story. No doubt, even the foolish Ahashverosh realized Haman was thinking of himself when he made the suggestion, and thereby arouses Ahashverosh’s suspicion that Haman is plotting to overthrow him. And after honoring Mordehai, Haman returns home depressed and with a bowed head. Instead of comforting him, his wife and servants say: “Since Mordechai is a Jew, now that you have begun to lose to him you will never get the upper hand. You will lose to him entirely.” Just then Haman is rushed away to Esther’s banquet.
At the banquet, Esther finally reveals her request to the king: “If I find favor in the king’s eyes and it please the king, my request is to save my life and my desire is to save my people. Because my people have been sold to be killed and utterly destroyed. Had we been sold as slaves I would have remained silent out of consideration for the king’s financial loss.” The king responds to Esther: “Who is the person who would do such a despicable thing?” And Esther, pointing at Haman says: “Our enemy and adversary is this evil man, this Haman!” The king leaves the room in a huff of anger, and Haman falls upon the Queen to request her clemency. When the King returns and sees Haman sprawled on the Queen’s couch, he no doubt thinks about what happened the previous evening. He shouts at Haman: “Would you take my Queen even in my presence?” And to seal Haman’s fate, Harvona, the king’s servant pipes up: “There’s also a fifty-cubit-high gallows in Haman’s house that Haman made for Mordechai, who saved the king.” To which Ahashverosh responds: “Hang Haman on it.” Curtain falls. Audience applauds. We all leave with a smile on our face.
Wait. Wait. Sit down everyone. Two and a half more chapters to go. Audience groans. We’ll talk more about these two chapters in our next (and final installment). At this point I want to emphasize again how clever, resourceful and forceful Esther is, how weak and foolish the men are. Even though the Saul-Agag rematch would seem to be set up so that Mordehai is the one to defeat Haman, it is in fact Esther who defeats him and restores the historical balance. Even in a modern context, a film where a woman gunslinger defeats the evil sheriff in the final shootout, would be considered a radical departure from the conventions of the Western flick. Think how radical this Book is, given the culture and time it was written in. If any book of the Bible was written by a woman, this is probably the one.
Since I so obviously enjoy this book, then why do I hate Purim so much? That I leave to the next installment.
Tags: Feature, Judaism, Nationalism