For Such a Time as This
Esther 4:1-17
The Book of Esther is a book about the hand of God sustaining the community of faith in a culture where traditional values and the worship of God were seemingly absent. In Esther we learn that God sustained the community of faith through a person, through the courageous moral choice of a single individual, through a member of the younger generation who was born for such a time as this.
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The book begins with an ancient feminist, Queen Vashti, who wais commanded by her husband, the Persian King Xerxes, "to display her beauty to the nobles, for she was lovely to look at." Basically, what the king was ordering the queen to do was to dance evocatively in front of all his friends, who, given that this was a royal banquet, were no doubt drunk; the intoxicated King wanted to show off his trophy. Queen Vashti refused to be used in this way. I say, "Good for Queen Vashti." Unfortunately, King Xerxes deposed Queen Vashti for her disobedience, which means she was probably executed. But at least she had her dignity. The search was now on for a new queen.
A eunuch in the king's court named Mordecai had a niece, Esther, who by all accounts was beautiful. Mordecai coached his niece to apply for the job, but not to tell anyone she was Jewish because that might hurt her chances for this promotion. Well, after a search process of over twelve months, Esther was hired to replace Vashti. Xerxes named her Queen. So far, so good...but then the plot thickened.
Evil entered and began to cause problems. Mordecai overheard two of the king's officials plotting to assassinate the king. Mordecai reported the plot and saved Xerxes. Then, Haman, the king's second in command, was honored by the king and a law put out saying all people must bow in Haman's presence. Mordecai, as a good Jew, would bow to no man. Haman was furious and began to plot against Mordecai. But not only Mordecai, but all of Mordecai's people as well. Haman put a bug in the king's ear to get the king to believe the Jews were his enemies who only sought the king's destruction, which the king believed because there had been a plot on his life already. On Haman's advice, the king issued a law saying all Jews were to be exterminated. Genocide. Kill everyone. We are now at the point of the story where we read today's Scripture.
The conflict in the story comes down to this: King Xerxes had issued a law to kill all the Jews not knowing that Queen Esther was herself a Jew. If Esther says nothing, she herself might be saved but her people will be destroyed. If Esther speaks up, she puts herself at risk but may save her people. Esther was young. Esther was inexperienced. Esther was afraid. Esther had every right to be afraid; after all, look what happened to Vashti. One other thing about Esther: she was the one through whom God has chosen to work to save the community of faith. Through Esther, God would save his people.
Do you realize that nowhere in the Book of Esther is God mentioned? Nowhere. Not one time. Nowhere is a word spoken about worship or prayer or the Bible. Nothing. It is, on the surface, a completely secular book. Some Christian and Jewish leaders through the centuries have argued that Esther should not be in the Bible because of its seemingly secular character. God may not be mentioned but his hand is everywhere apparent; God is present even when we do not perceive him. Still, the ball was in Esther's court: young, inexperienced, and sorely afraid Esther. Seemingly, the community of faith was but one bad decision by a young person away from extinction. Or was it? Was it really possible that God would allow the survival of the faith community to depend upon any one person? Or any one group? Or anyone other than himself? We hear the answer in today's Scripture reading from chapter four.
In chapter four Mordecai proclaimed the gospel to Esther, "If you remain silent at this time, relief and deliverance for the Jews will arise from another place...And who knows but that you have come to royal position for such a time as this?" Mordecai's ministry to the next generation, to Esther, was a ministry of reminder. Mordecai reminded Esther of God's faithfulness to the people with whom he had made covenant: "deliverance will arise." Mordecai reminded Esther of her opportunity to be faithful: "you have come...for such a time as this." Mordecai's words spoke to the indisputable fact of the community of faith. Israel will continue. The Church will continue. The only question was who will know the blessing of God? Who will know the blessing of God that comes from taking a risk in faith, a risk that requires a servant heart for the people? Will it be Esther or someone else?
The Book of Esther would not have been written, of course, if Esther had not decided to take that risk of faith to serve her people. Esther spoke to King Xerxes to plead for mercy on their behalf. A new law was issued making void the old law. Haman and his ten sons were hung as traitors to the king. The Jews were given permission to take up arms against those who would have killed them, and they slaughtered those who had plotted against them. Mordecai was exalted for his faithful service. And the people celebrated wildly, establishing the holiday known as Purim. All because the next generation stepped up and grabbed hold of God's blessing by taking the risk to be faithful in service to others. Theoretically, the next generation could have failed to be faithful. Theoretically, the community of faith might have become extinct because of the next generation's failure. But actually, in the reality of God, the reality we call God's providence, such eventualities could not have happened because God would not have let it happen.
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What are we to make of the Book of Esther?
It is impossible, I think, or at least inappropriate, to read Esther and ignore the realities of what is going on in Lebanon and Israel right now. As the Israeli army seeks to crush the Hizbollah militants, and as the U.N. calls for an immediate cease fire, we cannot adequately understand the dynamics of what is happening unless we heed the history of the region.
The Holy Land is a land of brutality. For four-thousand years the land has been fought over. Next to the Western Wall, is a display that graphically portrays the history of conflict as it reviews the different peoples who have controlled the land: Canannites, Israelites, Assyrians, Babylonians, Persians, Greeks, Syrians, Romans, Byzantine Christians, Arab Muslims, Europeans Crusaders, Mongolian Muslims, Turkish Muslims, British and now Israelis. Every two to four hundred years, someone different controls the land. One after another after another conqueror has taken the land; it is an accepted and expected practice. What struck me most in seeing this display, however, is the way the history was remembered and rehearsed as living fact.
One of the three sites the Israeli military uses for graduation ceremonies from basic training is the ancient fortress of Masada overlooking the Dead Sea where the Jewish rebellion against the Romans in A.D. 67-72 came to an end. The defeat of the Jews at Masada was an amazing thing, for the fortress is built upon a massive cliff ten stories high. The only way to ascend Masada is by a narrow, one person lane called the snake trail, so it is impossible for an invading army to reach Masada that way. What the Romans did was bring in 10,000 soldiers to build a mountain next to the cliff, so that they could bring in their siegeworks with which they could attack the fortress walls. But even with 10,000 soldiers the Romans couldn’t make any head way because the Jews just stood up on top of the cliff and literally dropped cannon balls on their heads. So, how did the Romans win? Well, when Jerusalem fell in A.D. 70, the Romans suddenly had 5,000 Jewish slaves to help them build up the mountain. At first, the Jews dropped cannon balls on the slaves, but then someone heard the language they were speaking – Aramaic. And the Jews on Masada refused to kill their own, which enabled the Romans, through the slaves’ efforts, to build a mountain next to the cliff. The Jews were destroyed in A.D. 72.
Now here is the point of my telling you about Masada. When the cadets in the Israeli army graduate, they stand together on the top of Masada and shout together three times, “Masada shall never fall again!” Think about what they are saying. Why did Masada fall? It fell because Jews refused to kill each other. What are the cadets really saying at their graduation ceremony? Even if we have to kill our own; we shall not be defeated. They are actively remembering and rehearsing a battle from 2000 years ago as living fact. And what they are saying is: Never again.
Never again is the message of Yad Hashem, the Holocaust Museum in Jerusalem. We spent three hours in the museum one morning: it was horrific! The systematic betrayal, brutalization and barbaric murdering of 6,000,000 Jews by the Nazis is one of the great stains on European society. Every Jewish soldier spends one week studying at Yad Hashem as part of their basic training. Never again.
Never again. This is the message of Esther. We will stand against those who seek to kill us, says Esther. For such a time as this, we were born: to protect our people, says Esther. We will celebrate Purim every year as a holy day to remember the way Haman sought to destroy us, says Esther. We will remember every year the deliverance of our people, says Esther. We will remember. We will not forget. We will rehearse the history until it is as alive today as it was when it happened. We will not forget.
But the Jews are not the only ones with long memories. The Zionist movement in the late 1800’s began a push for Jews to return to Palestine. The Zionists’ slogan was: “A people without a land, for a land without a people.” But the slogan was a lie. When the Israelis invaded Palestine in 1948 there were over 1,000 Arab villages in that “land without a people.” The Arabs can stand on a hill and look across to another hill, point to a house, and say, “That was my grandfather’s home. That was the home I grew up in. It was taken from my family.” In a land that has seen a change of ownership every two to four-hundred years, the Arabs will not forget, either. In a land that rehearses ancient battles as if they happened yesterday, the Arabs will remember, also. We in the West tell the Arabs, “Israel has been in existence 60 years; it’s time you accepted the ‘facts on the ground.’” And they say to us, “Sixty years? What is sixty years? We will not forget in 600 years. We will remember for 6,000 years.”
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The Lord Jesus was caught dead in the middle of this modern debate, and I mean “dead” both literally and figuratively. As we have talked about the last couple of weeks, when the Jews came back from exile in Babylon, about 400 years before Jesus, they returned with a renewed religious devotion to the Lord. They saw that it was because of their chasing after other gods that the Lord’s hand of protection had been lifted from them. They had become too cozy with the Gentiles and begun to follow the Gentile gods: that was why they were defeated; that was why they were enslaved.
Upon their return from exile, the Israelites engaged in a long, 400 year debate over how they should relate to the Gentiles. As we have seen, the book of Nehemiah represents the view that the Gentiles should be walled off, kept separate that Israel might be kept pure. The book of Esther sits firmly in this camp. The book of Jonah represents a different view, the view that the people should remain pure but the Lord’s call is for Israel to be a blessing to the nations. And one cannot bless those whom one does not love.
By the time Jesus was ministering, Roman soldiers oppressed the people. The Nehemiah and Esther camp, otherwise known as the Pharisees, the Zealots, the Essenes, had expectations of a Messiah who would lead Israel into freedom through means of force. For most Israelites, the term “Messiah” meant “one who will lead our armed forces against the Gentile oppressor.” They awaited one to be born in the spirit of Esther to free the people, one born “for such a time as this.” And Jesus came proclaiming to be Messiah. But what kind of “Messiah” did Jesus claim to be?
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How desperately does the Holy Land need to hear such a message? Imagine the possibilities if the message of Jesus could be experienced among the Jewish, Muslim, Christian and non-religious people who live in that part of the world! And yet, having imagined peace breaking out in the Middle East, I am forced from my reverie by what I see in my own home or out my office window.
I know some of you think my sermons of late are too political. Some of you even think I have a political agenda that leans left. I really don’t intend to be this way. Rather, my heart’s desire is to grapple with the Word. My job, as I perceive it, is to wrestle with the text and then shine light on what I have heard from above. I have as much difficulty with the implications of God’s Word as any of you. I also find some of what I hear hard to accept, for God’s Word is a two-edged sword that pierces every human heart to judge and to correct. I, too, stand under God’s judgment. As do you.
So what are we to make of the book of Esther. Perhaps it is too great a thing to imagine the possibilities if the message of Jesus could be experienced in the Middle East. Perhaps, rather, it is sufficient to imagine the possibilities if the message of Jesus could be experienced among the people of Pueblo, Colorado! Even more, it is necessary to accept that the possibilities for Pueblo must start with me (and you). Yes indeed, let there be peace on earth but let it begin with me (and you)!
Who knows but that we have come here for such a time as this?
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