“Picking Our Fights” Esther 3:1-15

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Brett Younger Senior Minister June 13, 2021 The Fourth Sunday of Pentecost After these things King Ahasuerus promoted Haman son of Hammedatha the Agagite, and advanced him and set his seat above all the officials who were with him. And all the king’s servants who were at the king’s gate bowed down and did obeisance to Haman; for the king had so commanded concerning him. But Mordecai did not bow down or do obeisance. Then the king’s servants who were at the king’s gate said to Mordecai, “Why do you disobey the king’s command?” When they spoke to him day after day and he would not listen to them, they told Haman, in order to see whether Mordecai’s words would avail; for he had told them that he was a Jew. When Haman saw that Mordecai did not bow down or do obeisance to him, Haman was infuriated. But he thought it beneath him to lay hands on Mordecai alone. So, having been told who Mordecai’s people were, Haman plotted to destroy all the Jews, the people of Mordecai, throughout the whole kingdom of Ahasuerus. In the first month, which is the month of Nisan, in the twelfth year of King Ahasuerus, they cast Pur—which means “the lot”— before Haman for the day and for the month, and the lot fell on the thirteenth day of the twelfth month, which is the month of Adar. Then Haman said to King Ahasuerus, “There is a certain people scattered and separated among the peoples in all the provinces of your kingdom; their laws are different from those of every other people, and they do not keep the king’s laws, so that it is not appropriate for the king to tolerate them. If it pleases the king, let a decree be issued for their destruction, and I will pay ten thousand talents of silver into the hands of those who have charge of the king’s business, so that they may put it into the king’s treasuries.” So the king took his signet ring from his hand and gave it to Haman son of Hammedatha the Agagite, the enemy of the Jews. The king said to Haman, “The money is given to you, and the people as well, to do with them as it seems good to you.” Then the king’s secretaries were summoned on the thirteenth day of the first month, and an edict, according to all that Haman commanded, was written to the king’s satraps and to the governors over all the provinces and to the officials of all the peoples, to every province in its own script and every people in its own language; it was written in the name of King Ahasuerus and sealed with the king’s ring. Letters were sent by couriers to all the king’s provinces, giving orders to destroy, to kill, and to annihilate all Jews, young and old, women and children, in one day, the thirteenth day of the twelfth month, which is the month of Adar, and to plunder their goods. A copy of the document was to be issued as a decree in every province by proclamation, calling on all the peoples to be ready for that day. The couriers went quickly by order of the king, and the decree was issued in the citadel of Susa. The king and Haman sat down to drink; but the city of Susa was thrown into confusion.

Cruella is the latest villain origin story. Apparently, the evil star of 101 Dalmatians, Cruella de Vil, with her spotted fur coat and two-tone hairdo, has reasons for being the way she is. The Joker, Batman’s nemesis, got a movie explaining why he is misunderstood. Broadway’s Wicked unmelts the legend of the Wicked Witch of the West (Stephanie Zacharek, Time, June 7, 2021, 100). If any of the movies about Queen Esther had been any good, we could have gotten an origin story for the villain Haman, but, sadly, the movies about Esther are not good. In 1960’s Esther and The King—which has a 40 on Rotten Tomatoes—Joan Collins, the star of Dynasty, is Esther. Joan Collins, who was born in England and is not Jewish at all, is Esther. In 2001’s Esther: A Veggie Tales Cartoon, Esther is played by what appears to be a green onion, but could be a thin cucumber. 2007’s movie about Esther had a $20 million budget. They spent most of the money on Peter O’Toole and Omar Sharif, and the rest on a hunk to play the king, donkeys, camels, and revealing costumes. Peter O’Toole plays Samuel, who is not in the Book of Esther, so he is on screen for less than a minute. Omar Sharif, who is from Egypt, which is close, plays Prince Memucan, who is in Esther, but the movie still scored a 19 on the tomatometer. The critics were not kind to One Night with The King, accusing the filmmakers of stiff storytelling and bland dialogue. One review begins: “Dear Lord, why must your most ardent followers unleash such bad movies in your name? Surely, as our Creator, you wish for us to have better entertainment than the cut-rate fare that passes for faith-based film. Please hear the prayers of religious film producers, who are beseeching you for better scripts, larger budgets, and bigger audiences. Surely Lord, moviegoers would be thankful if next time you inspired more talented people to take on one of your most beloved stories” (Josh Bell, “Dear Lord,” Las Vegas Weekly, October 12, 2006). It is hard to understand why these movies are so bad. The Book of Esther has sex, violence, and revenge. Mordecai and Haman are Aaron Burr and Alexander Hamilton, Muhammad Ali and Joe Frazier, Tonya Harding and Nancy Kerrigan, and those rivalries made great theater. Mordecai sees it coming. He tells Esther not to mention her Jewish identity, but Mordecai is not so careful. After his adopted daughter becomes queen, Mordecai is “sitting at the king’s gate” (2:21). Maybe Esther got him a job there. Two guards have it in for the king and Mordecai is in the right place at the right time. They do not know that Mordecai is related to the first lady, so they let it slip that they are planning to assassinate Ahasuerus. Mordecai tells Esther who tells the king who hangs the men who should have kept their mouths shut. About the same time, the king promotes Haman to second in command. At Haman’s urging, Ahasuerus decrees that everyone has to bow before his grand vizier. Haman loves being a big-shot, loves the bowing and kneeling, and loves knowing that people are trying not to stare. That is why Mordecai drives him crazy. When the vizier comes prancing by, Mordecai refuses to grovel in the dust like everybody else. Mordecai is not impressed with VIPs, does not care for celebrities, and will not bow down to rich people. When Haman’s crew asks Mordecai why he is disrespecting their boss, Mordecai says, “I’m a Jew.” He will not pay homage to anyone but God. They speak to Mordecai about it several times, but he continues to be disagreeable. Finally they go to Haman to see if anything can be done. Haman is a raging anti-Semite. He thinks about taking out his anger on Mordecai, but decides that is not enough. It is not just Mordecai who is disagreeable. Haman thinks all Jews are disagreeable. 24 centuries before Hitler, Haman has his own “final solution.” Haman throws the pur—the ancient equivalent of a magic eight-ball—to pick the day on which to exterminate the Jews. Haman sets the trap by appealing to the king’s vanity: “Your majesty, you have some subjects who aren’t loyal. I’m such a loyal subject that I don’t want you to have to put up with such insolence. Persia is crawling with these people. They don’t fit in. They break our laws. Their ways are different from ours. The only thing to do is exterminate the whole pack of them. Just give the word and they’ll be destroyed. I’ll not only cover the expense, but will donate several wheel barrows full of silver to the treasury for the privilege.” The king learned from Queen Vashti that he does not care for insolence, so without thinking much he goes along. Bulletins are posted everywhere ordering the massacre of all Jews—men, women and children—on a single day. Ahasuerus does not bother to find out why Haman hates Jews. The king does not even ask the identity of the people whose death warrant he is signing. The partners in crime sit on the balcony toasting their scheme, while Esther’s people are terrified. When Ahasuerus is called by the more common version of his name, Xerxes is the only person in the Bible whose name begins with an X. There is not much else you can say for him. Ahasuerus is a buffoon, a hothead, and a showoff. We want to like Ahasuerus because he is married to the heroine, but he is lazy and self-indulgent (Colin Sedgwick, “God is Working His Purpose Out,” Expository Times, 114, 2003, 381-382). Haman is evil. He lies to the king to carry out his plan for genocide. Ethnic cleansing is not a new idea. Haman hates the Jews, because they are different. The positive way to interpret Mordecai’s refusal to bow before this enemy of God’s people is that Mordecai believes he should not bow to anyone but God. The other possibility is that Mordecai does not like Haman any more than Haman likes Mordecai (Iain Duguid, “The Eschatology of the Book of Esther,” Westminster Theological Journal, 68, 2006, 86-90). We could argue that it was not smart for Mordecai not to bow before Haman. The Jews would not have been in danger if it had not been for Mordecai. How do we know when we need to let our disagreements go? How do we respond to others’ negativity? How do we keep our distance from poison? We want our lives to be about doing well and feeling mildly euphoric most of the time, and being a do-gooder, loved and admired by everyone, and when we are not universally adored, we are disappointed. Most of us do not enjoy not getting along, but we can imagine what Mordecai and Haman feel for one another. We have competitors who do not give us the respect we deserve, neighbors who think they are better than anyone else, and co-workers who take the best bagels—even though they never bring bagels. When we see that we have a text from someone who is not in our contacts, we think of people we hope it is not from. When we go to a party, we hope some people do not get invited. We do not love some people the least little bit—the relatives who are forever messing up their own lives and complicating ours in the process, the boss who does not understand that working from home is work, and the know-it-all who puts down our ideas. We do not want to love our enemies. We get mileage out of looking down on them. They make us feel superior. Jonathan Swift said, “We have just enough religion to make us hate, but not enough to make us love.” Someone says something mean that gets back to us. Our choices seem to be challenging or ignoring them, but there are other possibilities. Say something good about them. They will hear about it. Jesus suggested, “Bless those who curse you.” An old friend is forever putting us to sleep with stories about how great she is. Our choices seem to be insulting her or being bored out of our mind. We could, however, tell our own story about her greatness. That will confuse her. Our favorite person in all of the world breaks a promise. Our choices seem to be confronting our beloved or acting like we have chosen to overlook it. We could, however, cover up their mistake, so they never know that we know. Mature people do not worry much about correcting others. We learn to be okay with people not hearing our side of the story. We learn that being right is often less important than being generous. We get into an argument at church. It happens. We are sure we are right, but we are too busy arguing to think about how we might also be a little wrong. Being committed to what we think does not mean we should wear it like a chip on our shoulder, being easily offended, and quick to see the faults in others. From time to time my spiritual director, a Franciscan monk, recommends a book. Early on he had me read eight books on St. Francis. Last month Father Joseph suggested I read a book by a psychology professor— Neurotic Styles by David Shapiro. It is a clinical study of obsessive-compulsive, paranoid, hysterical, and impulsive personalities. I read the first 50 pages assuming that he was trying to help me know how to relate to people who might be neurotic. Then it occurred to me that he did not say why he suggested the book. Maybe it is me he is hoping I’ll understand. Is he suggesting I am compulsive? I have been reading differently since I started thinking about my shortcomings instead of looking for others’ faults. I was serving as the minister at a rural church in Indiana—farmers and factory workers. Ken Chafin, a well-known seminary professor, came and preached for us. Afterwards, I said, “You had a genuine rapport with our congregation. Your education could have been an obstacle, but it wasn’t.” He said, “I don’t ever preach without recognizing that some of the people listening are more Christian than I am. They love God more than I do.” Some of the people to whom we feel superior love God more than we do. Isaac Bashevis Singer said, “Kindness, I’ve discovered, is everything in life.” We have opportunities to choose kindness every day. When we practice letting go of our grievances, we become freer from the bitterness and sadness that surround us. When we put ourselves in someone else’s shoes, we narrow the chasm of misunderstanding between us. Even when we do not understand another’s motives, kindness allows what seems strange to remain strange without costing us our peace. God know the times we messed up, chose the easy way out, or hurt those closest to us, and God keeps loving us. What would have happened if Mordecai and Haman had listened to one another? What if Haman asked himself, “What does it feel like when Mordecai and his relatives have to bow down to someone like me?” Did Haman ever think about what it means to be Jewish? What would have happened if Mordecai asked himself, “What does it feel like when Haman, the second most important person in the country, sees everyone salute except for me? One of Mordecai’s ancestors, King Saul, slaughtered a city of Haman’s ancestors. Did Mordecai ever think about whether that was part of Haman’s anger? What do we see when we look carefully at one another? If we slow down enough to understand what another person is dealing with, we often find that they are doing about as well as they can, that there are reasons they are the way they are. The truth is that everyone has a story of their own pain and cowardice. The person who hurts others usually has a history of being hurt themselves. If we look into the eyes of someone who does not care for us, we may understand the pain that makes them so disagreeable. If we look into the eyes of someone who keeps making bad decisions, we will try to encourage them. If we look into the eyes of someone who disagrees with us on almost everything, but who loves God more than we do, we may have to rethink some of our opinions. If we look into the eyes of a lonely person, we will listen. If we look into the eyes of a broken person, we will want them to feel God’s love. If we look into the eyes of someone we do not like, we will see someone God loves.