Queen of the Persians #4

Introduction

Thus far we have seen the writer of Esther setting the stage for the conflict, and it is here in this chapter that the conflict actually begins. In the aftermath of the discovery of an assassination plot, one that was embedded at high levels within the palace, the king reacts by circling his wagons tightly. But what he actually accomplishes, contrary to his expectations, is something that results in his deliverance from an unexpected direction. The plan worked . . . but it was not his plan.  

The Text

“After these things did king Ahasuerus promote Haman the son of Hammedatha the Agagite, and advanced him, and set his seat above all the princes that were with him. And all the king’s servants, that were in the king’s gate, bowed, and reverenced Haman: for the king had so commanded concerning him. But Mordecai bowed not, nor did him reverence . . . ” (Esther 3:1-15).

Summary of the Text

Immediately after the assassination plot was uncovered, the king promoted Haman the Agagite in a leapfrog fashion, over the top of all his other counselors (v. 1). This amounted to a constitutional dislocation. The king commanded that all bow and reverence Haman, and so everyone did, except for Mordecai (v. 2). Those in the king’s gate with Mordecai asked him why he was disobeying the king’s commandment (v. 3). As Haman would come and go, there were numerous occasions for this bowing, and so this questioning happened on a daily basis. But Mordecai as a Jew wouldn’t budge—so they went and told Haman about it (v. 4). When Haman saw what Mordecai was (not) doing, he was filled with wrath (v. 5). But dealing with Mordecai alone was radically insufficient—Haman determined to kill all of the Jews (v. 6). So Haman cast lots (Pur) to determine the fatal day (v. 7), and this was the twelfth year of the king’s reign, and the fifth year for Esther as queen. The fact that he selected the day before talking to the king indicates that he thought the king would be no obstacle. So Haman told the king about the Jews, saying that their laws were different, and that they did not obey the king’s law, and so they needed to be dealt with (v. 8). If the king is willing, let the royal troops do the bloody business, and Haman would then reimburse the king’s expenses (v. 9). So the king gave his signet ring to Haman the Agagite. “Do it,” he said. “No need to reimburse” (vv. 10-11). And so the scribes were summoned, and the proclamation, sealed with the king’s ring, went out across the entire empire (v. 12). The decree was that on a particular day, selected by lot, all living Jews, men, women and children, were to be slaughtered, and their possessions seized (v. 13). Every province was required to be in readiness for that day (v. 14). The decree was sent out, and was posted in Shushan first (v. 15). The king and Haman sat down to drink, quite pleased with themselves, but the whole city was perplexed—where did that come from (v. 15)?

The day of slaughter was selected by chance, by lot, but the people doing this had forgotten that there is no such thing as chance. “The lot is cast into the lap; But the whole disposing thereof is of the Lord” (Proverbs 16:33).

The Question of Bowing

Mordecai tells the king’s servants that he would not bow because he was a Jew, which means that this was a matter of conscience for him. But this was not because bowing is automatically a sin, only under certain conditions. As a form of honor to one of superior rank, it is entirely permissible. We can see this later on when Esther falls before the king’s feet (Est. 8:3). Context matters. Peter refuses to let Cornelius bow before him (Acts 10:25-26), and the angel in Revelation rejects John’s attempt to prostrate himself (Rev. 19:10). And after Mordecai grew great (Est. 10:2), it would not have been bad if he received the courtesy of a bow. But given what we can see of the megalomania of Haman, it is likely that what he wanted was an idolatrous adulation, perhaps even connected to his regalia, and which Mordecai would not give. 

A Fraught Relationship

One of the great themes of Scripture is the issue of civil distinction and/or disobedience. Pagan rulers identified themselves with the divine, making this kind of thinking difficult for pagans, if not impossible. But believers knew that rulers were just men, and that they could therefore sin.

Abraham departs from Ur of the Chaldees to worship God as a nomad. Moses leads all Israel out of Egypt in a grand display of civil disobedience. Gideon leads a revolt against their Midian rulers. David honors Saul, but refuses to cooperate with him. The schools of the prophets existed as a sort of standing counterweight to the will of the king. Jehoida overthrows the tyrant Athalia. And in our passage, Mordecai disregards the king’s commandment. This very long tradition—and these are just a few of many examples—continues into the New Testament.

In addition, in the post-apostolic period, unlike every other major world religion, the Christian faith rose to prominence in the teeth of resistance from the state—in the teeth of three centuries of opposition and persecution from the state. It should be therefore very easy for us as Christians to make the distinction between the city of man and the City of God. We have all the categories baked in.   

Actual Antisemitism and the Gospel

In the older portions of the Old Testament, the Israelites had enemies, and they had wars with them, but these conflicts could not be described as the result of anything like antisemitism at all. They were just enemies fighting, the way enemies do. David fought the Philistines and the Philistines fought David.

But in the book of Esther, we can see the broad outlines of an historical pattern beginning to emerge. Here the Jews were a religious minority scattered through an unbelieving empire, and they were suddenly scapegoated with an irrational hatred. We can see something pernicious taking shape here.

But at the same time, we also have to recognize there is an “antisemitism racket” out there, and so we must be careful in both directions. It is not antisemitism to believe that Jews are lost without Christ, and it is not antisemitism to differ with American foreign policy concerning Israel. It is antisemitism, seething angrily, to post comments online like you were Haman after a couple of beers.

So the problem is not that we feel an impulse to scapegoat a Jew. Our central difficulty is that we refuse to scapegoat the one perfect Jew that God offered for that exact purpose. Look to Him. See Him there, stricken, smitten, and afflicted—slain for our transgressions. He is the only lawful scapegoat. If we look anywhere else, all our unforgiven guilt will spiral down into a sink of unresolved hatreds. The choice is plain—stand up straight like Mordecai, or begin snarling like Haman.