_THE BOOK OF ESTHER: INTRODUCTORY._
There is a striking contrast between the high estimation in which the
Book of Esther is now cherished among the Jews and the slighting
treatment that is often meted out to it in the Christian Church.
According to the great Maimonides, though the Prophets and the
Hagiographa will pass away when the Messiah comes, this one book will
share with The Law in the honour of being retained. It is known as
"The Roll" _par excellence_, and the Jews have a proverb, "The
Prophets may fail, but not The Roll." The peculiar importance attached
to the book may be explained by its use in the Feast of Purim--the
festival which is supposed to commemorate the deliverance of the Jews
from the murderous designs of Haman, and their triumph over their
Gentile enemies--for it is then read through in the synagogue. On the
other hand, the grave doubts which were once felt by some of the Jews
have been retained and even strengthened in the Christian Church.
Esther was omitted from the Canon by some of the Oriental Fathers.
Luther, with the daring freedom he always manifested in pronouncing
sentence on the books of the Bible, after referring to the Second Book
of Maccabees, says, "I am so hostile to this book and that of Esther,
that I wish they did not exist; they are too Judaising, and contain
many heathenish improprieties." In our own day two classes of
objections have been raised.
The first is historical. By many the Book of Esther is regarded as a
fantastic romance; by some it is even relegated to the category of
astronomical myths; and by others it is considered to be a mystical
allegory. Even the most sober criticism is troubled at its contents.
There can be no question that the Ahasuerus (_Ahashverosh_) of Esther
is the well-known Xerxes of history, the invader of Greece who is
described in the pages of Herodotus. But then, it is asked, what room
have we for the story of Esther in the life of that monarch? His wife
was a cruel and superstitious woman, named Amestris. We cannot
identify her with Esther, because she was the daughter of one of the
Persian generals, and also because she was married to Xerxes many
years before the date of Esther's appearance on the scene. Two of her
sons accompanied the expedition to Greece, which must have preceded
the introduction of Esther to the harem. Moreover, it was contrary to
law for a Persian sovereign to take a wife except from his own family,
or from one of five noble families. Can Amestris be identified with
Vashti? If so, it is certain that she must have been restored to
favour, because Amestris held the queen's place in the later years of
Xerxes, when the uxorious monarch came more and more under her
influence. Esther, it is clear, can only have been a secondary wife in
the eyes of the law, whatever position she may have held for a season
in the court of the king. The predecessors of Xerxes had several
wives; our narrative makes it evident that Ahasuerus followed the
Oriental custom of keeping a large harem. To Esther, at best,
therefore, must be assigned the place of a favourite member of the
seraglio.
Then it is difficult to think that Esther would not have been
recognised as a Jewess by Haman, since the nationality of Mordecai,
whose relationship to her had not been hidden, was known in the city
of Susa. Moreover, the appalling massacre of "their enemies" by the
Jews, carried on in cold blood, and expressly including "women and
children," has been regarded as highly improbable. Finally, the whole
story is so well knit together, its successive incidents arrange
themselves so perfectly and lead up to the conclusion with such neat
precision, that it is not easy to assign it to the normal course of
events. We do not expect to meet with this sort of thing outside the
realm of fairy tales. Putting all these facts together, we must feel
that there is some force in the contention that the book is not
strictly historical.
But there is another side to the question. This book is marvellously
true to Persian manners. It is redolent of the atmosphere of the court
at Susa. Its accuracy in this respect has been traced down to the most
minute details. The character of Ahasuerus is drawn to the life; point
after point in it may be matched in the Xerxes of Herodotus. The
opening sentence of the book shows that it was written some time after
the date of the king in whose reign the story is set, because it
describes him in language only suited to a later period--"this is
Ahasuerus which reigned from India unto Ethiopia," etc. But the writer
could not have been far removed from the Persian period. The book
bears evidence of having been written in the heart of Persia, by a man
who was intimately acquainted with the scenery he described. There
seems to be some reason for believing in the substantial accuracy of
a narrative that is so true to life in these respects.
The simplest way out of the dilemma is to suppose that the story of
Esther stands upon a historical basis of fact, and that it has been
worked up into its present literary form by a Jew of later days who
was living in Persia, and who was perfectly familiar with the records
and traditions of the reign of Xerxes. It is only an unwarrantable, _a
priori_ theory that can be upset by our acceptance of this conclusion.
We have no right to demand that the Bible shall not contain anything
but what is strictly historical. The Book of Job has long been
accepted as a sublime poem, founded on fact perhaps, but owing its
chief value to the divinely inspired thoughts of its author. The Book
of Jonah is regarded by many cautious and devout readers as an
allegory replete with important lessons concerning a very ugly aspect
of Jewish selfishness. These two works are not the less valuable
because men are coming to understand that their places in the library
of the Hebrew Canon are not among the strict records of history. And
the Book of Esther need not be dishonoured when some room is allowed
for the play of the creative imagination of its author. In these days
of the theological novel we are scarcely in a position to object to
what may be thought to partake of the character of a romance, even if
it is found in the Bible. No one asks whether our Lord's parable of
the Prodigal Son was a true story of some Galilean family. The
Pilgrim's Progress has its mission, though it is not to be verified by
any authentic Annals of Elstow. It is rather pleasing than otherwise
to see that the compilers of the Jewish Canon were not prevented by
Providence from including a little anticipation of that work of the
imagination which has blossomed so abundantly in the highest and best
culture of our own day.
A much more serious objection is urged on religious and moral grounds.
It is indisputable that the book is not characterised by the pure and
lofty spirit that gives its stamp to most of the other contents of the
Bible. The absence of the name of God from its pages has been often
commented on. The Jews long ago recognised this fact, and they tried
to discover the sacred name in acrostic form at one or two places
where the initial letters of a group of words were found to spell it.
But quite apart from all such fantastic trifling, it has been
customary to argue that, though unnamed, the presence of God is felt
throughout the story in the wonderful Providence that protects the
Jews and frustrates the designs of their arch-enemy Haman. The
difficulty, however, is wider and deeper. There is no reference to
religion, it is said, even where it is most called for; no reference
to prayer in the hour of danger, when prayer should have been the
first resource of a devout soul; in fact no indication of devoutness
of thought or conduct. Mordecai fasts; we are not told that he prays.
The whole narrative is immersed in a secular atmosphere. The religious
character of apocryphal additions that were inserted by later hands is
a tacit witness to a deficiency felt by pious Jews.
These charges have been met by the hypothesis that the author found it
necessary to disguise his religious beliefs in a work that was to come
under the eyes of heathen readers. Still we cannot imagine that an
Isaiah or an Ezra would have treated his subject in the style of our
author. It must be admitted that we have a composition on a lower
plane than that of the prophetic and priestly histories of Israel. The
theory that all parts of the Bible are inspired with an equal measure
of the Divine Spirit halts at this point. But what was to prevent a
composition analogous to secular literature taking its place in the
Hebrew Scriptures? Have we any evidence that the obscure scribes who
arranged the Canon were infallibly inspired to include only devotional
works? It is plain that the Book of Esther was valued on national
rather than on religious grounds. The Feast of Purim was a social and
national occasion of rejoicing, not a solemn religious ceremony like
the Passover; and this document obtains its place of honour through
its connection with the feast. The book, then, stands to the Hebrew
Psalms somewhat as Macaulay's ballad of the Armada stands to the hymns
of Watts and the Wesleys. It is mainly patriotic rather than
religious; its purpose is to stir the soul of national enthusiasm
through the long ages of the oppression of Israel.
It is not just, however, to assert that there are no evidences of
religious faith in the story of Esther. Mordecai warns his cousin that
if she will not exert herself to defend her people, "then shall there
relief and deliverance arise to the Jews _from another place_."[260]
What can this be but a reserved utterance of a devout man's faith in
that Providence which has always followed the "favoured people"?
Moreover, Mordecai seems to perceive a Divine destiny in the
exaltation of Esther when he asks, "And who knoweth whether thou art
come to the kingdom for such a time as this?"[261] The old
commentators were not wrong when they saw the hand of Providence in
the whole story. If we are to allow some licence to the imagination of
the author in the shaping and arrangement of the narrative, we must
assign to him also a real faith in Providence, for he describes a
wonderful interlinking of events all leading up to the deliverance of
the Jews. Long before Haman has any quarrel with Mordecai, the
disgusting degradation of a drinking bout issues in an insult offered
to a favourite queen. This shameful occurrence is the occasion of the
selection of a Jewess, whose high position at court thus acquired
enables her to save her people. But there is a secondary plot.
Mordecai's discovery of the conspirators who would have assassinated
Ahasuerus gives him a claim on the king's generosity, and so prepares
the way, not only for his escape from the clutches of Haman, but also
for his triumph over his enemy. And this is brought about--as we
should say--"by accident." If Xerxes had not had a sleepless night
just at the right time, if the part of his state records selected for
reading to him in his wakefulness had not been just that which told
the story of Mordecai's great service, the occasion for the turn in
the tide of the fortune of the Jews would not have arisen. But all was
so fitted together as to lead step by step on to the victorious
conclusion. No Jew could have penned such a story as this without
having intended his co-religionists to recognise the unseen presence
of an over-ruling Providence throughout the whole course of events.
[260] Esther iv. 14.
[261] _Ibid._
But the gravest charge has yet to be considered. It is urged against
the Book of Esther that the moral tone of it is unworthy of Scripture.
It is dedicated to nothing higher than the exaltation of the Jews.
Other books of the Bible reveal God as the Supreme, and the Jews as
His servants, often His unworthy and unfaithful servants. This book
sets the Jews in the first place; and Providence, even if tacitly
recognised, is quite subservient to their welfare. Israel does not
here appear as living for the glory of God, but all history works for
the glory of Israel. In accordance with the spirit of the story,
everything that opposes the Jews is condemned, everything that favours
them is honoured. Worst of all, this practical deification of Israel
permits a tone of heartless cruelty. The doctrine of separatism is
monstrously exaggerated. The Jews are seen to be surrounded by their
"enemies." Haman, the chief of them, is not only punished as he richly
deserves to be punished, but he is made the recipient of unrestrained
scorn and rage, and his sons are impaled on their father's huge stake.
The Jews defend themselves from threatened massacre by a legalised
slaughter of their "enemies." We cannot imagine a scene more foreign
to the patience and gentleness inculcated by our Lord. Yet we must
remember that the quarrel did not begin with the Jews; or if we must
see the origin of it in the pride of a Jew, we must recollect that his
offence was slight and only the act of one man. As far as the
narrative shows, the Jews were engaged in their peaceable occupations
when they were threatened with extinction by a violent outburst of the
mad _Judenhetze_ that has pursued this unhappy people through all the
centuries of history. In the first instance, their act of vengeance
was a measure of self-defence. If they fell upon their enemies with
fierce anger, it was after an order of extermination had driven them
to bay. If they indulged in a wholesale bloodshed, not even sparing
women or children, exactly the same doom had been hanging over their
own heads, and their own wives and children had been included in its
ferocious sentence. This fact does not excuse the savagery of the
action of the Jews; but it amply accounts for their conduct. They were
wild with terror, and they defended their homes with the fury of
madmen. Their action did not go beyond the prayer of the Psalmist who
wrote, in trim metrical order, concerning the hated Babylon--
"Happy shall he be, that taketh and dasheth thy little ones
Against the rock."[262]
[262] Psalm cxxxvii. 9.
It is more difficult to account for the responsible part taken by
Mordecai and Esther in begging permission for this awful massacre. The
last pages of the Book of Esther reek with blood. A whole empire is
converted into shambles for human slaughter. We turn with loathing
from this gigantic horror, glad to take refuge in the hope that the
author has dipped his brush in darker colours than the real events
would warrant. Nevertheless such a massacre as this is unhappily not
at all beyond the known facts of history on other occasions--not in
its extent; the means by which it is here carried out are doubtless
exceptional. Xerxes himself was so heartless and so capricious that
any act of folly or wickedness could be credited of him.
After all that can be said for it, clearly this Book of Esther cannot
claim the veneration that we attach to the more choice utterances of
Old Testament literature. It never lifts us with the inspiration of
prophecy; it never commands the reverence which we feel in studying
the historical books. Yet we must not therefore assume that it has not
its use. It illustrates an important phase in the development of
Jewish life and thought. It also introduces us to characters and
incidents that reveal human nature in very various lights. To
contemplate such a revelation should not be without profit. After the
Bible, what book should we regard as, on the whole, most serviceable
for our enlightenment and nurture? Since next to the knowledge of God
the knowledge of man is most important, might we not assign this
second place of honour to the works of Shakespeare rather than to any
theological treatise? And if so may we not be grateful that something
after the order of a Shakespearian revelation of man is contained even
in one book of the Bible?
It may be best to treat a book of this character in a different manner
from the weighty historical work that precedes it, and, instead of
expounding its chapters seriatim, to gather up its lessons in a series
of brief character studies.