The Jews struck down all their enemies with the sword, killing and destroying them, and they did what they pleased to those who hated them. In the citadel of Susa, the Jews killed and destroyed five hundred men. Esther 9:6
The Jewish festival of Purim (Esther 9:26) celebrates the deliverance of the Jewish people in Persia, some 500 years before Christ, from the evil plans of Haman. I’ve never experienced it myself, but I read that in synagogues even today “every time Haman’s name is mentioned in the Purim liturgy congregations respond with loud banging, shouting and stamping of feet, and ‘Haman’s hats’ (triangular cakes) are eaten...”.
Great fun, I’m sure. And nothing wrong with that.
But the reality at the time was pretty grim. Esther 9:6 tells us of the deaths of five hundred men in Susa. And a few verses further on (9:16) we read that, outside Susa, some seventy-five thousand people were killed. Mmm... this was a big-scale massacre, and it’s hard to read about it without something of the gloss coming off the story.
Two questions come to my mind...
First, how is this kind of whole-scale vengeance compatible with the spirit of Jesus?
The simple answer is: it isn’t. Jesus, the “prince of peace”, told his followers to “love your enemies”, and prayed “Father, forgive them” for the people who crucified him. So from a Christian perspective, the aftermath of the Haman plot leaves a slightly nasty taste in one’s mouth.
It’s true, of course, that if this hadn’t happened, the bulk of God’s Old Testament people would have been wiped out: it was a dog-eat-dog world, and even God’s chosen people couldn’t help but be a part of it. The coming of Jesus was still a long way off. But still...
It’s not for us to judge or condemn the Jews of Esther’s day - we must bow to the justice of God, trusting that he knows what he is doing throughout history, and be thankful that we live in the days since the earthly life of Jesus.
Thanks be to God, though, for the clear-cut command, “Do not take revenge... but leave room for God’s wrath...” (Romans 12:19).
(Is that text a direct word to someone reading this?)
How radically and wonderfully Jesus changes everything!
The second question puts a rather different slant on the Esther story: if God could raise up an Esther to influence King Xerxes, why not another “Esther” to influence Hitler and his people?
That question rattles around in my mind because I have recently been reading various books about the Nazi horror - and there’s no doubt that the more you learn the worse it gets.
There are those who would say that we shouldn’t even ask the question. You may be one of them - and, indeed, there’s a large part of me that feels the same way. Paul’s challenge haunts me: “Who are you, a human being, to talk back to God...?” (Romans 9:20). Who indeed?
And yet there is an honourable Bible record of people who did “talk back to God”. The “Why?” question crops up repeatedly in the psalms - for example, 10:1, 22:1 and 88:14. The remarkable book of Job is full of it. So is the little book of Habakkuk: “Why do you tolerate wrongdoing?” (1:3); “Why do you tolerate the treacherous? Why are you silent while the wicked swallow up those more righteous than themselves?” (1:13).
Supremely, of course, we have Jesus himself, who cried out on the cross, “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?” (Matthew 27:46).
It seems that God respects and honours those who, out of genuine anguish of heart, cry out to him in this way - always assuming, of course, that our hearts are humble and that our questioning reflects honest perplexity rather than rebellion.
We need to accept, too, that we’re not likely to receive an answer in any theoretical, intellectual sense. No, God does not offer to satisfy our curiosity, however genuine.
But the great thing is this: the honest questioner may very well get something far, far better than that - a whole new experience of the glory of God. Just contrast the endings of Job and Habakkuk with their beginnings! - in both cases a journey is made from confusion, frustration - even anger? - to radiant faith. Above all, contrast the glory of resurrection morning with the darkness of the crucifixion!
No, I don’t know why God acts in one way at one time, and in another way at another. I don’t know why he seems, from our perspective, to stand by while terrible things happen. But I do know this: that his ultimate purpose is to banish all evil from this beautiful world that he has made.
And when that day comes I suspect we will all want to say with Job: “I am unworthy. How can I reply to you? I put my hand over my mouth” (40:4).
Not a bad place for it, I think.
Lord God, your ways are shrouded in mystery, and the question “Why?” is often on our lips. Help me to be humble even if indignant, and submissive even if angry. And so bring me to that day when all my questionings will fade on my lips. Amen.
The Jewish festival of Purim (Esther 9:26) celebrates the deliverance of the Jewish people in Persia, some 500 years before Christ, from the evil plans of Haman. I’ve never experienced it myself, but I read that in synagogues even today “every time Haman’s name is mentioned in the Purim liturgy congregations respond with loud banging, shouting and stamping of feet, and ‘Haman’s hats’ (triangular cakes) are eaten...”.
Great fun, I’m sure. And nothing wrong with that.
But the reality at the time was pretty grim. Esther 9:6 tells us of the deaths of five hundred men in Susa. And a few verses further on (9:16) we read that, outside Susa, some seventy-five thousand people were killed. Mmm... this was a big-scale massacre, and it’s hard to read about it without something of the gloss coming off the story.
Two questions come to my mind...
First, how is this kind of whole-scale vengeance compatible with the spirit of Jesus?
The simple answer is: it isn’t. Jesus, the “prince of peace”, told his followers to “love your enemies”, and prayed “Father, forgive them” for the people who crucified him. So from a Christian perspective, the aftermath of the Haman plot leaves a slightly nasty taste in one’s mouth.
It’s true, of course, that if this hadn’t happened, the bulk of God’s Old Testament people would have been wiped out: it was a dog-eat-dog world, and even God’s chosen people couldn’t help but be a part of it. The coming of Jesus was still a long way off. But still...
It’s not for us to judge or condemn the Jews of Esther’s day - we must bow to the justice of God, trusting that he knows what he is doing throughout history, and be thankful that we live in the days since the earthly life of Jesus.
Thanks be to God, though, for the clear-cut command, “Do not take revenge... but leave room for God’s wrath...” (Romans 12:19).
(Is that text a direct word to someone reading this?)
How radically and wonderfully Jesus changes everything!
The second question puts a rather different slant on the Esther story: if God could raise up an Esther to influence King Xerxes, why not another “Esther” to influence Hitler and his people?
That question rattles around in my mind because I have recently been reading various books about the Nazi horror - and there’s no doubt that the more you learn the worse it gets.
There are those who would say that we shouldn’t even ask the question. You may be one of them - and, indeed, there’s a large part of me that feels the same way. Paul’s challenge haunts me: “Who are you, a human being, to talk back to God...?” (Romans 9:20). Who indeed?
And yet there is an honourable Bible record of people who did “talk back to God”. The “Why?” question crops up repeatedly in the psalms - for example, 10:1, 22:1 and 88:14. The remarkable book of Job is full of it. So is the little book of Habakkuk: “Why do you tolerate wrongdoing?” (1:3); “Why do you tolerate the treacherous? Why are you silent while the wicked swallow up those more righteous than themselves?” (1:13).
Supremely, of course, we have Jesus himself, who cried out on the cross, “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?” (Matthew 27:46).
It seems that God respects and honours those who, out of genuine anguish of heart, cry out to him in this way - always assuming, of course, that our hearts are humble and that our questioning reflects honest perplexity rather than rebellion.
We need to accept, too, that we’re not likely to receive an answer in any theoretical, intellectual sense. No, God does not offer to satisfy our curiosity, however genuine.
But the great thing is this: the honest questioner may very well get something far, far better than that - a whole new experience of the glory of God. Just contrast the endings of Job and Habakkuk with their beginnings! - in both cases a journey is made from confusion, frustration - even anger? - to radiant faith. Above all, contrast the glory of resurrection morning with the darkness of the crucifixion!
No, I don’t know why God acts in one way at one time, and in another way at another. I don’t know why he seems, from our perspective, to stand by while terrible things happen. But I do know this: that his ultimate purpose is to banish all evil from this beautiful world that he has made.
And when that day comes I suspect we will all want to say with Job: “I am unworthy. How can I reply to you? I put my hand over my mouth” (40:4).
Not a bad place for it, I think.
Lord God, your ways are shrouded in mystery, and the question “Why?” is often on our lips. Help me to be humble even if indignant, and submissive even if angry. And so bring me to that day when all my questionings will fade on my lips. Amen.
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