The scroll of Esther that we will read on Purim may have been the original inspiration for the old joke about Jewish holidays: “They tried to kill us. We won. Let’s eat.” So says my good friend, Herb.
Around 400 BCE the mightiest ruler of his times, King Ahasuerus, governed the world from Ethiopia to India. Influenced by Haman, an evil Amalekite adviser, the king condemned us to death. But we were saved by Esther, a slip of a girl, probably a teenager, who beguiled the king with her beauty; her promotion from commoner to queen gave us a high-ranking advocate.
Behind her — counseling, strategizing — was her cousin, Mordechai. The king owes a huge debt to Mordechai, who has uncovered a coup and conspiracy against Ahasuerus.
So, Esther, having won the king’s favor, tells him of Haman’s slanders against her people and reveals that this Persian Hitler plans genocide. Only at the end of her campaign does she reveal her Jewish identity to the king.
Initially, she approached the king uninvited. She risks her life for her people. She reminds him of her cousin’s services to the throne. The Jews are saved. Haman and his supporters are hung on the very gallows constructed for Mordechai and his people. Ominously, we should remember the Persia of the scroll of Esther is the Iran of today.
Interestingly, God is never mentioned in the scroll of Esther, an omission that has long puzzled rabbis and bible scholars. Earlier in Exodus and other biblical books, the Israelites repeatedly call on Him, but not in the Book of Esther. Esther and Mordechai (perhaps inspired and guided by Him) do the heavy lifting. It demonstrates the very heartbeat of Judaism. First we do our best — then we pray to ask God for his miraculous intervention. If your neighbor is sick, say our rabbis, first bring her a bowl of soup — then pray for her recovery.
The cast:
Esther: Our deliverer. A feminine messiah, so to speak. Beautiful and charming. The queen who risked her life for her people.
Ahasuerus: The conqueror of empires, king of the world from Ethiopia to India, who is in turn conquered by the beauty of Esther.
Haman: Adviser to Ahasuerus. Direct descendent of the Amalekites and role model to Heinrich Himmler.
Mordechai: Cousin to Esther. Strategist and architect of the campaign to save Persian Jewry.
Hatach: A kindly court official who carries letters between Esther and Mordechai.
Zeresh: Haman’s wife; not a winner. If Esther’s a 10, she’s a 1 — lucky to be married, even to Haman.
Bigtan/Teresh: Treasonous court officials who plotted to kill the King. Instead, their schemes are uncovered by Mordechai.
Hegai: “Keeper of Women” says the scroll, meaning that he managed the King’s harem. “Well, somebody’s gotta do it,” he comically explained to his envious friends in the bars of Shushan.
The story:
That Esther, she is one of the great triumvirate of Jewish heroines. Her two sister heroines are, who else? Yael and Judith. The latter two you’ll recall, dispatch two of Israel’s enemies to that special Gehenna, or Hell, where Amalekites sing “Hatikvah” on our holidays.
But Esther — ah, there’s a woman of subtlety as well as valor. She’s behind the scenes, orchestrating, scheming, directing. Totally invisible to her antagonists, she’s the ghostess with the mostest, you might say.
Once Cousin Mordechai alerts her to the peril facing her people, she swings into action. Two lavish banquets — not one, but two — she throws for the king, and Haman, of all people. It’s the first Purim oneg. And although the Megillah does not spell out the menu, I’m sure Esther laid out a nice spread with plenty of Persian slivovitz followed by platters of those crisp, little, layered honey cakes. Maybe even lox, if she could grab a salmon out of the Tigris River.
Esther’s eyes caress the king — those succulent cakes melt in his mouth. They’re eating high on the challah, so to speak. Haman’s at the party, too — the quintessential Amalekite — Hitler, in a warp of time. He sits in a corner daydreaming of the gibbet for the Jew, Mordechai. Over in a corner, Esther and the king are having a serious conversation. Esther, the supplicant, pleads with the king for her people, Israel, as she fantasizes a special Hell for Haman in which he eternally grates potatoes for the latkes of all Chanukahs yet to come. She gazes soulfully at the monarch like he’s a huge honey cake. In the background, we can almost hear a silvery “Taps” — with a klezmer lilt — for Haman the Amalekite.
My good friend, Herb, loves to hear this Megillah. As I say, he’s a Purim regular. There he is — every year with his own grogger — just like the Minyan Club members have their own tallit and tefillin. And he’s carrying one of those neat, silvery hip flasks just to make sure he obeys the talmudic injunction to be sufficiently zonked so he can’t tell Haman from Mordechai.
Well, I love Purim as much as Herb. On what other holiday can you make obnoxious noises and talk more than the rabbi without being shushed? I guess, like Herb, I’m a Purim Jew.
Ted Roberts is a humorist based in Huntsville, Ala.