Expecting miracles

Today's discussion at the ministers fellowship centred around our expectation of hearing God's guidance and seeing God at work. One of the prayers at the end was especially appropriate for me - "we reach a stage in ministry when we can do most things adequately in our own strength." That's where I am. I get the job done, sometimes on time, and usually to a satisfactory standard (at least by my own reckoning). But is that ministry? Shouldn't I be stepping out in faith and tackling the kind of things where I need to rely fully on God?

My prayer at this moment is that God will open my ears and my mind and my heart so that I am alert for any little promptings from him. I could make this a kind of game or puzzle: the clues are all around me, but which of them is the genuine voice of God? What's he wanting me to do? How is he wanting me to live? And if I can't answer with any certainty, what's my best guess? Lord, help me to fine-tune my heart so that it receives loud and clear the wavelength of your Spirit.

ABR#11 Esther

I have begun to read the Bible alphabetically (see here for my rationale), reading each book at least three times (in this case four, one of them the extended version found in the apocrypha) and trying to get into the mind of the original author and readers as well as listen to God’s message for today. Here’s what I’ve discovered from reading Esther.

This is basically a self-contained story about the interplay between hero, heroine and villain within a wider context of the survival of an ethnic minority in a great empire. The plot has some nice twists and turns. The villain gets his come-uppance. In fact it would be a very satisfying story if it were not for two elements which jar on our modern sensibilities. It begins with a husband clamping down on his wife’s independence and it ends with the gleeful slaughter of thousands.

What’s going on?

King Xerxes (or Ahasuerus) rules a vast empire. His queen refuses to attend a feast, so for her disobedience he banishes her forever from his presence. Many beautiful girls join the harem and the king falls for Esther, an orphaned girl raised by her cousin Mordecai, and makes her the new queen. Mordecai, a Jew, uncovers a plot against the king and reports it via Esther. Later Xerxes promotes Haman to high position. Haman is so angered by Mordecai’s lack of respect that he persuades the king to let him rid his empire of certain troublesome people (the Jews) by setting a date for their slaughter. Mordecai persuades Esther to appeal to the king despite the sentence of death for any who approach the king uninvited. Xerxes spares Esther and she invites him and Haman to a banquet. She invites them to a second banquet the following day. Haman’s mood is soured when he sees Mordecai and he builds a gallows intending to ask the king for permission to hang Mordecai. Meanwhile Xerxes comes across the old record of the plot uncovered by Mordecai and decides to reward him. He asks Haman’s advice and in an ironic twist Haman is instructed to honour Mordecai by leading him around the city dressed as a king. That evening at the second banquet, Esther reveals Haman’s plot to exterminate the Jews. Xerxes is furious and Haman is hanged on his own gallows. Esther again pleads for her people and the king gives Mordecai permission to set things right. The Jews are instructed to defend themselves against their enemies and on the appointed day they kill many enemies in Susa and across the empire. The feast of Purim is instituted to commemorate their salvation.

Intentional or not there are some comical moments in Esther: all the male advisors panicking over the prospect of their own wives following the queen’s example of asserting her independence; the irony of Haman having to show public honour to his moral enemy; Xerxes mistaking Haman’s abject grovelling for attempted rape; perhaps even the ridiculous height of the gallows was included for its comic potential. Anyone who can’t get a few laughs out of a retelling of this story must have poor narrative skills.

Where is God?

Although there is no specific reference to God or prayer or anything overtly religious, there is the unspoken assumption that the Jews are God’s people and live by his laws. For example, Mordecai refusing to bow to Haman may be an expression of his desire to worship one God alone and no human upstart. The closest the book comes to any theological insight is when Mordecai is trying to persuade Esther to plead with the king on behalf of her race. “If you keep quiet, help will come from some other quarter.” In other words, God will intervene even if you don’t. But (Mordecai explains), his help will save the Jewish race as a whole. Your family branch of this race will die off. “Who knows?” he concludes, “maybe it was for this time that you became queen.” Mordecai recognises that there is such a thing as a divine plan – the right person in the right place at the right time. He even speculates that Esther is such a person, but he puts it as a question rather than a statement. He would not presume to know for sure what God’s plans were.

Why did Haman start his villainous plan by casting lots to determine the date of execution? There seems little point in choosing a random date (especially when the date was then so widely publicised) so did he believe he was allowing some kind of ‘higher power’ to influence the choice of date? In which case he presumably saw himself as an instrument of the (Persian?) gods in purging the land of the foreigners with their strange rituals and their strange God.

David Pawson says that the name of God is hidden as an acrostic four times in the book of Esther sometimes forward (YHWH) sometimes backwards (HWHY) sometimes at the beginning of words and sometimes at the end. My rough calculations show that such hidden names are improbable (a one in 400 chance) but not ridiculously so. Add to this the fact that I could only fully verify two instances in my Hebrew interlinear Bible and the whole issue seems inconclusive. Was it by chance? Or did the author deliberately throw in a few acrostics? I’m not convinced either way.

There is a longer version of Esther in the Apocrypha which contains extra passages. These are very obviously the attempts of a later editor to introduce explanations and embellishments into the story, and to make sure God gets mentioned – for example, Mordecai’s dream foretelling the danger; his and Esther’s prayers as they fast; an expanded version of Esther’s unannounced approach to the king; the second edict sent out by the king; Mordecai’s interpretation of his dream.

What’s the Point?

One obvious intention of the original author was simply to record the reason for the annual celebration of Purim. The reason he fails to mention God (or possibly hides his reference as an acrostic) is less certain. Maybe it was unsafe to write overtly of the Jewish God. Maybe he thought he could make his point more subtly through a good story. I presume the reason this book has been retained in the canon of Scripture is that it shows clearly how the history of individuals and nations are steered (via a combination of courageous decisions and apparent co-incidences) by the hidden hand of God for the benefit of his people.

Quirks, questions and curiosities:

It is only in later parts of the Bible that the word ‘Jews’ starts to be used. They are no longer a tribe (Abraham’s extended family / the people of Israel) or even a nation (Israel, Judah, Ephraim) but an ethnic group scattered across a wide empire.

It was obviously a custom in those days to seek advice from others. The king regularly does it – for example over the disobedience of Queen Vashti, or the manner of rewarding Mordecai. Esther takes advices from Mordecai and Hegai (the eunuch in charge of beauty treatment). Haman consults Zeresh (his wife) and his friends. It is only when the king relies on one person’s bad advice that all the trouble starts. The moral? Before a big decision consult widely and don’t rely on one person’s opinion.

The time-scale is not all that urgent. There is a full eleven months between the proclamation that the Jews are to be exterminated and the date of the extermination. It takes just over two months for the danger to be averted and the second proclamation (that Jews can destroy their enemies instead) to be issued. God does not always keep us in suspense until the last minute.

Haman plays on the king’s fears in terms that sound shamefully modern: “They come to our country (never mind that they were exiled from their own land as captive slaves), they bring their funny ways with them, they infiltrate every part of our great empire, they are obviously a threat to our well-being, so let me get rid of them for you and I can guarantee a boost to our economy, with huge profits poured into the government coffers.”

When Esther approached the king uninvited it seems she had to hang around in the courtyard (where it was death to be found) and it was only because the enthroned Xerxes spotted her through the open door and waved his sceptre at her that she was allowed to live. This scenario (if I’ve understood correctly) does emphasise the great risk Esther took. If the palace guards took their orders seriously she could easily have been captured and killed without the king even noticing her predicament.

The height of the gallows (50 cubits) is about the same as a six-storey building. (Taller than the Parthenon, Cleoptra’s Needle or the Arch of Constantine in Rome.) Haman is clearly wanting his victim to be visible. But how did they get the person up there? Commercial ladders would only reach one third of the distance. Today you’d have to call out the fire and rescue service to reach that height.

After the second proclamation (that the Jews could defend themselves against enemy attack), many became Jews out of fear. This is not the best motive for conversion to a different way of life.

If I were to look for mitigating factors in the slaughter at the end of the book, I could point out that the Jews restricted themselves to killing their enemies and there was no looting. Even in Susa where a second day was needed to finish the killing, the Jews were only interested in defending themselves rather than (as Haman wanted to do) seizing wealth and making a profit. Also it may be worth noting that each year the feast of Purim was held on the anniversary not of the slaughter itself, but of the celebrations held the following day. Admittedly this is splitting some rather fine hairs: the commemoration of revelling in the destruction of one’s enemies is not much of an improvement on the commemoration of the destruction itself. In the end I have to see this as a story in which both God and human beings make their influence felt. And it is the latter whose actions bring death and destruction.

Houses come first. That is the law.

After a lull in my active appreciation of Tolkien, I've been inspired to read again some of his shorter works as an introduction to tackling his major stories once more. This inspiration has come in the form of a series of podcasts by Corey Olsen (The Tolkien Professor) which I highly recommend.

Listening to his analysis of Leaf by Niggle I had my preconceptions overturned. Niggle is an amateur painter, trying to finish a huge work on a large canvas. He is not a particularly good painter although he does manage to capture well the essence of an individual leaf (hence the title of the story). An Inspector of Houses calls to say that his neighbour's house is in a dangerous state of repair and suggests that it is his duty to use the canvas to patch the hole in the roof. Niggle is horrified - "My picture!" - but the Inspector replies, "I dare say it is, but houses come first. That is the law."

My first reaction to this was to take Niggle's side. How dare this bureaucratic Philistine consider using art as mere building material! But the later part of the story makes it clear that the Inspector was more right than he was wrong. Before this conversation is over Niggle has to go on his journey (which he was always aware of, but never found time to prepare for) and ends up in the workhouse doing odd jobs.

Leaf by Niggle has some strong allegorical elements. Clearly the journey symbolises death and equally clearly the workhouse represents the Catholic understanding of purgatory. It is the place where people who are due to go to heaven are 'purged' and made ready for that transition. The purging (or 'treatment' as it is called in the story) initially consists of Niggle undertaking carpentry jobs around the place, patching and mending the premises. In other words, he is making up for the things he should have done before he was forced on his journey.

"Houses come first" is not simply about buildings, but about the safety and welfare of one's neighbours. The law of the land was very clear about priorities. Niggle's desire to create something beautiful and meaningful was not a sufficient excuse for neglecting the practical needs of his neighbour. I am reminded of that scene in Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade where Indy is awed to discover the resting place of a long dead knight. But when the deadly flames are fast approaching he doesn't hesitate for one second - he metaphorically casts aside all his archeological instincts, and literally casts aside the skeleton of the knight, so that he can use the upturned stone sarcophagus as a protection from fire. The preservation of life outweighs the preservation of precious artefacts. In a less dramatic way Niggle was supposed to give preference to his suffering neighbour over his own creative hopes.

This is fiction. Moving to the realm of non-fiction, the Bible tells us "Love your neighbour as yourself." This is the law. We have an obligation to those around us. Their welfare is our concern. Like Niggle I would love to be told not to worry about everyday work and allowed to get on with doing all the things I like to do. Such as listening to podcasts about Tolkien. I've often thought (and preached) that God wants us to live life to the full and to enjoy this wonderful world that he's given us. Which means that we should take time to appreciate creation, and even to engage in what Tolkien calls 'sub-creation' - bringing into being (through whatever medium we work best in) something new and beautiful which enhances the created order. Writing a blog would count (in a modest way) as an act of sub-creation in this sense. BUT. And it's an important 'but'. This should not be at the expense of caring for our neighbour.

In reflecting on this aspect of Leaf by Niggle, I have heard God reminding me of my own priorities. People first. Caring for my neighbour first. Being passionate about the well-being of those around me first. And creativity second.

And for those who haven't read the story, let me reassure you it does have a happy ending. Niggle ends up being creative in ways that he never imagined. And the picture he had to leave unfinished? Well, he gets chance to work on it in a quite different form and it becomes a great blessing to many people.