Sermon Title: "Esther...Continued"
Date: May 2, 2010
Minister:  The Rev. Susan Bjork

Lesson:  Esther 4:5-17

In many ways, the tale of Esther is a kind of melodrama (which is why it lends itself so well to the stage).  If you were here last week to experience the wonderful children’s musical, “Malice in the Palace,” you know what I’m talking about. 

When we view the story of Esther from a literary perspective, we see that it thrives not only on its dramatic plot, but also that its success as a captivating story relies on its exaggerated characters: 

The king is a capricious, eccentric, bumbling buffoon who spends his time throwing parties and relishing in the luxury of palace life. 

Haman is egotistical, calculating, power-hungry, greedy, and violent…a classic villain. 

Mordecai is the wise yet strong-willed father figure whose refusal to bow down to Haman is a catalyst for the story’s primary conflict.  In some ways, Mordecai fulfills a sort of “Obi-Wan Kenobi wise-elder/Jedi knight” role.

And Esther is the girl from the “wrong side of the tracks” who keeps her identity hidden, but through her beauty wins the favor of the king and gets the chance to be queen.

Ultimately, Esther’s character develops the most under the pressure of an intensifying plot, as she finds herself, reveals her Jewish identity, and finds the strength and determination to become the heroine of the hour and save her people from annihilation.

The story of Esther is an archetypal tale of hope and as such has all the essentials of a blockbuster movie, complete with a happy ending, the triumph of the good, the fall of the villain, and the implied destruction of evil itself. 

For its original audience, the Israelites living in exile outside of Judea, the story of Esther was a story of hope in the face of experienced persecution and oppression.  For modern practitioners of Judaism, the story of Esther is the foundation for the yearly holiday of Purim which is all about hope and is celebrated joyously with a lively, melodramatic re-telling of Esther’s tale (that often includes hissing and noisemaking at the mention of Haman’s name), and much eating and drinking and sharing of gifts.  Some call it the “Jewish Mardi Gras.”

So what are we, as modern Christians, to do with this story?

Interestingly enough, there are no references to God in the book of Esther.  No name of God is mentioned; no prayers or pleas to God for deliverance are voiced; no miraculous, direct divine intervention occurs; and no explicit thanks to God are given when everything turns out in favor of the protagonists. 

Instead, this is a very human story that emerged from a very human context.  Like a lot of archetypal “good versus evil” stories that emerge out of a context in which political persecution and oppression are real and experienced by the intended audience, in this story, evil is vanquished quite thoroughly and violently.  And I might add that this extreme violence is less about historical accuracy or morality and more about the dramatic genre in which this story fits… because again, this tale was a larger-than-life expression of hope in a seemingly hopeless situation. 

This story was written to be a statement of hope that good could triumph over evil, even in this human life.

Though the human characters dominate the stage in this tale, many scholars have noted an underlying assumption of God’s presence and guidance and argue that in the text there are a number of indirect theological expressions.  One such expression is Mordecai’s conviction in today’s reading that “relief and deliverance will rise for the Jews from another quarter.” 

In the midst of the threat of destruction, Mordecai’s hope for deliverance is unwavering.  And yet, he goes on to encourage Esther to act as she is able, given her situation and station as the queen.  “Who knows” he says, “perhaps you have come to royal dignity for just such a time as this.”

And here, I think, in this exchange between Mordecai and Esther, is one place where we can learn from Esther’s story:

The first, and perhaps most basic lesson, is this: there is always hope. 

Even when God doesn’t jump down from the clouds in some grand display of presence and power; even when we’re stuck in the mud of crummy life circumstances; even when we too easily see the presence of evil and suffering endured by any of God’s children; even when we are left to respond to challenges with only the resources and actions of imperfect human beings; there is still hope.

Second is the pragmatic and realistic assertion that the divine will is often enacted and expressed through human agents. 

The ancient Israelites knew this.  They were familiar with the great prophets and divine intermediaries of their tradition.  So to suggest that Esther was the latest in a great lineage of human beings who did what they could in their life circumstances to discern God’s call and act on behalf of God and God’s people, makes sense.  No, Esther did not hear the voice of God call her or converse with a burning bush, but perhaps the voice and calling of God was discerned more subtly in the wise words of her cousin Mordecai who said to her, in not so many words, ‘Esther, perhaps you are here in this place at this time for a reason.  Perhaps you have a chance to stand up against hatred, tyranny, and racism and act for the good of your people and the good of the world.’  Though Esther’s call and discernment to act was less overt than some, it was no less important. 

So though it may sound simplistic, I think there is great truth to this message that there is always hope and that we, in our human lives, can be bearers of hope and agents of good in the face of evil and injustice.  Isn’t part of living a life of faith to listen for God’s call to us and discern God’s guidance for us? 

And I don’t know about you, but my experiences of call and discernment have more in common with Esther’s conversation with her cousin than the dramatic experiences of Moses or Isaiah or others.

Perhaps we too are in need of a reminder that we are all called by God to be bearers of hope and love “for such a time as this.”  Our situation may be different than Esther’s, but perhaps we too, in our life’s circumstances right here and now, have an opportunity to act on behalf of those in need of hope and compassion.  Perhaps the divine will has conspired to place us where we are so that we may have the opportunity to do God’s work in our little corner of the world.

Discernment of God’s often quiet and subtle call to us in our lives is not a new challenge.  The story of Esther’s assertion that hope and change can be brought about by human action is also not new.  And yet, that doesn’t necessarily make it any easier to sometimes figure out who we are, what we ought to be doing, and where God might be leading us in our lives.

And you know, I think that this is something the early Christian church struggled with too.  Years and even generations after the dramatic divine intervention of Jesus’ life, ministry, death and resurrection, early groups of Jesus followers had to figure out how to be the bearers of hope they were called to be.  They had to figure out what their mission was, who they were, how the church should take shape, and what it should strive to be. 

Like Esther, many early Christians had to take their identity underground in order to try to avoid persecution by the Roman Empire.  Like Esther, they struggled with how to be bearers of hope in the face of real experiences of oppression and a very real threat of death. 

But unlike Esther, some of them lost their lives when they revealed their true identity and stood up to the forces that threatened them.  And yet, they still persevered, convened their worship of God, invited new followers to join them, and continued to preach hope in the midst of sometimes seemingly hopeless circumstances.

This, I think, is one of the challenges of being bearers of hope in our world.  Unlike the ending of the story of Esther, history is full of stories where evil and violence have gained too much ground.  There have been far too many real threats of genocide and annihilation that were not thwarted before they began…the Holocaust, Rwanda, Cambodia and others.  And sometimes those of our own faith tradition have contributed to the violence.  It is hard sometimes to continue to speak of hope, peace, justice, and liberation in light of these realities, especially since we can’t undo our past failings as a human race. 

And yet, that is also even more of a reason to bear hope into a world in need of it.  It’s what we’re called to do.  It’s what Jesus did.  It’s what our ancestors in faith did. 

And we have a choice, each day we arise, to live in active discernment of God’s call to us in our lives.  We have a choice each day we arise to strive to be bearers of hope.  We have a choice each day we arise to proclaim that the bonds that unite us in love are stronger than the forces that seek to tear us down and break us apart.  We have a choice each day to affirm that despite our differences: differences of identity, of ethnicity, of nationality, of personality, of perspective, we are one human family, made one by a God who calls us to love one another and bear hope to one another.

This, I think, is one lesson the story of Esther has to teach us: that there is always hope and that we, even in our human imperfection, are called by God to bear that hope into the world, right here, right now, “for such a time as this.”  Amen.