Will Haughton’s Reflection on August 30, 2020
Scripture Reading: Esther 4:1-4, 9-14
It’s good to be back with you after a few weeks away. I enjoyed a nice holiday, although of course it was a bit different this year than it had been in the past. This time, we stayed much closer to home and didn’t make the type of sight-seeing day-trips we normally would or visit nearly as much with family and friends.
Perhaps the biggest difference from my traditional experience was the lack of church-attendance. In previous years, I’ve always enjoyed visiting different churches while on vacation—hearing a new voice, soaking in the atmosphere and simply sitting with my family for a service. During this holiday, however, I neither attended a service nor watched one online. It was one of, if not the, longest stretches I’ve ever gone without “going to church” in my life. Considering the circumstances, I didn’t feel badly about not doing so, but I did feel uncomfortable with how easy it was to just lie around on a Sunday morning or do something with my children other than taking them to church. I wanted to resist the sense that we were becoming secularized people, living without the habits or identity of the Christian life, but wasn’t quite sure how.
For we who are believers today, a relatable period in the biblical story may be that of the exile. In 597 BC, the Babylonian Empire conquered ancient Israel. The leading classes of Jewish society were then deported and taken into captivity—a common military tactic of the ancient world. Captives could often lead a normal life in exile but they were too far away to stir up revolution among their compatriots. Almost 60 years later, in 539 BC, the Persians conquered the Babylonians and allowed the Jews to go home, however many remained where they were, having put down roots and established themselves in new places.
The story of the Book of Esther took place in the Persian period, during the reign of the successor to the king who had first allowed the Jews to return home. The story’s heroes are two Jews, Esther and Mordecai, who lived in the city of Susa, at the western edge of modern Iran. It’s a complicated story with, admittedly, many distasteful elements. In short, Esther was a young woman who had been raised by her uncle, Mordecai. She was taken into the harem of the king and eventually chosen as queen. A villainous chief bureaucrat named Haman, who was also a personal enemy of Mordecai, convinced the king to order a genocide against the Jews throughout the empire. The king, not realizing the queen was a Jew, and otherwise not being an especially moral human being, agreed very casually to Haman’s plan. Mordecai convinced Esther to reveal her heritage to the king in order to save their people. “Perhaps,” he said, “you have come into the royal court for a time such as this?” Esther then used her position to great advantage. She exposed Haman’s evil plot. He was put to death for his treachery and Mordecai was appointed to the top government post in his place.
Esther is relatively unique among books of the Bible for not mentioning God—only The Song of Songs shares this characteristic. It is considered to offer a secular view, rather than a religious or theological one, of what it means to be Jewish. Some years ago, a United Church minister wrote a famous book with a controversial title: With or Without God. I don’t think it’s a very good book, but its appearance raises an interesting question, like Esther, about what it means to be a person of faith in secular times: how much does God have to do with it? My own experience of recent weeks is a reminder of how easy it can be for our own Christianity to become more of a cultural background than an ongoing practice of faithfulness.
For most of their history, the Jewish people have lived as a visible and often persecuted minority in different parts of the world. There is much that we followers of Jesus can learn from them about living-in-community and being persistent. The book of Esther reminds us, in particular, how important it is to claim our identity and trust that God as at work—even though we’re not always sure how. When the survival of the Jews in the Persian Empire was threatened, Mordecai encouraged Esther in these two ways: “Tell the king about your heritage,” he said, and “Perhaps it is for such a time as this that you came into the royal court.” Although God is not mentioned explicitly, there is a confident hope of God’s providence implied in these words. One way or another, Mordecai was certain, God’s will would be done.
At this time of year, the freshening of the air reminds me of going back to school when I was younger. Mostly, I enjoyed this annual experience, with the possible exception of my first year at university. I was looking forward to it, of course, but once I got there I disliked it right away. I didn’t fit in with the crowd socially, didn’t enjoy my studies and didn’t do very well academically. The biggest bright spot was making friends with my roommate in residence, Dave. We were paired randomly by student housing, but hit it off right away. We eventually stayed as roommates for the rest of our time in Kingston, stood up at each other’s weddings and we remain good friends to this day. In a challenging season of life, God sent me the right person at the right time. I am thankful to say that God has done this kind of thing for me many other times as well.
We don’t often know how God is at work in a particular situation. This is certainly true in these difficult times. However, as our ancestors in faith have handed down to us, and hopefully as many of us have experienced personally at different points, we can be sure that God is at work. To live in light of such a confident hope, and especially in community with others who share it, is the essence of faithfulness.