14. Nehemiah, Ezra, Esther, and Job: Renovation and Salvation

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NEHEMIAH, EZRA, ESTHER, AND JOB

Renovation and Salvation

In comparison to building the ark or the Tower of Babel or Solomon’s Temple, the work of rebuilding the walls of Jerusalem seemed little more than mundane manual labor. There was no grand design resulting in a spectacular architectural masterpiece. Rather, the work was a renovation project—a dirty, arduous job of making heaps of debris look once again like city walls. There was no romance, no magic or fantasy, in setting stones back in place and slapping on mud to fill the cracks.

The artist’s imagination soars as she depicts the Ark, the Tower, and the Temple, but not the walls. All cities had walls; they were part of the dusty Palestinian landscape. How else could a city protect itself against the enemy? If Jerusalem were to be revived, rebuilding the walls was a critical first step.

In many respects Nehemiah and Ezra were eminently suitable for the project at hand. They possessed none of the wealth and brilliance that Solomon exhibited, nor the solitary, ceaseless persistence of Noah. They were good, steady, hardworking men of God who rose to the occasion. They appeared on the scene at a very low point in Judah’s history—the exile and its aftermath. King Josiah had died in a foolhardy attack against the army of Egypt on its way to do battle with the forces of Babylon. Babylon laid siege to Judah and carried away priceless treasures from the Temple and palace, though not without a tug-of-war with Egypt.

Amid this struggle, Judah revolted against Babylon, with the help of Egyptian forces, and King Nebuchadnezzar responded with an all-out military assault. In the process, the Temple, the walls, and many other structures, including private homes, were plundered and destroyed. Thousands of citizens were then carted off to Babylon, including King Zedekiah, who, before his eyes were gouged out, was forced to watch his two sons executed. He was then thrown into prison.

What followed was a traumatic time not only for Judah but for Israel as well. Many years prior to this Babylonian captivity of Judah, Assyrian forces had attacked the northern kingdom and had laid siege to Samaria, the capital city. Thousands of Israelites had been deported and thousands of Assyrians had been forcibly relocated to replace them. Israel and Judah were connected by their joint worship in the holy city of Jerusalem. Thus the destruction of the Temple and the city itself marked a devastating low point for both the Northern and Southern Kingdoms.

In fact, this seventy-year exile is a time when the future of Israel is more uncertain than it had been since the exodus. After King Cyrus of Persia subsequently conquered Babylon, however, the people of Judah, under the leadership of Ezra and Nehemiah, were permitted to return home and rebuild the city—the walls, the Temple, shops, and residential dwellings. The biblical history of this era is confusing, but a simple overview distinguishes among three successive empires to the east, beginning with the centuries-long Assyrian empire, followed by the Babylonian and the Persian empires.

Generations after the reign of King Cyrus, Ahasuerus ascended the throne. Following a serious marital dispute with his wife Vashti, Esther becomes his bride—more than that, the greatest Jewish queen in history. Her story is a favorite for Jews and Christians alike.

The mysterious story of Job is not dated and does not easily fit into the historical chronology of Israel. In the biblical arrangement of narratives, however, the book of Job follows immediately after the book of Esther. That Job has no clear biblical or historical setting or time frame is appropriate. His story, more than that of any other Old Testament figure, is timeless. His questions are as applicable today as they were for ancient Israel.

In the spring of 458 B.C., Ezra assembled a small group of Jews on the banks of a Babylonian canal. The return of the people seemed less threatening than similar events from the early pages of Jewish history. But for Ezra and those with him, it was no small mission. Ahead stretched nine hundred miles of hostile territory and uncertainty about how the people would receive them. Even so, according to Ezra’s journal, he was filled with courage because “the hand of the Lord my God was on me” (Ezra 7:28).

Ezra: Scribe Who Sparks a Revival

Ezra is a scribe and priest living in Babylon, a descendant of Moses’ brother Aaron. He is a functionary more than a scholar. True, he knows the law of Moses. But basically he is an archivist, a keeper of past records, including the names and numbers of all the families who had returned from exile some years earlier. They rebuilt the Temple (after many threats and work stoppages), and Ezra’s most important role in this situation is to return to Jerusalem, bringing with him all rules and regulations necessary for true worship.

King Artaxerxes of Persia is impressed with him and his God and essentially gives him everything he asks for, including an open account from the royal Persian treasury for miscellaneous expenses. He allows Ezra to return to Jerusalem accompanied by priests and many others associated with temple responsibilities. More than that, he sends a letter of recommendation assigning Ezra and his assistants the high honor of researching all the teachings of God. Beyond that, Ezra is to make judicial appointments, teach the law, and collect taxes. And for all these services he is to be well paid.

Ezra leading exiles home to Jerusalem

The memory of Ezra the scribe has scarcely had fair play among Bible-reading people. True, neither his character nor the incidents of his life reach the height of interest or of grandeur belonging to the earlier men and their times. He is no hero, or prophet; only a scribe; and there is a certain narrowness as well as a prosaic turn about his mind, and altogether one feels that he is a smaller man than the Elijahs and Davids of the older days. But the homely garb of the scribe covered a very brave devout heart, and the story of his life deserves to be more familiar to us than it is.

True to his assignment, Ezra keeps track of everything, including lists of fellow travelers and men who had married foreign wives, as well as utensils and vessels for temple worship. He’s a pencil pusher, some would say—a life with far less flair than that of Joshua, David, or Elijah. But he does rise to the occasion when he hears that there has been reckless intermarriage between the Israelites and their pagan neighbors. His testimony speaks for itself: “When I heard this, I tore my tunic and cloak, pulled hair from my head and beard and sat down appalled.”[1] Not until the time of the evening ritual sacrifice does he get up from the ground and call on God for forgiveness: “My dear God, I’m so totally ashamed, I can’t bear to face you. . . . We’ve been stuck in a muck of guilt since the time of our ancestors until right now. . . . Yet here we are, at it again, breaking your commandments by intermarrying with the people who practice all these obscenities!”[2]

His prayer sparks a revival. A vast crowd, confessing sins and weeping tears of great sorrow, gathers around him. After that Ezra fasts and prays until the next morning. Then he returns to the people, demanding that they all abide by a covenant to rid themselves of their pagan wives. They agree and Ezra outlines a procedure for marital separation. It involves some two months of intense negotiation to carry out the plan. When they have completed it, God’s wrath is appeased.

After this revival, Ezra summons the priests and Levites to dig deeper into the Book of the Law that God had given to Moses. Again there is much weeping over past infidelities. On hearing these long-forgotten decrees and instructions given by God to Moses, the people confess their sins and dedicate their lives to God. Ezra also reminds his listeners of the long-forgotten Feast of Tabernacles, an autumn outdoor festival that entails camping outdoors. He sends word to all the surrounding villages and to those who are living in Jerusalem, summoning the people to go out into the countryside and collect leafy branches for the building of booths in the Temple courtyard. The people respond with great delight. It is a seven-day celebration of feasting and listening to Ezra read from God’s revelation to Moses. After this, Ezra disappears from the record.

Five centuries before Jesus was born, the Israelites returned from exile to find Jerusalem in ruins and their beloved temple destroyed. With great enthusiasm they set about rebuilding it. However, Zerubbabel, the governor, got little farther than laying the foundation before opposition set in. Neighbors fought the project tooth and nail, finally succeeding in getting a restraining order to halt construction (Ezra 4). Enemies mocked. Supporters became discouraged. For years the site stood silent. . . . And then one day a man of God, Zechariah, began to speak words that pierced Zerubbabel to the heart and filled him with fresh hope: “This is the word of the Lord to Zerubbabel,” came the message. “Not by might nor by power, but by my Spirit, says the Lord Almighty.” Zerubbabel could feel his heart pounding as the message continued. “What are you, O mighty mountain? Before Zerubbabel you will become level ground. . . . The hands of Zerubbabel have laid the foundation of this temple, his hands will also complete it” (Zech. 4:6–7).

Nehemiah: God’s Contractor for Wall Rebuilding

Nehemiah’s story is told in his own words. In fact, his writing is the only actual memoir in the Bible. As official cupbearer to Artaxerxes, king of Persia, he holds a most prestigious position, ever on guard against any suspicious activity or plots to poison the monarch. That career is left behind, however, as he travels to Jerusalem to become governor and general contractor for the rebuilding of the walls. His work is critically important, but like Ezra’s, not particularly exciting.

As a trusted aide of the king, Nehemiah lives in the large palace at Susa, one of the Persian capitals, known as the Eternal City of the East. Life is good. It would have been tempting to remain in this comfortable situation. Instead he travels to Jerusalem to oversee a massive rebuilding project.

His entry into Jerusalem comes more than a dozen years after Ezra had come to reestablish the law of Moses. A delegation headed by Hanani had arrived in Susa bringing a report: walls and gates and city in ruins, debris strewn everywhere. Nehemiah is beside himself, and his weeping extends into days of mourning—prayer and fasting. He confesses the sins of the past and present, his own included, admitting that he and the people have treated God very badly, and he begs forgiveness.

Ninety years had passed since the returning exiles had arrived at Jerusalem. They had encountered many difficulties which had marred their progress and cooled their enthusiasm. The Temple, indeed, was rebuilt, but Jerusalem lay in ruins, and its walls remained as they had been left, by Nebuchadnezzar’s siege, some century and a half before. A little party of pious pilgrims had gone from Persia to the city, and had come back to Shushan with a sad story of weakness and despondency, affliction and hostility. One of the travellers had a brother, a youth named Nehemiah, who was a cup-bearer in the court of the Persian king. Living in a palace, and surrounded with luxury, his heart was with his brethren; and the ruins of Jerusalem were dearer to him than the pomp of Shushan.

Looking like a wreck—no sleep, red eyes, sad face—he appears as cupbearer before both the king and the queen. The king asks what is wrong. Nehemiah, having prayed that God would open the king’s heart, describes in detail a city in ruins—the very place where his ancestors are buried. King Artaxerxes asks him what he desires. Nehemiah is ready. He wishes to return to Jerusalem commissioned by the king himself. That would entail letters of recommendation and authorization, supplies, and a military escort. The king agrees, a gratifying answer to Nehemiah’s prayer.

Upon arriving in Jerusalem, Nehemiah surreptitiously inspects the walls and assesses the work ahead of him. Only then does he explain his mission to officials there, emphasizing that both God and the king are behind him. They enthusiastically support the project, eager to get involved themselves. But there are detractors, particularly foreigners residing in the city.

The priests, including the high priest, dig into the work, as do others who are paid for their labor. Nehemiah keeps a detailed record of exactly who repairs what. Every demolished gate, for example, is completely rebuilt: the Sheep Gate, the Fish Gate, the Jeshanah Gate, the Valley Gate, the Dung Gate, the Fountain Gate, the Water Gate, the Horse Gate, the East Gate, and the Inspection Gate. Each one, recorded with workers’ names and work accomplished.

The non-Jewish residents, however, oppose the work relentlessly, particularly Sanballat and Tobiah, who spread the word that Nehemiah and his crew are not equipped to do the job: the workmanship is substandard, and the laborers are being overworked. In fact, so threatening is the opposition that Nehemiah stations guards to protect the workers, and he calls on God to bring down the enemies: “Give them over as plunder in a land of captivity. Do not cover up their guilt or blot out their sins from your sight.”[3] It is true that Nehemiah is a taskmaster; the wall building goes on day and night. But he expects no more than he gives. Along with the rest, he sleeps in his clothes, ever on the lookout for danger.

Wall construction, however, is not Nehemiah’s only responsibility. He must also adjudicate grievances and settle conflicting legal and ethical issues, especially between recently returning exiles and longtime settlers. Furthermore, the Jerusalem officials are demanding high payments from the poor, with taxes and rents on their lands. Wives (as well as their husbands) loudly protest to Nehemiah, complaining that they do not have enough left to even feed their children.

Nehemiah, a man of action, is furious upon hearing of their dire situation. He calls the city fathers and other nobles to a meeting and blasts them: “Each one of you is gouging his brother. . . . What you’re doing is wrong.” To Nehemiah, this matter is far more than one of fairness and civic duty. It is a religious matter: “Is there no fear of God left in you?” he demands. Then he issues an order: “Give them back their foreclosed fields, vineyards, olive groves, and homes right now. And forgive your claims on their money, grain, new wine, and olive oil.”[4]

Nehemiah and Sanballat’s servant

Nehemiah was convinced that the restoration work was the will of God. He had seen it evidenced by Artaxerxes’s support and good will and by the rousing support of the Jews. In light of this, those who opposed the Jews were viewed as enemies. Sanballat and his cronies were clearly of this camp.

Many interpreters have trouble with Nehemiah’s prayer and his request for retribution on his enemies. The modern Christian often views his prayer as unforgiving and harsh, lacking in the love of Christ which calls us. However, Scripture reminds us that vengeance belongs to God. . . .

The wealthy officials and nobles agree to Nehemiah’s demands. But he is taking no chances. He summons the priests and requires that this elite gang of Jerusalem landlords promise before them that they will keep their word.

As governor, Nehemiah has the authority to tax the people himself, particularly including a costly food allowance that previous governors had exacted from the citizens. But the fear of God has gotten hold of him, and he is singularly committed to rebuilding the wall.

But the opposition from outsiders continues unabated. Sanballat, Tobiah, and Geshem repeatedly attempt to lure Nehemiah away for a meeting with them. He refuses. So they send a message claiming they know what he’s up to. They’ve heard confirmed reports among Judah’s neighbors that he is secretly planning to overthrow King Artaxerxes and set himself up as king, with puppet prophets ready to announce to the people that God has anointed a king in Judah.

The men are lying weasels bent on bringing Nehemiah down. They present their false information to the Jerusalem leaders and nobles. Intimidation is their game. Rumors fly.

Nehemiah is feeling pressured. He agrees to a secret meeting with the prophet Shemaiah, who claims he has a message from God and requests a private audience in the Temple. Nehemiah refuses, sensing Shemaiah has been sent by Tobiah and Sanballat in an effort to trap him. Shemaiah is no more than a prophet-for-hire doing the bidding of his enemies.

Finally, after working night and day for fifty-two days—less than eight weeks—the walls are completed, the product of fine workmanship. It is a stunning accomplishment—enough to cause the opposition to sit up and take notice and to recognize that truly God had been behind the effort. And the dedication ceremony itself is a lavish musical production.

With the walls rebuilt and the new gates all properly hung, Governor Nehemiah sets in place security measures. But Jerusalem is still virtually a ghost town, largely deserted, with most of the homes still in rubble. With the exception of the leaders, those who have returned from the exile as well as those who had never gone into exile are living primarily in small towns in the region. That is where they feel at home and where they feel safest, but Jerusalem needs residents. Those living in towns are informed that one out of every ten families (determined by drawing lots) must relocate to Jerusalem.

For Nehemiah, the rebuilding of Jerusalem is far more than a temporal matter. It is a spiritual rebirth. Revival occurs when Ezra reads from the book of God’s revelation to Moses. When the people begin to weep and acknowledge their unfaithfulness, Nehemiah admonishes them to return to their homes and prepare a feast and to celebrate. Social reformer that he is, he makes sure that this day of feasting also includes the poor.

Nehemiah is an effective leader, but when he takes his leave to return to Babylon for consultation with King Artaxerxes, things fall apart. Under his watch—and perhaps outside his purview—the priest Eliashib had been assigned caretaker of the Temple warehouse. Eliashib, a close friend of the troublemaker Tobiah, desecrates the storerooms in Nehemiah’s absence. He likewise refuses to dole out the regular provisions for those who are in charge of Temple worship, forcing them to return to the countryside just to have enough to eat.

When Nehemiah returns, he dresses down the Jerusalem leaders, demanding to know why the Temple rebuilding has been forsaken. He takes it upon himself to hire honest, hardworking men to take charge of the storage facility, and he makes sure all workers are paid in full. He also takes the leaders to task for their failure to observe the Sabbath. Indeed, the people are acting as though the Sabbath is just another workday. Such behavior, he knows all too well, will only bring down the wrath of God.

Intermarriage is another very troubling matter. Nehemiah learns that during his absence, men have taken to marrying the women of their foreign neighbors. And to add insult to injury, their children are growing up with no knowledge of the Hebrew tongue. So outraged is Nehemiah that he roughs them up—hitting, punching, and pulling hair. They are following in the evil ways of King Solomon, whose foreign wives contributed to his downfall.

Nehemiah’s memoir doubles in many respects as a prayer. He has carried a heavy load of responsibility, and he wants God to recognize that. His purpose is to lay out before God all his efforts to instill in the people the precepts given to Moses for appropriate conduct in everyday life and in divine worship. Nehemiah was a good man. God surely heard with a nod of approval his final prayer: “Remember me, O my God, for good.”[5]

Vashti: Queen Who Refuses to Demean Herself

Few queens in history have lived in such wealth and splendor. Vashti is the wife of King Ahasuerus (Xerxes), who rules a vast empire of more than a hundred provinces from Ethiopia to India. She lives at the plush palace complex in Susa. Her husband is arrogant and utterly self-absorbed, wallowing in his incredible wealth. And he wants the world to know, so he sponsors a six-month fair, during which time his extravagant treasures are on display for others to see. He rightly assumes that his ostentatious wealth impresses his provincial governors and administrative staff, to say nothing of his ordinary subjects.

The culmination of the grand expo is a seven-day feast for everyone living in the city—a garden party of eating and drinking. The courtyard décor is luxurious, the furniture plush, the columns draped in fine woven fabrics, and the gold and silver accessories perfectly arranged. Equally impressive are the culinary delights. The wine flows freely, and it’s all you can drink, no questions asked.

In another wing of the palace Queen Vashti is hosting her own feast for the prominent ladies of the empire. They are all dressed in their finery and flattered to be in the very presence of such a dazzling, regal woman.

On the last day of the feast, after six days of indulging heavily in wine and spirits, the king summons Vashti to show herself before all the men. She finds the request demeaning, especially in light of cultural considerations. He is intoxicated, and she is not about to lose her dignity by appearing before a courtyard full of ogling and guffawing men. In defiance of the king, she sends a message back that she will not appear.

To Vashti, the command of the king—her husband, who alone had the right to gaze upon her beautiful form—was most revolting to her sense of propriety, and knowing what the consequences of her refusal to appear before the half-drunken company would entail, refused in no uncertain terms to comply with the king’s demand. She stood strong in womanly self-respect and “refused to come at the king’s commandment.” Her noble scorn at her threatened indignity deserves finer recognition. What the king sought would have infringed upon her noble, feminine modesty, therefore she had every right to disobey her wine-soaked husband. . . . All praise to the heroic Vashti for her decent disobedience.

How dare she! She is the wife of the king and legally his property. If he can make a public exhibit of his wealth and splendor, why not of his own wife? He is outraged by her independent frame of mind. He’ll show her. So he calls in his counselors—accountants, attorneys, ambulance chasers—anyone who can figure out a way to stick it to Vashti. What are the legalities of this situation? he asks. What laws has she broken?

One of his toadies speaks, insisting that Vashti has offended not simply the king but the whole population—all the leaders down to the lowliest menial worker. More than that, she will set the whole empire upside down. When other married women get word of what she has done, they all will think they can defy their husbands. The last thing Persia needs is to be under the thumb of uppity women.

The story of Esther is vivid. . . . The absolute authority of Ahasuerus is stressed in different ways. . . . However, the plot makes clear it is also about challenging imperial power. It is Vashti’s failure to obey that leads . . . one of the great king’s counselors to suggest that no man’s authority will survive if Vashti’s challenge to Ahasuerus is allowed to go unpunished. . . . In this connection events later take on a comic turn. . . . In chapter 5 Esther arranges a dinner for three with the king and Haman. At last in chapter 7 the dinner takes place. Esther denounces Haman (v. 6) who is terrified, but somehow the all-powerful Ahasuerus goes out to the garden. Meanwhile, to beg for his life “Haman had thrown himself on the couch where Esther was reclining.” The king returns to find him lying on top of the queen, and expostulates: Will he even molest the queen while she is with me in the house? (Est 7:8) . . . An all-powerful emperor, who makes laws that cannot be repealed, yet cannot control his wife, and leaves his replacement wife alone with his prime minister for a moment, and returns to find an attempted rape.

Thus it is concluded by the law of the Medes and Persians that Vashti is banned from the court, never to again come into the presence of the king. The proclamation will be published throughout the land and no household is to be excluded: “All the women will respect their husbands, from the least to the greatest.”[6]

After his hangover has worn off and he has sobered up and his seething anger has subsided, the king seems to second-guess his decision. Maybe Vashti is a proper queen after all. Maybe his action the previous night was a thoughtless mistake. But his aides will hear nothing of it. They are hankering to humiliate Vashti by downplaying her beauty in comparison to that of others. They insist she must be replaced by a new queen.

They specify a virgin and propose a Miss Persia Pageant. Each provincial leader is to assemble the most beautiful women and bring them to the palace. There they will be offered creams, lotions, hair-styling, make-up, jewels, fashions—whatever it takes to enhance their appearance before they are presented to the king. He will be the sole judge as to which one will replace Vashti. How Vashti is holding up under such an undignified and demeaning sport is not revealed.

Enter Esther.

Esther: Queen Who Saves Her People

Absolutely stunning, she is the adopted daughter of her cousin Mordecai, a Jew in exile and a high official in the king’s court at Susa. Mordecai hears about the beauty pageant and is eager that Esther should compete. He is able to pull strings, and her good looks puts her in the running. Hegai, the palace official who oversees the well-being of the pageant participants, takes Esther under his wing. He assigns her several personal assistants to attend to her every need, coach her in proper etiquette, and groom her for her appearance before the king. She is served the finest delicacies and offered the best salon treatments money can buy.

Queen Esther prepares for the king

After spending a year in preparation, each young woman takes her turn to present herself before the king, though not on a runway strutting one after another. Rather, each one goes to the king’s residence in the evening and stays the night. If she has pleased him, he may call her back for a return engagement. When it is Esther’s turn to appear before the king, he immediately falls for her and decides to crown her queen as a replacement for Vashti. To mark the occasion he announces a day of celebrations throughout the kingdom. He bestows lavish gifts and throws an extravagant party. Esther is the center of attention.

Queen Esther assumes the duties once reserved for Vashti. Life in the palace carries on without incident until Esther receives word from Mordecai that he has gotten wind of a conspiracy to assassinate the king. She immediately reports to her husband King Ahasuerus. He tracks down the conspirators and orders them hanged.

Sometime after this, Esther learns of a more far-reaching conspiracy. The target is the entire Jewish population in exile. But in this case the king himself is involved. He has agreed to purge all the Jews in the kingdom at the behest of his most trusted administrator, Haman. Haman is irritated that Mordecai has refused to properly bow before him. As punishment he decides to vent his anti-Semitic rage on all Jews by circulating vicious rumors of a massive Jewish takeover plot.

It was a very strange thing that Esther, who was the foster child of Mordecai, a humble Jew, would rise from lowly rank to be queen of Persia. Out of all the women gathered from every province how singular that she should be chosen to be queen! . . . If God has brought Esther to the throne that she may go in unto the king and save her people; go in, good Esther! Fear not the risk. Fast and pray your three days before you go; but be not dismayed. . . . Ahasuerus cannot kill you; you cannot die: he can refuse his golden sceptre to all the princes of the empire, but not to you; for God has placed you where you are, and ordained you for his purpose.

Imagine living life teetering on an unstable perch in a hostile world, while trying to perform a difficult task. This is the metaphor that dominates the classic film, The Fiddler on the Roof. . . . The image of the fiddler on the roof applies to the Jews in Persia in Esther’s time just as much as it does to early-twentieth-century Russian Jews. They were not like those who lived around them, and they knew that their overlords could not be trusted. The Persians held all the power in their hands and the Jews had none. Even though these Jews had been born in Persia, they were exiles far from their homeland, surrounded by strangers. Their property could be seized or their life ended in a moment on the whim of some petty bureaucrat. On the other hand, if fortune smiled on them, they might yet survive to a good old age and make a reasonable living. As Tevye put it, “It isn’t easy . . . but it is home.” In such a difficult situation, why should the Jews take the risk of living a distinctive lifestyle? Why not just give in to the empire’s demands and allow themselves to be assimilated and become invisible? To reverse the old Japanese proverb, “The nail that doesn’t stick out is much less likely to get hammered.”

Esther is terrified when she hears what has transpired behind her back. The order confirming the slaughter has been posted throughout the provinces. She learns that Jews all over the kingdom are in mourning. Mordecai wants her, the queen, to do something about it. She sends a message back that she would be risking her own life if she did.

She is queen. Why would she drag her feet? Apparently things have not been going so well for her and the king, who no doubt has a very large harem. She reminds Mordecai that anyone who barges in on the king without an invitation is put to death. As for her—the queen herself—she has not been invited to see him for a month.

But Mordecai is not about to let her off the hook. She is the Persian king’s wife, to be sure, but as a Jew she bears a grave responsibility for her people. “Don’t think that just because you live in the king’s house you’re the one Jew who will get out of this alive,” he tells her, and lays the guilt trip on her. “If you persist in staying silent at a time like this, help and deliverance will arrive for the Jews from someplace else.”[7] Deliverance here and now is the very reason, he is convinced, for her being in this royal position.

So she relents and tells him to call for fasting among God’s people. She promises she will go to the king even without an invitation. Dressed in her finest, Esther waits outside the door to the chamber where the king is seated on the throne. He sees her and invites her in. He is most pleased with what he sees, and asks her what she wants. He’ll give her anything her heart desires.

She does not reveal the reason she has come. First she wants him to be her guest at dinner and to bring Haman along. The king is ready to go right away, and he summons Haman. After he is merry with wine, he asks her again what her request is. He’ll give her half the kingdom if that’s what she wants. But she puts him off again. Come back tomorrow for dinner, she tells him. Then she will disclose her request.

Haman thinks his dinner invitation from Queen Esther is another mark of his prestige. He tells his friends and is eager for the royal feast. He is on top of the world—except for when he sees Mordecai, who refuses to bow to him. So furious is he that, with encouragement from his wife and friends, he determines to build a high gallows and hang Mordecai the following morning, so that he can be entertained by the queen with no thought of this thorn in his flesh.

Everyday Life

Anti-Semitism and Assimilation

It is sometimes thought that anti-Semitism began in the Christian era, but hundreds of years earlier it is seen in all its ugly guises in the book of Esther. Jews were ordered exterminated not because of some collective crime they may have committed but for no other reason than that they were Jews. But the degree to exterminate the Jews that the wicked Haman had demanded served to bring a strong sense of unity while at the same time putting the brakes on the assimilation process.

The Feast of Purim is the most festive of the Jewish holidays. This centuries-old tradition recounts Esther’s deliverance of her people. The Scroll of Esther is read out loud in the synagogue, sometimes to boisterous cheers and boos as the story unfolds. Children and adults often attend dressed in costume, giving the celebration a carnival air. It is a joyful time that commemorates this stand against anti-Semitism.

It is to such a setting that we are introduced in the book of Esther. Never before have the Jews experienced anything like it, unless it was in Egypt, a thousand years earlier. Persia is an archetypal Oriental tyranny, in which the peoples live by grace of the despot’s wishes, and in which the physical survival of the Jews implicitly remains an open question. . . . Under these circumstances, the narrative of Esther is faithful to the tenor of the times, seeming to bypass issues of theology and religious observance to cope with the more burning issue of the actual physical survival of the Jews. . . . At the same time, [the book of] Esther also moves to assert itself against that other, more subtle opponent. . . . In Persia, as elsewhere, the Jews begin to disappear into the fabric of the empire, some of them changing their names and their dress, and arguing with self-confidence against the possibility and desirability of a continuation to Jewish history.

Unbeknownst to Esther, the king has been reading some old records and is troubled by the fact that he had never properly rewarded Mordecai for exposing an earlier conspiracy against him. He asks Haman how best to honor someone who has done fine service for the king. Haman, thinking the king is referring to him, suggests the man be paraded around town in the king’s very garments. So the King orders Haman to perform that very service for Mordecai. Haman complies but now fears for his own life.

Esther’s servants have prepared the feast, and now she is welcoming the king and Haman to sit at her table. The king is impatient. He wants to know Esther’s request. So she tells him everything—that she is a Jew and that she and her people have been set up for a slaughter. The king demands to know who the fiend is behind such an order. Then she exposes Haman. The king is livid. Haman’s scheme would have meant the death of Queen Esther herself. Inexplicably, the king wanders off to the adjoining garden, perhaps to calm himself. He returns to find Haman prostrate and pleading with Esther for his life. When the king returns, he accuses him of molesting his wife. This, not surprisingly, seals Haman’s doom.

One of the king’s attendants speaks up with a suggestion. A gallows has already been prepared. Why not use it for Haman? The king agrees. Before he makes any further decisions, the king gives Esther a vast tract of land belonging to Haman, and he rewards Mordecai by promoting him to the position that Haman had held.

But Esther wants to make sure the king will expunge Haman’s order to massacre the Jews. The king obliges her, and more than that. He sends word to all the provinces that Jews have the king’s authority behind them to respond with force against anyone who might attack them. In every province Jews are celebrating their newfound freedom. “Not only that, but many non-Jews became Jews—now it was dangerous not to be a Jew!”[8]

As Esther’s adoptive father Mordecai attains more power in the royal court, and anyone who so much as threatens any Jew is put to death. Indeed, some five hundred adversaries are killed in the king’s palace alone. The king approves of all of this, and he’s eager to grant anything else that Esther desires. She requests that the bodies of Haman’s ten sons, who had also been killed, be not hastily buried but rather hanged for public viewing. The king complies. The killing extends far beyond Susa. Out in the provinces, Jews kill seventy-five thousand of their enemies. Then they celebrate with joyful partying—a time of feasting known as Purim.

Job: Talks Back to God amid Testing

The book of Job has all the marks of a grand parable. Unlike other figures in the Bible since the time of Abraham, Job has no chronological place in the span of generations. He rises out of the text with no heritage—no father or grandfather, no ancestry at all. He hails from Uz, a geographical location that perplexes archaeologists. Who then is this man named Job?

He is an incredibly prosperous rancher: a flock of seven thousand sheep, three thousand camels, hundreds of donkeys and teams of oxen. He has all the servants he could ever need to tend his vast holdings. His wife and ten children—seven sons and three daughters—complete his most fortunate life. He is a man of influence—more than anyone else in the known world. More than that, he is a man of integrity—not a dishonest bone in his body, a man who does not tolerate wrongdoing. He is God-fearing and known for decency in everything he does.

The same cannot be said for the boys. They are partyers. They’re rich kids who know how to have a good time, always including their fun-loving sisters. Job is concerned about their behavior, fearing that amid their good times they might be blaspheming God. So after every party he arises in the morning and prepares a sacrifice of atonement for each child. This, he hopes, will cover transgressions they may have committed the previous night.

Unbeknownst to Job, God and Satan are having a discussion about him. Satan had come along with the angels one day to meet with God. God asks Satan what he has been doing. Satan shrugs and says he’s been doing what he usually does—looking down on earth to see what’s going on. So God asks him if he has observed his friend Job, a good and righteous man in every sense of the word. Satan has observed, but he is not impressed. The only reason Job behaves so well, he insists, is that he’s got everything anyone could ever want. Things would be very different if he were to lose his health and his wealth and his wonderful family.

God disagrees. He dares Satan to test Job. Do anything to him you want to except kill him. So Satan is off to do what he does best.

Totally oblivious to this otherworldly conversation, Job carries on with his daily duties. That is, until he is stopped dead in his tracks. A field hand has come racing in from the distance. He has horrific news. An enemy tribe has swept down on him and the others when they were plowing and has killed all the oxen and donkeys as well as the servants. He is the only survivor.

Without even a moment to catch his breath and ask a question, Job sees a shepherd racing toward him to report that an electrical storm has taken out every one of the seven thousand sheep and all the other shepherds. Barely has the shepherd delivered his grim news when another messenger arrives, this time to tell Job that all of his three thousand camels have been stolen by raiders and the drivers have been slaughtered.

Job is too numb to even think straight. But he’s jolted out of his stupor when still another messenger races in to bring the most terrible news a father could ever imagine. All ten of his children were together at one of their usual parties when a tornado struck and they all died—they and their servants. The messenger is the only one who survived.

Job’s response is almost as stunning as the news. He tears his clothes, shaves off all his hair, and then falls on his face and worships God. His words are memorable:

Naked I came from my mother’s womb,

And naked shall I return.

The LORD gave, and the LORD has taken away;

Blessed be the name of the LORD.[9]

In many respects the man Job is unfathomable, particularly in comparison to the long train of biblical figures from Genesis onward. They practically flaunt their character flaws. Sin is ever lurking at the door. One after another they anger God. But not Job. He is too good to be true. Adultery, idolatry, murder, theft—these are not uncommon among God’s people. Not so with Job. When Chaldean raiders steal his three thousand camels and kill his camel drivers, he does not call on God to strike the raiders dead. There is not a hint of revenge.

Rather, Job carries on with his life, having lost everything but his wife and his integrity. Satan was wrong. Amidst such devastation, Job remains a righteous man. But unbeknownst to him, God and Satan are again conversing. Satan argues that a man can maintain his goodness as long as he has his health, but give him physical afflictions and he will shake his fist at God. God insists this is not true, but he tells Satan he can do what he wants with Job as long as he doesn’t kill him.

One day as he is trying to come to terms with his terrible losses, Job notices a rash, then boils on his skin. They itch and he scratches. Spreading quickly, they cover his whole body. Worse yet, the sores are oozing with puss. There’s not a square inch of his body that’s not infected. He scratches himself with a pottery shard, but it only makes matters worse. It is revolting just to look at him. He goes out and sits on the smoldering ashes of a garbage pile.

If he were still in his right mind, he would want to end it all—perhaps using the pottery shard to slit his wrists. That course seems logical to his wife. Curse God and die, she rages. She is in the anger stage of grief and can hardly be faulted for her words. But he will not cave. Indeed, he shows his own righteous indignation: “You’re talking like an empty-headed fool. We take the good days from God—why not also the bad days?”[10]

The days must surely drag on for Job. But news gets out, and three friends hear of his misfortune. They travel to visit him, each one coming from a different homeland. Eliphaz, Bildad, and Zophar, who have obviously expended some effort in making the journey, bring neither gifts nor healing remedies for their now destitute and disease-ridden friend.

When they initially arrive (apparently all at the same time), they are shocked. He is not the man they once knew, and they demonstrate their profound sadness. They cry out in grief, tearing their clothes and smudging their heads and faces with dust. Then they join him on his garbage heap for seven long days. Not a word is spoken.

Finally Job clears his throat. His anger has been building up inside him, and now he explodes. He curses the day he was born. All the goodness he has enjoyed for so long does not begin to equal the unbearable misery that he has been suffering. If only the calendar could be turned back. If only his parents had not been intimate that night long ago. If only he had never been born. If only, if only, if only . . . How much better it would be if he were nonexistent.

Job’s suffering

Eliphaz is the first to speak. He’s a windbag whose response is much longer than Job’s cry of lament. After rambling on about the ways of God, he asks a pointed question and then, without waiting for a response, answers it himself:

Where were the upright ever destroyed?

As I have observed, those who plow evil

and those who sow trouble reap it.

At the breath of God they perish;

at the blast of his anger they are no more.[11]

He goes on to admonish Job not to shrink from God’s discipline. God is simply meting out the punishment he deserves.

Job is not buying it. Eliphaz has completely missed the point. Job’s suffering is beyond what he can bear. “Is it any wonder,” he demands, “that I’m screaming like a caged cat?” All he is asking for is that God let him die quickly—“squash me like a bug.”[12] Then he turns on Eliphaz and the others, ordering them to point specifically to his sins if they think that is the issue. “Honest words never hurt anyone, but what’s the point of all this pious bluster?”[13]

Job goes on to say that they are not going to shut him up—that his grievances are bitter, but at least they are honest, which is more than he can say for them. He hates his life; he wants to die, and they have come to suggest that he’s gotten what he deserves. He’s outraged.

Bildad then pipes up, scolding Job and suggesting that his words are nothing more than pathetic drivel. How dare he question the ways of God! Rather, he should fall on his face and confess his wretched sinfulness. If he’s not guilty as he claims, God will restore everything he’s lost. Indeed, Bildad suspects that Job must have offended God. Otherwise God would not be causing him to suffer.

Job is incredulous. Is he supposed to bring his case before God as though God is a judge? God is far beyond our ways. He’s in charge of the entire universe. Here on earth he causes earthquakes and controls the tides. Job is aware of God’s presence, but he has no recourse when bad things happen: “If he steals you blind, who can stop him?”[14] He could only wish that God were a man:

He is not a mere mortal like me . . . ,

that we might confront each other in court.

If only there were someone to mediate between us,

someone to bring us together,

someone to remove God’s rod from me,

so that his terror would frighten me no more.

Then I would speak up without fear of him,

but as it now stands with me, I cannot.[15]

Job concludes that he might as well give up, because even if he is innocent there would be no way to prove it before a judge like God. All he can do is beg for mercy. But at the end of the day, God is essentially aloof from the anguish and pain he is suffering. All Job wants is to die in peace.

Zophar is distressed by Job’s cynicism. Job has stepped over the line; no one should be allowed to speak of God the way he does. He is only making his situation worse, and he needs to come clean of all his sin.

Job will have none of it. He comes back to his point that God’s ways are so far above ours that there is simply no way to make sense of them. Then he goes on the attack, telling them that if they have nothing helpful to say, they ought to shut up.

With that Job turns to God, begging him first of all to quit torturing him. Secondly, he would like to interact with God directly. If God has things against him, he would simply like to know what they are. But maybe this is not the issue at all. God probably has nothing to do with his troubles—or maybe he does. Job goes back and forth—at times seeming to lose faith altogether. Is this miserable life all there is? he wonders. Or, is there actually life after death?

The three friends take their turns scolding Job, accusing him of being unspiritual. They keep going back to the same refrain. God’s law is that the wicked are punished. Who does he think he is? Should God change the laws of the universe just for him? Come on, Job, get serious! They pounce on Job’s lack of faith, insisting that all he is interested in is his own well-being.

Job is sick and tired of his three friends, but he understands human nature. Friends often behave in fickle ways. Besides, his real beef is with God. His friends blabber on while God is silent. Where is God in all of his misery? If he were able to locate God, he would go directly to him. But God seems to be hiding.

God wants us to choose to love him freely, even when that choice involves pain, because we are committed to him, not to our own good feelings and rewards. He wants us to cleave to him, as Job did, even when we have every reason to deny him hotly. That, I believe, is the central message of Job. Satan had taunted God with the accusation that humans are not truly free. Was Job being faithful simply because God had allowed him a prosperous life? Job’s fiery trials proved the answer beyond doubt. Job clung to God’s justice when he was the best example in history of God’s apparent injustice. He did not seek the Giver because of his gifts; when all gifts were removed he still sought the Giver.

For a while Job reminisces, longing for the times past when God was his friend, when he enjoyed laughter with his children and when he walked into the marketplace and was hailed with friendly greetings. It was a time when people showed him respect and when he in turn freely gave to those in need. Now he is held in contempt and bullied by the very ones who had looked up to him. This is the kind of treatment he receives for his upright life of faithfulness to his wife, fairness with his employees, and generosity to the poor.

Job and his three friends are getting nowhere in their arguments when Elihu, a young acquaintance of Job’s, enters the discussion, imagining he can set all four of them straight. He promises to teach them wisdom. Some of his words Job has heard before, but he ends his long monologue with a benediction and a plea for wisdom.

After all of this, God finally speaks from the eye of a hurricane. Here God presents a panorama of the incredible marvels of the natural world—stars, oceans, fearsome beasts. As Job contemplates these wonders, God asks him if he had anything to do with any of this. Is he the one who brought the world into being and carried it to fruition? If not, does he really think he has the right to haul God into court and press charges?

Job, after offering several long monologues, is suddenly cowed and regrets his rantings. With Job’s regrets proffered, God turns his attention to the friends. To Eliphaz he rages: “I’ve had it with you and your two friends. I’m fed up! You haven’t been honest either with me or about me—not the way my friend Job has.”[16] But God goes a step further and tells them to make an offering of seven bulls and seven rams for a burnt sacrifice. Job, who was straight and honest with God, is to oversee this burnt offering and to pray, asking God to spare them the punishment they deserve for all of their opinionated blather and phony righteousness.

God’s final act is to bless Job by giving him back twice the flocks and herds he originally possessed, plus seven more sons and three more daughters. Interestingly, there is no further information offered about the sons. The daughters alone receive dazzling publicity. They are the loveliest young women in all the East, and their names capture that beauty: Dove is the oldest; Cinnamon, the middle daughter; and Darkeyes, the youngest. And, along with their brothers, they share in their father’s inheritance.

Job lives to be an old man, an additional 140 years. He is again highly respected in the region, and family and friends come bearing gifts to congratulate him on his newfound prosperity. More than that, he enjoys family life, children, and grandchildren on to the fourth generation.

Concluding Observations

Scripture offers many details on the life of Job, but some are noticeably absent. How long is the time span of the conversations? Do they last weeks or months or more? Is the reader to assume that Job and his wife repaired any damage that might have been done to their relationship during the total obliteration of family and property? Did she work through her grief, as Job apparently did? Did she then bear him ten more children? Or are such questions entirely irrelevant to the parable-like account of this ancient righteous man of God?

Perhaps the most stunning aspect of Job’s spiritual life is that he talks back to God—at times with a palpable sense of anger and outrage. It is the apologists, his three friends, who are severely taken to task. God does not need their defense. God’s answer to the knotty questions of life appears through a display of his natural wonders.

Ezra and Nehemiah leave far fewer questions unanswered and appear almost pallid alongside Job. Not so with Vashti and Esther. They are beautiful and dynamic women—one who suffers for her strength of character, the other who is forever celebrated as the great Jewish queen of Persia who saved her people.