Bible Commentaries

Esther 4:16).

Here is fasting by consent of parties. Those who were outside the palace were required to fast as if instead of, or along with, Esther 5:8).

This charioteer must keep her team well in hand. God may visit her in the night visions, and show her somewhat of her purpose: who can tell whether God will not also visit the king in the night season and commune with him from heaven?

The one man who was pleased with the arrangements which were proposed was Haman—"Then went Haman forth that day joyful and with a glad heart" Everything was now bright before him; not a cloud hung upon the horizon; not a moan of wind could be heard in the tranquil air. Haman had simply to walk along a path of roses to a throne of gold. Everything seemed to be delivered over to his hand. He was as one standing in the harvest-field, who had only to thrust in his sickle that he might carry away sheaves of joy. It was indeed a thrilling moment in the experience of Haman. Surely it is something to have the whole world given into one's arms, to wear it as a jewel, play with it as a toy, use it as an investment, sit upon it as a throne, and in short do what one pleases with so huge a treasure. This was the spirit in which Hainan went forth that day. Yet even in this history there occurs the suggestive word "but"; so we read:

"But when Haman saw Mordecai in the king's gate, that he stood not up, nor moved for him, he was full of indignation against Mordecai" ( Esther 5:9).

Probably Mordecai was himself wrong in this instance; he might have stood up, or in some way he might have moved, in recognition of one so officially great. There is no need to excuse rudeness on the part of any man. Mordecai was probably rude, and by so much is to be condemned. Who could have thought that so slight an incident would have troubled so vast an enjoyment? Yet it did so. We have all had experience of this same emotion in human life. Little things that are awkward spoil great things that are pleasant. "Haman refrained himself," for after all the advantages preponderated over the disadvantages, and arrangements had been made for bringing vengeance upon the head of Mordecai and his people. To this height of magnanimity did Haman rise! Then came Haman's interview with his wife.

"Haman... called for his friends, and Zeresh his wife. And Haman told them of the glory of his riches, and the multitude of his children, and all the things wherein the king had promoted him, and how he had advanced him above the princes and servants of the king. Haman said moreover, Yea, Esther the queen did let no man come in with the king unto the banquet that she had prepared but myself; and tomorrow am I invited unto her also with the king" ( Esther 5:10-12).

This is the speech of a selfish man. Everything turns upon what had been done to himself, and upon what he proposed himself to do. At this moment Haman may be regarded as the very incarnation of selfishness. Let us look steadily at the picture, and see whether we should like to exchange places with this man. The temptation would indeed be great were the offer made to us; at the same time it may be possible to see far enough into this hateful selfishness to make us hesitate whether we should accept his position were the opportunity convenient. Haman's subjects were all little ones—"the glory of his riches—the multitude of his children, the things wherein the king had promoted him, and how he had advanced him above the princes and servants of the king;" not a single great thought, not one dream of human love, not one purpose of human deliverance; the man counts his wealth like a miser; numbers his jewels one by one, takes each up, looks at it in the light of the sun, and sets it down again with a murmur of self-gratulation. It was a poor mean life. Haman the miser is Haman the misanthropist. A man who can thus content himself with external treasures and passing honours is perfectly qualified to drive away from his path every enemy, even though he be called upon to commit murder itself. Nothing will stand in the way of the selfish man when his will is once set upon the accomplishment of a base purpose. Even at this point Mordecai was a shadow upon Haman's glory.

"Yet all this availeth me nothing, so long as I see Mordecai the Jew sitting at the king's gate" ( Esther 5:13).

Now the disadvantages preponderated over the advantages. A living enemy may one day become an almighty foe. Mordecai is powerless enough to-day, but so long as his root is in the earth there is a possibility that he may grow and become strong. Something therefore must be done to rid the earth of this plague. Zeresh came to the rescue, saying:

"Let a gallows be made of fifty cubits high, and tomorrow speak thou unto the king that Mordecai may be hanged thereon: then go thou in merrily with the king unto the banquet" ( Esther 5:14).

"Use thy high privileges for the sake of getting rid of thine enemies, and walk over the body of a dead foe like a hero who has conquered, and go into the feast and make thyself glad with wine." The idea was pleasant to Haman; having an abundance of resources, he commanded the gallows to be made instantly. Is there not a gnawing worm in the heart of every joy? Is there not a Mordecai in the way of every ambitious man? We cannot have all things exactly our own way; there is one nail we cannot extract, one lock we cannot undo, one gate we cannot open, one claim we cannot pacify. In every path there would seem to be a deep gaping grave which even mountains cannot fill up; we throw great hills into that grave, and behold the hills sink in the abyss, and the grave remains wide open still. How near are some men to perfect bliss! If but one thorn could be extracted, then the men themselves would be safe in heaven; but that one thorn abides to remind them of their limitations, and to sting them with a useful sense of disappointment. But there is another woman now engaged in the drama. Esther is working at one end, and Zeresh is working at the other. Yet the battle of life is not conducted by human agents only: all hearts are in the hands of God, and all events are elements which he works into the web of his providence. Where the duel is between two human creatures, its issue might be death; but there is no clash of arms, no moral conflict, in which God himself does not take part. We must wait, therefore, to see how events come to explain the mystery of processes.

Now we come to what may be termed a mysterious spiritual action. We read of that action in the sixth chapter, which thus opens:

"On that night could not the king sleep, and he commanded to bring the book of records of the chronicles; and they were read before the king." ( Esther 6:1).

Why could not the king sleep? Why did the king's sleep flee away? We may attempt to trace this to physical causes, and satisfy ourselves with secondary explanations: the religious mind is not content with such suggestions: the spiritual man has no difficulty whatever in recognising the action of God in all the events of life, even in so trivial an instance as the sleeplessness of the king. Did not the king sleep well the night before? For many a night indeed he may have been sleeping well, but we now come to a point of time,—"that night,"—that particular, special, memorable night,—that night sleep seemed to have fled from the earth, and the darkness was turned into the light of day. Is God working? Is some great visit about to be paid to a human mind? These are questions which bring with them mystery, whether we look upon them from a physical or from a spiritual point of view. The exceptional circumstances of life should always be regarded as having a possibly religious significance. To speak of them as if they were but part of a great commonplace is to degrade them, and to lose all the advantage which might accrue from a right recognition of their import. That night! We have already had occasion to remark upon the wonders which God accomplishes in the nighttime. God could come by day; he could come in the early morning; he could hold the sun in the heavens until he had fought out the battle with man; but it pleases him to come forth under the cover of the clouds, and to walk as if stealthily in the silence of night, that he may commune with men with the greatest advantage. The king "could not" sleep. The words "could not" occur rather significantly in such a connection as this. Remember the power of the king; the man who could not sleep was "Ahasuerus which reigned from India even unto Ethiopia, over an hundred and seven and twenty provinces." Yet this Ahasuerus could not sleep! This is the man who "made a feast unto all his princes and his servants; the power of Persia and Media, the nobles and princes of the provinces, being before him: when he showed the riches of his glorious kingdom and the honour of his excellent majesty many days, even an hundred and fourscore days." Yet this Esther 6:2).

Thus there is a resurrection of good works. Things are done and forgotten, and men never suppose that they will come up again; yet after many days they are vivified, and history begins to take up the thread where it was dropped. The plot of the chamberlains "was known to Mordecai, who told it unto Esther the queen; and Esther certified the king thereof in Mordecai's name. And when inquisition was made of the matter, it was found out; therefore they were both hanged on a tree: and it was written in the book of the chronicles before the king." Now the king's conscience was touched, or his sense of justice; so said Esther 6:4).

Thus there are two men as well as two women engaged in this plot—the king and Esther 6:7-9).

That is all that Haman would have done! He meant himself to be the hero of the hour, and this was the little and modest programme which he drew up! He must have been speaking generously for a rival or a friend, for surely there could be no taint of selfishness in so large a scheme! Fix upon Haman's answer as showing what man would do for himself if he could. We may study ourselves by studying others. Every human heart should be a looking-glass in which we see ourselves. Haman's answer did not displease the king; on the contrary, the king was ready to fall in with the generous suggestion. But did ever thunderbolt fall more suddenly from heaven than fell this answer upon the ears of Haman?

"Then the king said to Haman, Make haste, and take the apparel and the horse, as thou hast said, and do even so to Mordecai the Jew, that sitteth at the king's gate: let nothing fail of all that thou hast spoken" ( Esther 6:10).

Is not life a series of surprises? Is not the moment of highest ambition often next the moment of saddest humiliation? "Pride goeth before destruction, and a haughty spirit before a fall." Haman had been lifted up to heaven by his own vanity: how awful to drop then into the abyss of shame! But the word of Ahasuerus did not admit of contention. Eastern kings were not accustomed to be argued with: they knew nothing of the eloquence of remonstrance. It was as much as Haman's head was worth to offer one single word of opposition to the will of the king.

"Then took Hainan the apparel and the horse, and arrayed Mordecai, and brought him on horseback through the street of the city, and proclaimed before him, Thus shall it be done unto the man whom the king delighteth to honour" ( Esther 6:11).

Truly it would be curious to analyse Hainan's feelings at this moment! Could he believe that what he was doing was a reality: was it not rather a hideous nightmare to be shaken off by some violent effort? Had Haman been doing all this unconsciously, leading up almost to the coronation of the man whom he hated most? Again and again we see that we cannot tell what we are doing. Haman went home a sad-hearted Esther 6:13-14).

A banquet without a blessing, a feast without satisfaction, glaring pomp and circumstances that mocked the eyes that had looked upon their own humiliation. These are the ironies of life, which plague and perplex the heart and vex the imagination. Haman would rather have been in the wilderness, crying aloud in solitude to relieve himself of pain of heart It is cruel to be forced to go to a feast when the heart is in a mood of sadness. "He that seeketh his life shall lose it." Let all ambitious men read the story of Haman, and take warning. His story may not be repeated in its Oriental details, all the flash and colour may be wanting; yet, even when they have vanished, there remains enough in the tale to remind us that we too are ambitious, that we too may have ignoble thoughts towards our fellow-men, and that even we are not above resorting to the foulest practices to get rid of the Mordecai who stands in our way as a stumbling-block. Will it be regarded as commonplace or as trite, if here we venture once more to say, Beware of jealousy: it is cruel as the grave; it poisons every feast, it turns every goblet of wine into a fountain of poison: check it at its very beginning; better die to live than live to die.