Queen Esther, the original stateswoman of conscience

To prepare for the Canadian election, did you ever consider Bible study as one way to inform your conscience?

The book of Esther tells an amazing true story, as well as perennial principles that can help guide your conscience in dicey situations.

In Chapter 1, Xerxes, the King of Persia, banishes Queen Vashti. This action sets the stage for the ascendant political fortunes of, first, our hero Esther, who will become the new queen, and then the evil Haman.

In his interaction with Vashti, Xerxes shows he is a typical tyrant – someone who rules guided mainly by bodily appetites, and therefore despotically.

In his lectures on Politics, the Greek philosopher Aristotle describes the rule of a master over slaves as “despotic.”

There can be a despotic master within an individual household, such as in Aristotle’s time when Greeks owned slaves. Aristotle contrasts this type of household rule with the “constitutional” relationship he says exists naturally between husband and wife.

Interestingly, this suggests how, for Aristotle, the egalitarian model of Greek democracy’s debates in its political assembly may find its exemplar in the ideal of a model marriage. Anyone who has something to say is allowed to speak!

In any case, the book of Esther shows Xerxes to be deficient in Greek democratic deliberation within his marriage relationship. In his quarrel with Vashti, he consults with the elder statesmen of his realm about how to handle Vashti’s refusal to participate in an elaborate parade Xerxes wants to make of his power, wealth, and dominance.
Xerxes’ ridiculous scheme seeks to tie his subjects in a double bind. He wants to throw an insanely opulent party where he can show off Vashti to everyone.

The obvious goal with his rivals is to incite their sexual envy, but just enough to display his dominance. His proud display of Vashti would serve up an implicit humiliation of any rival who would dare dream to possess his queen – something that is impossible, except if you’re the king.

Vashti’s refusal to go along with this stupid and dangerous political game quickly leads to Xerxes receiving bad advice from the uncomfortable statesmen.

Their obvious aim is to flatter the king’s ego. They recommend that he nullify Vashti’s status as queen in order to make a totally despotic display of his male dominance.

In Chapter 2, Esther will become Xerxes’ new bride. We should credit this ambiguous royal match (Xerxes is no catch) not simply to her beauty, or even to her ability (on the advice of her uncle Mordecai) to hide her Jewish origins.

More importantly, with unusual maturity, Esther shows herself thoughtful enough to defer to the interests of the unfortunate eunuch assigned to provide Xerxes with candidates for a new queen.

Clearly, the eunuch has been tasked with a dangerous and greatly hazardous occupation, because he will no doubt feel the king’s lethal wrath if the king is unhappy.

Rather than supply the king with any woman whom the king might deem (as with Vashti) to be humiliating him in any way, the eunuch rightly favours the prudent Esther and makes her the clear frontrunner. Consequently, Esther becomes the new queen.

But with the rise of Esther, we also witness the unintended rise of Haman, whom the king entrusts with a serious political problem. Esther helps foil the plot of some envious enemies of the king, yet this conspiracy against him quickly leads the king to entrust Haman with unusual power.

No doubt the king’s fears are justified. He himself has created the vivid problem of his envious rivals. Xerxes has already shown he wants to tie all his subjects in a double bind: envy me, but don’t challenge me.

Because the tyrant desires to be the object of supreme envy, the only political solution for his own safety is a totalitarian police state. But, in Chapter 3, we see Mordecai fatefully refuse to bow down before Haman, who has become the symbol of Xerxes’ intensified authoritarian rule.

Mordecai refuses to submit because it would be idolatry to give recognition to any totalitarian political system. Such politics exalts its ruler into being a god. It thereby leaves no room for the one true God.

Mordecai’s action makes an implicit declaration: resisting idolatry is what makes you faithful. Mordecai honours God.

Mordecai’s refusal of idolatry kicks off the story’s central struggle. And people of faith are perennially confronted with similar political dilemmas. Guided by conscience and principled action, will people of faith prevail?

I won’t spoil the ending, but I will suggest that Esther’s 10 exciting chapters are required reading for any voter trying to discern how best to follow one’s conscience in politically difficult times.