Sermon, Esther 8-9-10

Sermon Esther 8-9-10                        7-14-19

The Jewish holiday Purim celebrates that Queen Esther intervened

in Haman’s evil plot to destroy the Jews,

saving them from total extermination.

The Purim celebration embraces the “carnival” nature of the story,

a parallel of extravagant, over-the-top Mardi Gras revelry

before the somber season of Lent begins.

Jewish tradition does not observe Lent, of course,

but Purim is a day, or two, of celebrating life,

setting aside the cares of the world,

pretending to be something fantastic.

The first time I attended a Purim celebration at a temple,

the rabbi was dressed as a teenage mutant ninja turtle.

At Purim, the entire book of Esther is read,

with listeners booing every time Haman is mentioned

and cheering every time they hear the name “Esther”.

It is a celebration of life, of victory,

of the good Esther triumphing over the evil Haman,

of God’s people being saved once again from destruction.

Among all the memories of times when Jewish people were enslaved,

persecuted, or slaughtered,

Purim is a reminder that God does save God’s people.

And yet--there are still victims of this evil plot,

for it is turned on its head, and its architects become its victims. 

Yes, Esther and her people are spared, but they are allowed to defend

themselves from their enemies and anyone who would attack them.

Haman’s entire family is executed and put on display.

Throughout the land people die because of this decree,

those who were scheduled for extermination exterminating others.

There are 2 things to remember here:

This is a story, told generation by generation to remember that

the Jews live because of the bold actions of one queen.

That is something to celebrate, indeed,

but there is no historical corroboration for the event.

The details of the story are not necessarily the point.

Second, the story is located in a time, place, and situation

very different from our own.

I can barely imagine what it would be like to live

as a stranger in a strange land,

with people who don’t trust or like me because of my ethnicity, 

with a government that creates schemes to wipe out

large segments of the population.

I don’t know what it’s like to be in a war zone, or to be captive or

enslaved, or to have my life in danger because I love God.

So I realize there may be things about this story I just can’t translate

 to what I know living in northern Wisconsin in the 21^st century.

And yet—this isn’t *just* a story, and not just *any* story.

It’s a sacred story. It’s in the Bible.

So whether or not it actually happened just this way, it carries truth,

which makes it a powerful story.

And the power of the story can be, and has been, misused.

I was appalled to learn that Good Friday can be a very bloody day

of violence, when some Christians who love Jesus attack Jewish neighbors, 

holding them responsible for Jesus’ death.

The same is true at Purim, when some Jewish people find permission

to attack their “enemies”.

How can the taking of life ever be godly behavior?

Some will excuse God from the story or the blame;

since God is not named in this book,

the slaughter of the enemies is not a divine command…

…But it’s still a story in the Bible,

and people will do what they want with it.

In our lifetimes we have seen genocide all around the world,

and sometimes the tables turn

and the oppressed become the oppressors.

So what do we do with these tacked-on chapters, 

the happy ending to Esther’s story and explanation for Purim?

It’s good as a fairy tale—the heroes win and evil is vanquished.

Harry Potter, Star Wars, all the Disney classics have a twist at the end

to let the right prevail.

But when we who read this story are not Jewish,

it’s harder to celebrate the “happy” ending.

We like to read Esther’s story because she’s a woman who freed her

people from death, like a biblical Wonder Woman.

But we can’t leave the story in history.

There are people in our world, our country, our state, even our town,

who need Esther,

who need someone to speak truth in the face of evil,

to offer hope to their suffering,

to bring God into places where it’s hard to find God.

The story reminds us that we can do that kind of work.

It reminds us that God is on the side of good.

It reminds us that retaliatory violence is energy

for a cycle of violence that never leads to life.

And it reminds us that we are in a place and time

to use who we are and the gifts God has given us

to bring God into the story we are living,

to embody the promise and life of God for others.

The feast of Purim celebrates that Esther intervened to save her people,

at risk to her own life.

And that is the lesson of the story, I think.

The ending is troubling, but I don’t think it’s the point.

Esther is placed in the palace, perhaps by chance,

perhaps by divine inspiration, and in that position she saves lives. 

We cannot ignore the massacre at the end of the story,

because we see it happening in the world around us, still.

And we know people will use God as an excuse

for their violence and their death-dealing policies

because this and other sacred stories seem to condone that violence in the name of God.

But God is still the God of life,

working through creation for new life, all the time.

There are people all over the world who, like Esther,

were born “for such a time as this”,

using their influence and their power to intervene

in systems of injustice and death.

If one person, who is unknown throughout the rest of scripture

except to appear in her own story—

if Esther can make such a difference in the world, then so can we. 

As people of faith who are blessed by God’s life, love, forgiveness,

peace, joy, and promise, we can use those blessings

to uncover life in the midst of death,

to offer hope to despair and reconciliation to brokenness.

We who know these gifts of God can carry them in turn to others,

so they will know the love and mercy of God here and now,

in their own story.  

Amen.