November 14, 2021 “For Just Such a Time as This” – Esther 4:1-17

Esther 4:1-17 (Chronicles pp. 149, 150)
“For Just Such a Time as This”
November 14, 2021 – Twenty-fifth Sunday after Pentecost

Someone set a fire Wednesday evening on the porch of St. Mark’s Christian Methodist Episcopal Church. Because that congregation has a Black pastor and mostly Black members, police are investigating the possibility it was a hate crime. So perhaps it won’t happen to our building. We might have ignored it, and gone about our own worship today without doing or saying anything. But we might be a bit haunted by Mordecai’s words to Esther in the text I just read. Let me paraphrase: “Do not think that because you are white and in a safe neighborhood that you will escape when others are hated and persecuted.”

The biblical book of Esther is strange. It nowhere explicitly mentions God. It’s full of political plots and violence, perpetrated not just by pagan devotees of other gods, but by Jewish people themselves. Its heroine seems unlikely, not so much a quiet, humble woman of faith, but the brash and bold winner of a royal beauty contest, the king’s favorite concubine from a harem.

Some conservative biblical scholars will admit there may be exaggeration and even satire happening in the story of Esther. The description of King Xerxes’ lavish parties and his interaction with his wife Queen Vashti seems calculated to make this ancient ruler seem both foolish and petulantly vindictive.

Yet Esther’s act of bravery, which saved Jewish people dispersed around the Persian empire, has been celebrated through the ages ever since. Purim is the name of the festival. It comes from the Hebrew word for casting lots. On page 148, at the beginning of chapter 3, Haman the enemy of the Jews cast lots to decide when the best day was to attack them. That day in March, which Haman intended to be their destruction, became a joyful holiday of feasting, exchanging gifts, and helping the poor in thanks to God for their deliverance. It will be March 16 and 17 next spring.

Haman’s plot against Jewish people was a clear case of racism, specifically what we now call anti-Semitism. There on page 148, chapter 3 verse 8, he singles out Hebrew people as a race and builds up King Xerxes’ fear of them, highlighting their differences and suggesting that they are not law abiding. That last bit was false, but it is exactly the same rhetoric used in recent years and even before that to generate fear of immigrants and others in our own country.

The irony is the very live possibility that people of God may at some point refuse to obey unjust laws of any country in which they live in order to honor the Law of God. That’s what some Americans did when they helped slaves escape to the north before and during the Civil War. That’s what the peaceful protests of Martin Luther King, Jr. did in order to make a case for civil rights and voting rights in the 1960s.

Yet that willingness to disobey human law in favor of higher divine law has been used down through the ages to cast both Jews and faithful Christians in a negative light, to claim that they are actually lawless. The same thing is also done to faithful Muslims today, claiming falsely that they wish to establish Sharia law here and ignore American law.

Haman’s lies and fear almost succeeded. He made the king afraid of Jews. In addition, he gave a huge sum of money to the king to carry out genocidal plans to eradicate Jews from Persia. Haman was a lobbyist. His bribe worked. An edict was issued, a law was created, and plans were put in place to kill men, women and children that next spring.

It’s at that point, the announcement of Haman’s horrific plot against Jewish people, that we begin to see the point of everything that has gone before in the story: Queen Vashti’s rebellion against her husband’s lechery, Esther’s participation in the royal beauty contest and subsequent place in the king’s bed and heart, and Esther’s uncle Mordecai’s connections and prevention of a plot against King Xerxes.

Both Esther and the book of Daniel, which we began last week and will finish this week, teach us that behind the scenes of our lives and of our world, God is at work. He may not be noticed or mentioned as in Esther. But we read on page 162, chapter 2 in Daniel, that God sets up and knocks down countries and leaders of this world. The ultimate goal is the kingdom of God, not any of the nations of the world, including our own.

So completely behind the curtain in the book of Esther, not even named, God moves all the chess pieces into place for a brilliant checkmate of evil there in Persia. Not only does the divine hand move Esther into place in the palace and her uncle to a position nearby, He lures their opponent Haman into overreaching his own position and giving away the evil he is plotting. Like the chess grandmaster God is, He even protects the king, while setting up the board so that king will play a key role in winning the game for God’s people.

In chess the queen is the most valuable piece on the board. So one of the most daring moves is a queen sacrifice. The master chess player puts his queen in danger in order to catch his opponent off guard, to lay a trap that will spring shut just as the other player thinks he has won the game. Here at the direction of Mordecai, Esther was moved to a square where she might be lost. That’s the move I read about today.

Previously, Mordecai directed his niece to keep her background as a Jew secret. She entered the king’s palace and became his favorite, maintaining silence about her ethnic identity. But now, relaying messages to her through one of the royal eunuchs who guarded the harem, Mordecai tells her to break that silence. About two thirds down page 149, verse 8 in chapter 4, Mordecai sent a message through the eunuch Hathach (they didn’t have cell phones for texting then), “to direct her to go to the king to beg for mercy and plead for her people.” The time has come for her to quit hiding who she really is.

Esther’s message back to Mordecai explains the is hitch in that plan. She’s not going to just be able to sweet talk the king in bed that night. He has not sent for her in thirty days. Maybe he is getting bored with her, maybe he’s moved on to other girls in the harem. She might not be able to influence Xerxes at all. In fact, going to him to do so would put her very life in danger.

Outside the Bible, the writings of the Greek historian Herodotus about the same time as Esther confirm that the Persian kings did in fact have a rule like the one Esther explained to Mordecai. Upon pain of death, no one was allowed to come unbidden into the royal presence. If someone did so, the only hope was that the king would hold out his scepter in a gesture of mercy and allow that person to live and to speak. So Esther feared for her life if she were to do what her uncle asked.

Mordecai’s “text” back to Esther begins with that warning I paraphrased at the beginning of this sermon, “Don’t think for a moment that because you’re in the palace you will escape when all other Jews are killed.” As I suggested, it’s a warning to anyone, to any of us who imagine we may safely ignore the suffering and even death of others around us and remain secure in our little bubbles of privilege or financial stability.

That warning from Mordecai is followed by what may be the biggest hint of the activity of God behind the scenes. He sent these words to her, “If you keep quiet at a time like this, deliverance and relief for the Jews will arise from some other place…” Mordecai was convinced God would save His people. If Esther failed to participate, the Lord would make other arrangements. “But,” says her uncle, “you and your relatives will die.”

In an article in The New York Times at Purim in 2020, just as the pandemic was beginning, Rabbi Meir Soloveichik wrote that Esther reminds us how fragile the Jewish position has been down through the ages. The worst anti-Semitic plot happened not in Bible times but in the twentieth century. And, says Rabbi Soloveichik, “The Purim tale reminds us that a government, and the society it oversees, can turn against its most vulnerable in a matter of moments.” Those of God’s people who enjoy relative safety and privilege, like Esther did, ought to be ready to stand with those who are vulnerable and at risk, whoever they might be, even at great risk to ourselves.

As Christians, our acceptance of risk to ourselves on behalf of others is based not just on the examples of biblical heroes like Esther or on more recent examples like the veterans we remembered this week. Ultimately, our example and source of courage for risking our security, our well-being, even our lives for those in need is the divine One Himself who did so for us all. We worship Jesus, who did not stay safe on His royal throne in heaven, but who came down into our dangerous and evil world to not just risk His life but to give it for you and for me and for everyone caught in sin and slavery to the forces of evil.

When Advent begins in two weeks, we will observe it around the theme, “The Fullness of Time.” It’s a phrase from Galatians 4:4, which says, “But when the fullness of time had come, God sent forth his Son…” Jesus came to save us when it was time, at the time when He was needed, at the time God had planned. The story of Esther teaches that for each of us there are also full times, times when you and I have to choose whether or not we will join in what God is doing or stand aside and let events and His plan for the world pass us by.

At the bottom of page 149, in verse 14, the last sentence of Mordecai’s final message to Esther that day was, “Who knows if perhaps you were made queen for just such a time as this?” “Such a time as this…” I’m convinced that phrase, that call to action, applies at some point to each of us. Over the last two years, most of us have either said or nodded our heads as someone else said that we have never seen such a time as this, a time of pandemic, a time of racial reckoning, a time of political division, a time of poverty and homelessness on our own streets. If that’s true, then perhaps you and I must ask if our own positions of relative wealth, security, and privilege were not given to us for “just such a time as this.”

In our reading from Mark 13, Jesus warned us of tumultuous, dangerous times. We’re to expect them. Our first thought as Christians might be just as He said, that He will soon be here to rescue us out of it all. But He went on to explain to His disciples then and to us now that such hopes for immediate and spectacular deliverance are false hopes. There will be many who come using Jesus’ name, even pretending to be Him. But an easy out from this world and its suffering is not what the real Jesus offers. Instead He does just what God did with Esther and Mordecai. He puts us right in the midst of all the troubles of this present time and asks us to rise and act for Him on behalf of those around us.

Esther’s challenge for us may be in how we respond to some events of the last two years. Will we stand and say “Black lives matter” with Black sisters and brothers, or will we be silent in order to maintain relationship with those who, for whatever reasons, find that affirmation of black lives offensive? Will we speak out against political forces that abuse and criminalize migrants seeking asylum in this country, or will we ignore what happens to vulnerable people at our southern border so as to insure our own security? Will we advocate for vaccination and mask-wearing to protect the elderly, the immuno-compromised, and the children in our midst, or will we let an uneasy “unity” and “liberty” take precedence over vulnerable people and even over the common good of us all?

There will be other ways God calls you personally to be like Esther, to be like Jesus in putting the welfare of others over your own personal comfort and safety. I don’t know just what those might be, but I’d like to make some suggestions to you for specific action you might take this week in order to respond to where God has put you, “for just such a time as this.”

Let’s begin by looking at what the characters in this Bible story did, there at the top of page 150, verses 15 to 17. First, Esther asked Mordecai and all the Jewish community of Susa “to fast for me. Do not eat or drink for three days, night or day.” She and her maids would do the same. Then let’s interpret those actions by asking ourselves where you and I might fit in that story, which of the characters we might be in our own time.

Once again, the specific faith component is omitted. Esther doesn’t say “fast and pray,” but that’s clearly what she means. So consider taking your place in this story this week through a time, whether day or a single meal, of fasting and prayer for someone. Maybe for the people of St. Mark church as they face racist threats. Maybe for Johnny in Haiti as he risks his life to finish his studies and be with the people he serves there. Maybe for someone else who stands up for God against evil in this world. Be a Mordecai, be a member of the community of God’s people who act through sacrificial prayer.

Next, consider if you are to be an Esther. She told Mordecai that if he and the other Jews would fast for her, “then, though it is against the law, I will go in to see the king.” I don’t know if it’s necessary for you to break the law in protest, but think about whether God is asking you to speak out to someone in power on behalf of those who are threatened and at risk. Maybe write a letter or attend a City Council meeting on behalf of unhoused people. Maybe write to a senator or congressman on behalf of immigrants. Maybe even write to the president on behalf of those who lack basic medical care. I’m simply asking you to ponder whether the time is such for you to be like Esther, like Jesus.

Finally, though, I’d ask you to mull over the disturbing thought that your and my role in this story might not be who or what we think it is at first. Last year reading the prophets I asked whether America might in fact not be so much like the conquered and captured Jewish people and really more like the evil empire of Babylon, which took people from their own land and made them slaves in a foreign country. So now I ask us to think about whether we, in this story, might be more like King Xerxes or even a horrible Haman, rather than a wise Mordecai or a brave Esther.

It’s uncomfortable, but let’s examine our own hearts for tendencies to hate and fear those who are not like us. Let’s admit it if we have wanted certain people not to live in our neighborhood or even in our state or country. Let’s ask if we have branded others because of race or ethnicity or religion as people who don’t belong, who don’t deserve, who just don’t need any extra help or consideration. Then, let’s try to be more like the repentant Xerxes than like Haman, to let our hearts and minds be softened and changed. Let us see those around us in a new light, in the light of Jesus who sacrificed Himself not just for us but for the whole world.

The good news of Jesus Christ is that there is blessed and gracious forgiveness when we acknowledge the truth about our feelings toward others and confess that sin. There is also the gift of Jesus’ love to transform us into people who stand with the poor and oppressed instead of against them. Let us receive that forgiveness and love right now. Again, this Advent we will remember that Jesus came and still comes to us at “a time just such as this.” By His grace and in His love, may you and I be ready “for just such a time as this.”

Amen.