Esther. Estrella.
Estella. They have the same
origin—a star. A magnificent star
shines throughout Hebrew history, a bold star, bright and beautiful in its
contrast with the wide expanse of midnight in the Persian Empire. Such was Esther. Undeterred by the inky blackness of the
wicked Haman, Esther displayed scintillating courage. Unhesitatingly, she approached the throne of her husband,
knowing that his refusal could mean her death.
Some Bible scholars have wondered
what excellent character qualities could exist in a woman who joined a beauty
contest that would bring her into the king’s harem; they argue that she
wrongfully appeared before the king.
While her participation in such a pageant may not be able to be
supported biblically, one glowing aspect of her character clearly shines
forth: her submission.
Like other beautiful young women,
Esther no doubt had plans for her life, plans that probably did not include
being married to an old, angry king who had so recently divorced his queen for
her refusal to obey him amidst his drunkenness. But Esther’s humble acquiescence illustrates the very
opposite trait of the divorced Vashti.
In the exact way that Vashti had exited the king’s graces, Esther
entered. Whereas the former queen
scorned her husband’s command to display her beauty, Esther heeded her uncle’s
leadership to do just that before the king.
Such obedience graced her life,
characterized her very existence.
When Haman plotted the Jews’ destruction, Mordecai wept. But one ray of hope glimmered yet upon
the forlorn palace grounds: Esther
was queen! And as she had
submitted to her uncle’s leadership in gaining that position, even now she
yielded to his authority as she approached the throne. Would Ahasuerus extend the golden
scepter? Would she be granted
entrance into his throne room?
And when she does appear before
the king, note Esther’s characteristic carefulness. Imagine, beautiful Esther, lovely as the morning star,
entering the king’s presence. Her
silk gowns whisper as she walks, rustling with a quiet echo through the palace
hall. And then she arrives,
standing before the throne room door.
A guard opens it, surprised to see the queen. Her soft satin scarf tied about her neck glows amidst the
deeper, darker hues of the royal room.
And then she speaks, so quiet that the king does not hear. But he sees. And then the deciding moment comes. The golden scepter he holds in his
right hand—ah, there! It
acknowledges her, greets her, welcomes her warmly. But all Esther requests is the king’s presence at a
banquet.
And the next day such a scene is
similarly repeated. Like the stars
night after night so patiently illuminate the world, so Esther too demonstrates
patience. She will wait out the
king, bring him to a banquet, repeat the process, and then—at a banquet—will
explain her heart. It was at
another banquet where the king had been wroth and now again, his characteristic
temper is displayed. Haman would
be destroyed; the Jews would be allowed their liberty. And even today her book is read, this
feast is continued in Hebrew tradition.
For one bright star dared illuminate the blackness.
What other night exists for us,
her sisters of the future?
Politically, is there a cause worth defending, a darkness worth
illuminating? Christ beckons us to
be lights in the world. Paul
exhorts us to do all without murmuring and disputing, that we may be
blameless…in the midst of a crooked …nation, among whom we shine as lights in
the world”! Is there not a
cause? Then although we may not
boast Esther’s beauty or position, let us imitate her submission, her boldness
of character. Let us engage
ourselves in battle, doing “all the good we can,” in the words of John Wesley,
“to all the people we can” every day that we can.
What other nights might be
dispelled if Christian women would sense the call to become, like Esther,
bright lights amidst the darkness?
Comments