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Esther Invoked King Saul's Debt to Keep Haman's Body on the Gallows

When scholars objected that leaving Haman's body violated Jewish law, Esther found a precedent from Saul's unrepaid debt to the Gibeonites.

Curated by Arthur · Told by Maggid ·
Table of Contents
  1. The Legal Problem After the Victory
  2. Esther's Counterargument
  3. The Principle Esther Drew
  4. The Gallows That Were Already There

Haman was dead. His ten sons were dead. Their bodies hung on the gallows that Haman himself had built for Mordecai, fifty cubits high in the courtyard of Shushan, visible to the city. For most people this was simply the end of the story. For the scholars watching the situation, it was the beginning of a legal problem.

Deuteronomy 21:23 is explicit: the body of an executed criminal must be taken down before nightfall. Leaving a body on a tree overnight is a desecration of the dead and, the text says, an affront to God. The law did not make exceptions for especially wicked criminals. It was categorical, and the scholars knew it, and Haman's body was still hanging.

Esther's Counterargument

Esther stepped in. She did not ignore the concern or claim it did not apply. She engaged it within the tradition's own terms, because she understood that the only way to defeat a legal argument is with a better legal argument from the same sources.

She pointed to the Gibeonite episode. When Saul had wronged the Gibeonites, a people with whom Israel had a binding covenant going back to the time of Joshua, his house owed a debt that had not been repaid. God had withheld rain from the land for three years because of it. When David asked God what was wrong, the answer came back: it is on account of Saul's bloodguilt against the Gibeonites.

David arranged for seven of Saul's descendants to be handed over. The Gibeonites hanged them. And their bodies remained on public display, the tradition records, for many months, past the time that Jewish law would ordinarily have required burial. This was not a legal violation. It was a form of reparation, sanctioned by God's own response to the situation. The bodies remained to complete what Saul had left undone.

The Principle Esther Drew

Esther's argument was that the same principle applied here. Haman and his sons had not simply committed a crime. They had attempted something that belonged to the same category as Saul's act against the Gibeonites: a violation against a covenanted people, an attack on something protected. The bodies remaining on display were not a desecration. They were a form of public acknowledgment, a completion of the response that the crime required.

The Legends of the Jews records that Esther's argument from the Gibeonite precedent was accepted. Haman and his sons stayed where they were.

The Gallows That Were Already There

There is an additional detail preserved in the tradition about how the execution came to happen on those specific gallows. When Ahasuerus ordered Haman's arrest and asked what should be done, someone at court noted that the gallows were already standing in Haman's courtyard, the ones he had built for Mordecai. The king ordered Haman hanged on them immediately. The instrument Haman had prepared for Mordecai became the instrument of his own destruction. Esther Rabbah reads this inversion as the operating principle of the entire Purim story: the machinery the wicked construct is the machinery that destroys them.

EstherDivine JusticeKingsHoly LandTorah
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From the tradition

Sources

2 sources

The texts this telling draws on, in full. Open a card to read inline, or expand it for a wider, quieter read.

Legends of the Jews 12:236Legends of the Jews

In the Book of Esther, we have a pretty clear victory for the Jewish people. Haman, the wicked advisor to King Ahasuerus, is exposed and ultimately hanged on the very gallows he built for Mordecai. But the story doesn't quite end there, does it?

The Book of Esther tells us Haman's ten sons were also killed. But according to the Legends of the Jews, as retold by Ginzberg, there's more to the story of what happened to their bodies.

Apparently, Haman and his sons remained hanging for a very long time. A disturbing image, isn't it? It even bothered some people at the time. They felt it violated Jewish law. Specifically, the teaching in Deuteronomy (21:23) that says you can’t leave a body hanging on a tree overnight. It's considered a desecration, a dishonor to the deceased and to God.

So, what was the justification for this prolonged display?

Well, Esther herself stepped in. She argued, quite powerfully, that there was a precedent for this kind of thing. She pointed to the story of King Saul's descendants. Remember them? The Gibeonites had left them hanging for half a year!

Why? To sanctify God's name, to make it holy. As Ginzberg tells it, pilgrims would see the bodies and ask why they were there. The response was that they were hanged because Saul had wronged the Gibeonites. It was a public declaration of justice, of God's righteousness.

Esther then delivers a compelling argument. "How much more, then," she asks, "are we justified in permitting Haman and his family to hang, they who desired to destroy the entire house of Israel?"

Think about the weight of that statement. Haman wasn't just some petty criminal. He plotted genocide! His actions threatened the very existence of the Jewish people. Leaving his body and those of his sons on display served as a stark warning, a reminder of the consequences of such hatred and evil.

It was, in a way, a public service announcement written in the most gruesome of terms.

So, what does this all mean? It's a complex issue, isn't it? On one hand, we have the imperative to treat the dead with respect. On the other, we have the need for justice, for remembrance, and for ensuring that such horrors are never repeated. It forces us to confront difficult questions about justice, revenge, and the balance between honoring the dead and protecting the living.

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Legends of the Jews 12:220Legends of the Jews

King Ahasuerus, still clueless about Haman's true intentions, decrees, "The man who saved the life of the king deserves to have his name put on the coin of the realm. Nevertheless, these honors must thou show unto him."

The words hitting Haman like a physical blow. He tries one last, desperate plea. "Edicts and writings have been issued to all parts of the kingdom, commanding that the nation to which Mordecai belongs shall be destroyed. Recall them rather than I should do him this honor."

Ahasuerus is unmoved. "The edicts and writings shall be recalled, yet these honors must thou show unto Mordecai." Can you feel the vise tightening? Haman is caught in his own web.

Ginzberg tells us that seeing his efforts were futile, Haman finally resigned himself to the king's will. Picture him, head bowed like a mourner, making his way to the royal treasure chambers. His ears hang low, eyes are dim, mouth twisted in bitterness. His heart is hardened, his bowels are cut in pieces – quite the image! His loins weakened, and his knees are knocking together. He's a broken man, forced to enact his own humiliation.

He gathers the royal insignia, the symbols of the power he so desperately craved, and prepares to bring them to Mordecai. Harbonah and Abzur, royal officials, accompany him, ensuring that Haman carries out the king's wishes to the letter. Talk about adding insult to injury! They are there to make sure he doesn't try anything sneaky.

It's a powerful scene, isn't it? A stark reminder that even the most powerful figures can be brought low, and that sometimes, we are forced to participate in our own downfall. It also highlights the unpredictable nature of fate, and the dramatic twists and turns that characterize the story of Purim. What do you think Haman was thinking on that walk? What would YOU do in his place?

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