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Esther Fasts Three Days Then Walks to the King

She had not eaten in three days. The corridor narrowed toward the king's face. Behind her, Haman's silver already sat in the account.

Curated by Arthur · Told by Maggid ·
Table of Contents
  1. The Door That Could Kill Her
  2. Three Days Toward Moriah
  3. The Fathers in Her Mouth
  4. She Crossed the Line

Esther stood where the palace corridor narrowed toward the court of King Ahasuerus. Beyond that door, law waited with a blade. To enter unsummoned was to risk death.

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Behind her, in every Jewish house of Shushan, the decree of Haman already moved like smoke. Silver weighed for their destruction. Ten thousand talents offered. A people marked for a single day of knives.

She had not eaten for three days. The fast was a road she walked on her feet and in her gut.

The Door That Could Kill Her

Servants passed with trays. Guards shifted their weight. Esther's body knew the count of heartbeats between this stone and the king's face. She was ready to appear and ask for her inheritance, and readiness felt like standing on a thin board over a pit.

She asked heaven for company flesh could not see. "Send Thou an angel of compassion with me on mine errand, and let grace and favor be my companions." She did not ask for an army. She asked for a presence that could turn a king's eyes before the law finished its sentence.

Three Days Toward Moriah

"For three days have I fasted in accordance with the number of days Abraham walked to bind his son upon the altar before Thee," she said. She bound her hunger to that road. Abraham had walked three days toward Moriah with Isaac beside him. Esther walked three days of empty mouth toward a throne that could empty her people.

She put the knife scene into her prayer so heaven could not pretend it had forgotten. "The left hand of Abraham held Isaac by the throat, and his right hand grasped the knife. He willingly did Thy bidding, nor did he delay." Heaven had opened its windows then, to give space to the angels, who cried, "Woe to the world, if this thing should come to pass!"

"Thou didst promise him: whenever thy children shall be in distress, I will remember the binding of Isaac favorably unto them." She added Sinai. Three days of fast for the three camps at the mountain, priests, Levites, and Israelites, who once said they would do and hear. Her empty stomach carried both altars, Moriah and Sinai, into the Persian hall.

The Fathers in Her Mouth

She needed words that could turn a face. She asked for Jacob's charm in her mouth, the speech that had once bought peace from Esau and from an angel at a ford. She asked for Joseph's favor on her tongue, the restraint that had held him clean in a foreign house.

Above, those names had already ranked themselves by hard feats. Jacob had claimed he was greater than Moses because he wrestled an angel and prevailed. Moses had answered that Jacob fought on human ground, while he had climbed into the angels' own territory and made them fear him. Joseph had claimed he was greater for refusing his master's wife. Moses had answered that Joseph held back from a strange woman, while he held back even from his own wife in the years of prophecy.

Those rankings live in the upper court. On the palace floor Esther still needed Jacob's words and Joseph's favor for one king's ear. "May the righteousness of Abraham go before me, the binding of Isaac raise me, the charm of Jacob be put into my mouth, and the grace of Joseph upon my tongue."

Then she named the enemy. "Thou who breakest the mightiest, crush Haman, so that he may never again rise from his fall." She did not soften the ask. Haman had bought their deaths with weight of silver. She asked for a fall that would not reverse.

She turned toward the city. "Ye, all ye of Israel, pray for me as I pray in your behalf. For whatsoever a man may ask of God in the time of his distress is granted unto him." She refused a private miracle. She bound the people's prayer to her steps.

She Crossed the Line

"I also call upon Thee. Thou art called the Merciful and the Gracious. Thou art slow to anger and great in lovingkindness and truth. Hear our voice and lead us out of distress into enlargement."

The corridor did not brighten. No guard fell down. Esther finished the prayer the way a diver finishes the last breath before water. Complete, then gone. She stepped toward the court. The angel of compassion she had asked for either walked with her or did not. What moved was her body, crossing the line the law had drawn in blood.

Behind her, three days of hunger. Before her, a scepter that might rise or stay. Haman's silver still sat in the king's account. Esther's fast sat heavier. She went in.

EstherAhasuerusHamanIsaacPrayerPurim
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From the tradition

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The texts behind this telling. Some cards carry a translation of the source; others are our own retelling of it, and each card says which. Every card links out to the original.

Legends of the Jews 12:178Legends of the Jews

Retold in our words. Read the original at the link below.The Legends of the Jews by Louis Ginzberg (1909) · Public Domain

The Jewish tradition offers some pretty powerful ways to navigate those moments, drawing strength from the stories of our ancestors.

Esther, poised to enter the court of King Ahasuerus. She's about to risk everything to save her people from Haman's wicked plot. What went through her mind? The Legends of the Jews gives us a glimpse into her prayers, a raw and heartfelt plea for divine assistance.

"With an eternal bond Thou didst bind us unto Thee," she begins. It's a powerful reminder of the unbreakable covenant between God and the Jewish people. But she doesn't stop there. She evokes the memory of Isaac, who was bound – the Akedah, a story that echoes through Jewish history. "O that Thou wouldst uphold us for the sake of Isaac, who was bound."

Why Isaac? Why this particular story? It's a story of ultimate faith, of willingness to sacrifice everything for God. It’s also a story of divine intervention, of being saved at the very last moment. Remember, according to the biblical account, Haman had already offered the king ten thousand talents of silver to destroy the Jewish people. The stakes couldn’t be higher.

Esther continues, "Raise Thou our voice, and answer us, and bring us forth out of the narrow place into enlargement." This "narrow place," this mitzrayim, isn't just physical; it's a state of being, a feeling of being trapped and helpless. And her prayer is a cry for liberation, for spaciousness, for hope.

She then turns her attention to the enemy: "Thou who breakest the mightiest, crush Haman, so that he may never again rise from his fall." This isn't just a personal plea; it's a prayer for justice, for the triumph of good over evil.

Then comes a moment of pure vulnerability: "I am ready to appear before the king, to entreat grace for my inheritance." Esther is about to walk into the lion's den, and she knows it. She needs all the help she can get. "Send Thou an angel of compassion with me on mine errand, and let grace and favor be my companions."

And here’s where the power of ancestral merit comes in. "May the righteousness of Abraham go before me, the binding of Isaac raise me, the charm of Jacob be put into my mouth, and the grace of Joseph upon my tongue." She's calling upon the spiritual resources of her ancestors, asking for their virtues to guide her. It’s a recognition that we are all part of a chain, linked to those who came before us.

"Happy the man who putteth his trust in God; he is not confounded," she declares, a statement of profound faith. "He will lend me His right hand and His left hand, with which He created the whole world."

And then, a beautiful moment of communal solidarity: "Ye, all ye of Israel, pray for me as I pray in your behalf." This isn't a solo act. Esther understands the power of collective prayer, the strength that comes from shared intention. "For whatsoever a man may ask of God in the time of his distress, is granted unto him."

Esther urges them, "Let us look upon the deeds of our fathers and do like unto them, and He will answer our supplications." It's a reminder that we are not alone in our struggles. Others have faced adversity before us, and their stories can inspire us.

The prayer returns to the image of the Akedah, the binding of Isaac. "The left hand of Abraham held Isaac by the throat, and his right hand grasped the knife. He willingly did Thy bidding, nor did he delay to execute Thy command." The scene is almost unbearable in its intensity. "Heaven opened its windows to give space to the angels, who cried bitterly, and said: 'Woe to the world, if this thing should come to pass!'" According to Midrash Rabbah, the angels are deeply concerned that this sacrifice would actually occur.

Esther concludes, "I also call upon Thee! O answer me, for Thou givest ear unto all who are afflicted and oppressed." She reminds God of His own attributes, His own promises: "Thou art called the Merciful and the Gracious; Thou art slow to anger and great in lovingkindness and truth. Hear our voice and answer us, and lead us out of distress into enlargement."

Finally, she reveals a powerful act of self-discipline: "For three days have I fasted in accordance with the number of days Abraham journeyed to bind his son upon the altar before Thee." This fast is a symbolic reenactment of Abraham's journey, a way of connecting to his faith and his willingness to sacrifice. "Thou didst make a covenant with him, and didst promise him: 'Whenever thy children shall be in distress, I will remember the binding of Isaac favorably unto them, and deliver them out of their troubles.'"

And one last echo: "Again, I fasted three days corresponding to the three classes Israel, priests, Levites, and Israelites, who stood at the foot of Sinai, and said: 'All the Lord hath spoken will we do, and be obedient.'" She links her own actions to the moment of national covenant at Sinai, where the Jewish people committed themselves to following God's law.

Esther's prayer is a masterclass in faith, courage, and the power of ancestral memory. We have the stories of our ancestors to guide us, the strength of community to support us, and the promise of divine compassion to sustain us. So, the next time you find yourself in a "narrow place," remember Esther's words, remember the binding of Isaac, and remember that you, too, have the power to call upon the resources of your tradition.

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Legends of the Jews 7:93Legends of the Jews

Retold in our words. Read the original at the link below.The Legends of the Jews by Louis Ginzberg (1909) · Public Domain

The rabbis certainly debated it, comparing and contrasting the merits of our most revered patriarchs and prophets. And wouldn't you know it, the discussions could get a little… spicy.

Take this exchange, for instance, recounted in Legends of the Jews by Louis Ginzberg. Jacob, he of wrestling-an-angel fame, boasts to Moses, “I am greater than thou, for I wrestled with the angel and conquered him.”

Moses, never one to back down from a challenge, retorted, “Thou didst wrestle with the angel upon thy territory, but I mounted to the angels into their own territory, and still they feared me." Ouch.

The comparisons didn't stop there. Joseph, famed for his righteousness in the face of Potiphar's wife's advances, chimed in: "I am greater than thou, for my master's wife could not tempt me to sin."

Moses, ever the diplomat, responded: "Still am I superior to thee, for thou didst restrain thyself from a strange woman, whereas I abstained from intercourse with my own wife."

Now, what’s going on here? Are they really trying to one-up each other? It's important to remember that these aren't literal historical accounts, but midrashim (rabbinic interpretive commentary) – interpretations and expansions of the biblical text designed to teach us valuable lessons. What can we learn from this particular debate?

The rabbis use these comparisons to highlight Moses' unparalleled stature. Ginzberg, drawing on various sources, continues by illustrating how Moses' achievements surpassed even those of the most righteous figures.

Consider Adam. He succumbed to the serpent's temptation, leading to mortality. But Moses? He fashioned a bronze serpent (Nehushtan), which, when looked upon, healed those bitten by snakes (Numbers 21:4-9). A remedy for the very thing that felled humanity's first man.

Or take Noah. He offered a sacrifice that was accepted by God, but he wasn’t invited into God’s presence. Moses, however, when offering sacrifices on behalf of Israel, received the divine promise: “Know that twice daily I shall dwell with ye.” A direct, constant connection.

Even Abraham, the patriarch whose covenant with God is foundational to Judaism, isn’t spared. Abraham's question, "'Whereby shall I know that I shall inherit 'the land?'" (Genesis 15:8) was, according to the rabbis, the cause for Israel's bondage in Egypt, a punishment for his lack of complete faith. Moses, on the other hand, delivered Israel from that very bondage.

And what about Jacob's famous wrestling match? Yes, he prevailed, but the angel’s blow dislocated his thigh. Moses, by contrast, inspired such awe in the angels that they fled at his very presence.

So, is Moses definitively "greater"? Well, that's not really the point, is it? The rabbis aren't interested in creating a hierarchy. Instead, they're using these comparisons to illuminate different aspects of greatness, to highlight the unique contributions of each figure, and ultimately, to underscore the immense respect and reverence they held for Moses, our teacher, our leader, the one who spoke to God face to face.

Perhaps the real takeaway is that greatness isn't a competition. Each of these figures, from Adam to Moses, played a vital role in the unfolding story of the Jewish people. And each of them, in their own way, continues to inspire us today.

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