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Esther Finished the War With Amalek Moses Had Started

Moses began the war with Amalek at Rephidim. Saul failed to end it. A thousand years later, an orphan in a Persian palace finished what they left undone.

Curated by Arthur · Told by Maggid ·
Table of Contents
  1. The Battle That Never Fully Ended
  2. The Orphan in the Palace
  3. Mordecai's Dream and What It Showed
  4. The Three Days and What Followed

The Battle That Never Fully Ended

At Rephidim, just after the Exodus, Amalek attacked from behind, targeting the weak and the exhausted at the rear of the Israelite column. Moses stood on the hill with his arms raised and Israel prevailed; when his arms dropped, Amalek prevailed. Aaron and Hur held his arms up through the long afternoon until the battle was decided. God's declaration afterward was absolute: war with Amalek in every generation, the memory of Amalek to be blotted out entirely.

Centuries later, God gave Saul the command to complete what Moses had started. Saul went out with an army, destroyed the Amalekite forces, and then stopped. He spared Agag, the Amalekite king. That sparing was the failure that cost Saul his throne. And from Agag's survival, the tradition traces a direct genealogical line to Haman the Agagite, the man who would later stand in the court of Ahasuerus and request a decree to kill every Jew in the Persian Empire.

The unfinished business of Rephidim had returned. What Saul had left alive at the order of a king had grown into a man who would attempt a second total elimination of Israel. The thread that connected Moses's battle on the hill to Esther in the palace ran through a single surviving king and his descendants.

The Orphan in the Palace

Esther was an orphan. Both parents had died before she came of age, and her cousin Mordecai had raised her as his own daughter. She had no political standing, no powerful family, no natural protection in the court she found herself in. When Ahasuerus removed Vashti and the search for a new queen began, Mordecai put Esther forward and kept her Jewish identity secret.

The Chronicles of Jerahmeel, a twelfth-century Hebrew chronicle that preserved much older material, describes what Esther did when Mordecai brought her the news of Haman's decree. She stripped off her royal garments. She clothed herself in sackcloth. She disheveled her hair and covered her head with ashes and fell on her face in prayer. She called herself an orphan in a foreign palace, begging mercy from one window to another, from one gate to another. The queen who would walk into the king's presence uninvited spoke first to God with no royal armor on at all.

Mordecai's Dream and What It Showed

Long before the crisis, Mordecai had seen it coming. The Legends of the Jews preserves an account of Mordecai's prophetic dream, which showed him two serpents facing each other, one crying out so that every nation feared its voice. He woke from the dream knowing it was a vision of what was coming for Israel, though he did not yet have the details. When Haman rose to prominence, Mordecai recognized the dream's fulfillment taking shape. He had been a minor official in a foreign court. He had been watching and waiting for something that did not yet have a name.

When Mordecai needed to communicate with Esther through Hathach the servant, he sent his message in a form that could not be intercepted as anything obviously urgent. The tradition reads the entire communication system Mordecai built as the work of a man who had been preparing for exactly this moment without knowing when it would arrive.

The Three Days and What Followed

Esther's response to Mordecai's urging was to fast for three days and ask all the Jews of Susa to fast with her. Then she would go to the king uninvited, which was punishable by death unless the king chose to extend his scepter. She walked toward the throne knowing the rule. She walked toward it anyway.

The Legends of the Jews describes what happened as she approached: the king's face changed when he saw her, and she nearly fainted. The moment of confrontation between the orphan and the power that could kill her was not comfortable or triumphant. It was a moment of genuine danger and genuine courage arriving at the same instant. The king raised his scepter. The decree was not reversed that day, but the chain of events that would reverse it was now in motion.

When the decree was finally overturned and Haman was executed, the tradition read Esther's victory as the completion of the commission that had been issued at Rephidim more than a thousand years earlier. The memory of Amalek was not yet fully blotted out, but the line from Agag to Haman had been cut. The orphan in the palace had finished what the man on the hill could only begin.


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From the tradition

Sources

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

Chronicles of Jerahmeel LXXXChronicles of Jerahmeel (Gaster, 1899)

Esther stripped off her royal garments and the ornaments of her majesty. According to the Chronicles of Jerahmeel, a 12th-century Hebrew chronicle translated by Moses Gaster in 1899, she clothed herself in sackcloth, disheveled her hair, covered her head with dust and ashes, and fell on her face in prayer. She called herself an orphan in a foreign palace, begging God's mercy "from one window to the other" in the house of Ahasuerus.

Her prayer recalled the entire history of Israel's deliverance. Her father had taught her how God redeemed the ancestors from Egypt, slew the firstborn, parted the sea, provided food from heaven and water from the rock. She invoked Moses's promise that even in the land of their enemies, God would never forsake His people. Then she made her request: "Stand at the right hand of this orphan. Grant me mercy in the presence of the king, for I fear him as a kid fears the lion. Cause his heart to hate our enemies and to love Thy servants, for the heart of kings is in Thy hand."

On the third day, Esther dressed in royal garments and walked into the throne room, leaning on one handmaiden while another carried her train so the gold and precious stones would not touch the ground. The courtiers whispered among themselves, already dividing her belongings. "This woman is sure to be killed," they said. "I will take her garments." "I shall take the ornaments on her feet."

Ahasuerus looked up, enraged that she had come without being summoned. Esther trembled and began to faint. But God intervened, adding beauty to her beauty and majesty to her majesty. The king leapt from his throne, ran to her, embraced her, and placed the golden scepter in her hand. Through Esther and Mordecai, God brought about the salvation of Israel. Haman and his sons were hanged on the gallows, and every person who had plotted against the Jews was put to the sword.

Full source
Legends of the Jews 12:6Legends of the Jews

Legends of the Jews turns to Esther's Miracle.

The miracle of Purim isn’t just about escaping the evil decree of Haman, may his name be blotted out. It’s also about the incredible elevation of the Jewish people in the eyes of the Persian Empire, and particularly the ascent of Esther herself. this young woman, secretly Jewish, becomes queen!

That's where the seemingly excessive, almost unbelievable, feast that King Ahasuerus throws for his kingdom comes into play. It's not just a random detail in the Book of Esther, is it? It’s absolutely crucial.

The sheer, over-the-top extravagance of this feast – imagine, a celebration that lasts for 180 days, followed by another week-long party for everyone in the capital city of Shushan! – it serves as a measuring stick. As a gauge. (Esther 1:4-5)

Why?

Because it shows us the immense wealth and power that Esther would later wield. The Book of Esther makes it clear the king was very, very rich. This wasn't just a party; it was a display of imperial might. The more lavish the feast, the more impressive Esther's rise to power becomes. The Zohar, that foundational text of Jewish mysticism, hints at the deeper, hidden meanings within the story, and the feast certainly fits that bill, doesn't it?

The more we understand the opulence surrounding her, the more we appreciate the magnitude of her transformation. She wasn’t just saving her people; she was stepping into a position of unparalleled influence within one of the greatest empires of the ancient world.

So, the next time you read the story of Esther, don't just skim over the details of the feast. Imagine the spectacle, the grandeur, the sheer excess of it all. It's not just background noise; it’s a vital piece of the puzzle, setting the stage for Esther’s extraordinary journey. It reminds us that sometimes, the most miraculous transformations come from the most unexpected places.

Full source
Legends of the Jews 12:165Legends of the Jews

Mordecai, in the Book of Esther, certainly did. He had to communicate with Esther, his niece and now Queen, without raising suspicion. So how did he do it?

Well, according to Legends of the Jews, by Louis Ginzberg, Mordecai and Hathach, Esther's loyal servant, took a page out of Jacob's book. Remember Jacob, from Genesis? When he wanted to discuss leaving his father-in-law Laban with his wives, Leah and Rachel, he did it out in the open (Genesis 31:4). The idea was that any eavesdroppers would assume they were just chatting about the weather. Sneaky. Through Hathach, Mordecai conveyed a dire warning to the Queen. He revealed that Haman, the story's villain, was an Amalekite – a descendant of Amalek, Israel's ancient enemy. Like his ancestor, Haman sought nothing less than the total annihilation of the Jewish people. Mordecai urged Esther to break protocol, to risk her own life, and plead with the king on their behalf. To strengthen his plea, he reminded her of a powerful dream he once had.

Dreams in Jewish tradition aren't just random firings of neurons. They can be messages, prophecies, glimpses into the divine plan. So, what was this dream of Mordecai's?

Ginzberg recounts that Mordecai, overwhelmed by the suffering of the Jews in the Diaspora – the galut, their exile – had been pouring out his heart in prayer, begging God to redeem Israel and rebuild the Temple. Exhausted, he fell asleep and was granted a vision.

He found himself in a desolate, unfamiliar desert. There, a multitude of nations were mixed together. But one nation, small and despised, remained isolated, a short distance away. Suddenly, a snake emerged from the midst of the other nations. It rose higher and higher, growing larger and stronger with each passing moment. Its target? That vulnerable little nation. Darkness and impenetrable clouds enveloped the Jews, and the snake was on the verge of devouring them.

Can you feel the tension rising?

But then! A hurricane erupted from the four corners of the world! It enveloped the snake like a garment, crushing it into pieces. The fragments scattered like chaff before the wind, until not a trace of the monster remained. And with that, the darkness vanished, and the sun shone brightly upon the little nation once more.

What does it all mean? The dream, no doubt, was a powerful symbol of the threat facing the Jewish people, but also an assurance of ultimate salvation. Would Esther understand it? Would she have the courage to act? That, my friends, is where the story truly takes off.

Full source
Legends of the Jews 12:158Legends of the Jews

Legends of the Jews turns to There, Esther at the Dawn of Creation.

Purim is often remembered as a joyous holiday, full of costumes and noisemakers. But beneath the surface lies a story of incredible peril and resilience. And it begins with a moment of utter despair.

Mordecai, Esther's cousin and guardian, addresses the Jewish people. Can you hear the desperation in his voice? "O people of Israel, that art so dear and precious in the sight of thy Heavenly Father! Knowest thou not what has happened?" He lays it all bare. The king and Haman, that villain, have decided to wipe them out. To erase them from existence.

It's a terrifying prospect, and Mordecai doesn't sugarcoat it. According to Ginzberg's retelling in Legends of the Jews, Mordecai emphasizes their vulnerability. "We have no king on whom we can depend, and no prophet to intercede for us with prayers." They're completely exposed. No political power, no direct line to the Divine.

He continues, painting a bleak picture. "There is no place whither we can flee, no land wherein we can find safety." They're trapped. There's no escape. Mordecai uses powerful imagery to drive home the point. "We are like sheep without a shepherd, like a ship upon the sea without a pilot." Lost. Adrift. At the mercy of the storm.

And then comes the most heartbreaking comparison of all. "We are like an orphan born after the death of his father, and death robs him of his mother, too, when he has scarce begun to draw nourishment from her breast." Utterly helpless. Bereft of everything.

This isn't just a political crisis; it's an existential one. It's a moment where all hope seems lost. It’s a stark reminder of the fragility of life, and the ever-present threat of antisemitism. But it's also the moment that sets the stage for Esther's incredible bravery. It is from this point of hopelessness that the spark of courage will ignite, leading to a miraculous salvation. And perhaps, it's a reminder that even in our darkest moments, hope, however faint, can still endure.

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