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The Orphan Queen of Persia Who Argued With God

Esther strips off her royal garments, covers herself in ashes, and prays with the desperation of someone who has nothing left to lose -- because she does not.

Curated by Arthur · Told by Maggid ·
Table of Contents
  1. Before the Scepter
  2. An Orphan Begging From Window to Window
  3. What She Said About the Crown
  4. The God She Argued With
  5. What Three Days on the Floor Produced

Before the Scepter

Before the crown. Before the golden scepter. Before the great reversal of Purim. There was a woman alone on the floor of her chamber, covered in ash, with her hair loose and her royal garments in a pile beside her.

Esther stripped off everything that marked her as queen of the Persian empire. Every jewel, every ornament, every garment of her majesty. She put on sackcloth and poured dust on her head and lay on the floor. Then she opened her mouth and what came out was not a formal petition. It was the prayer of someone who had counted what she had and found nothing.

An Orphan Begging From Window to Window

She told God directly: I dwell in the king's palace alone, without father or mother. Like an afflicted orphan begging charity from house to house, so do I beg for Your mercy, from one window to the other in the palace of King Ahasuerus.

The image is precise and unmerciful. She is a queen describing herself as a beggar. She is a woman with access to the most powerful man in the known world describing herself as having no access to anything that matters. Her parents were dead. Mordecai was outside the gate in sackcloth and could not enter. The other Jewish people were fasting and unable to help her. She had been elevated to a position of extraordinary proximity to power and the proximity had left her alone in a way that a woman in the street could not have been, because at least a woman in the street could beg from window to window without risking death every time she crossed a threshold.

What She Said About the Crown

She told God she hated the sign of her greatness. The crown she wore when she appeared before Ahasuerus was an abomination to her. She had never worn it in private. She had never taken pleasure in the table of Haman or the king's feasts. She had never drunk the wine of the libations. She had kept herself separate from everything in that palace that was not hers. From the day she was taken until this day, she had found no joy in it.

This is the queen making her case. She is not asking for rescue because she is powerful or because she deserves it for being good. She is asking because she has nothing else to ask with. She has already given up everything she might have used to protect herself, and now she is lying on the floor with ash on her hair saying: You know what I am. You placed me here. I am asking You to see me from where I actually am, not from where the throne says I should be.

The God She Argued With

The prayer does not end with submission. Esther reminded God of the specific argument she intended to carry into Ahasuerus's hall: if I die, I die. But if I am to approach the king unsummoned, let me do it in a moment You open. Help my speech. The door I am about to walk through can only be opened from the inside, and I cannot open it from where I am standing.

She lay on the floor for three days. On the third day, she put on the royal garments again. She walked to the inner court. Ahasuerus looked up from his throne and saw her and extended the golden scepter. She touched its tip. The petition could now begin.

What Three Days on the Floor Produced

Three days of fasting and prayer produced a woman who walked into the inner court looking like a queen and feeling, by her own account, like an orphan. The two things were both true simultaneously. The garments were real. The desolation was real. What she had learned on the floor was that the garments could carry her into the room and the desolation could carry her prayer, and that neither one had to cancel the other for the plan to work. She needed the crown to get through the door. She needed the prayer to have anything worth saying once she was inside. The three days on the floor were the preparation that made the crown useful rather than merely decorative.


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Book of Jubilees 41:24Book of Jubilees

Book of Jubilees turns to Judah Confesses That Tamar Is More Righteous.

Remember the story? Judah's wife dies. He’s supposed to give his youngest son, Shelah, to his widowed daughter-in-law, Tamar, to provide her with an heir. But Judah, fearing Shelah will also die, withholds him. Tamar, resourceful and determined, takes matters into her own hands. She disguises herself as a prostitute and seduces Judah himself.

The result? She becomes pregnant.

When Judah learns of Tamar's pregnancy, believing she has acted immorally, he orders her to be burned alive. But Tamar, in a stroke of brilliance, reveals the truth. She sends Judah the signet ring, cord, and staff he gave as payment, proving he is the father.

And here, in Jubilees 41, we find Judah's response. "Judah acknowledged, and said: 'Tamar is more righteous than I am. And therefore let them burn her not.'" It's a moment of profound honesty. He admits his wrongdoing. Tamar’s actions, though unconventional, were driven by a desire to uphold the law of yibbum, levirate marriage, ensuring her husband’s line continued. Judah, in his fear and selfishness, had failed her.

The verse reads, "And for that reason she was not given to Shelah, and he did not again approach her." Shelah remains unmarried to Tamar. The consequences of Judah's actions ripple outwards.

Following this dramatic confrontation, Tamar gives birth to twins: Perez and Zerah. Jubilees specifies this occurs in "the seventh year of this second week," a detail that anchors the narrative within its specific chronological framework. And this birth has huge ramifications! Perez, as we know from the Book of Ruth, becomes an ancestor of King David and, ultimately, of the Messiah. From this complicated, ethically murky situation, emerges the lineage of Jewish royalty.

The Book of Jubilees doesn't shy away from Judah's internal struggle. "And Judah acknowledged that the deed which he had done was evil, for he had lain with his daughter-in-law, and he esteemed it hateful in his eyes, and he acknowledged that he had transgressed and gone astray; for he had uncovered the skirt of his son." This isn't just a legal acknowledgement; it's a deeply personal one. He recognizes the moral weight of his actions. The phrase "uncovered the skirt of his son" is a euphemism for a grave transgression, violating the boundaries of family and lineage.

What's so compelling about this passage is its unflinching portrayal of human fallibility. Judah, a patriarch, a leader, makes a mistake. He tries to cover it up. But ultimately, he is confronted with the truth and forced to acknowledge his wrongdoing. It's a evidence of the power of truth and the possibility of repentance.

This story, found in Jubilees, reminds us that even in our imperfections, even in our moments of failure, we can still contribute to something greater. Judah's mistake, and his subsequent acknowledgement of it, becomes part of a story that leads to redemption. It’s a powerful reminder that the path to righteousness is rarely straight, but it's always possible to turn towards it. What do you think? Can good really come from such complicated beginnings?

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Book of Jubilees 41:21Book of Jubilees

Book of Jubilees turns to Judah and Joseph of Tamar.

Remember Judah? One of Jacob’s sons, a key figure in the story of Joseph and his coat of many colors. Well, his story doesn't end there. He gets married, has sons, and tragedy strikes when his first two sons die. According to the custom of yibbum, or levirate marriage, Judah's remaining son, Onan, is supposed to marry his brother's widow, Tamar, to continue the family line. But Onan, well, he's not so keen on the idea. He "spilled his seed on the ground," as the Bible delicately puts it (Genesis 38:9), and God wasn't pleased. So, he too dies.

Judah is in a bind. He’s lost two sons, and he’s starting to think Tamar might be bad luck. So, he tells her to go back to her father's house and wait until his youngest son, Shelah, is old enough to marry her. But Judah never intends to let that happen.

Time passes. Tamar sees what's going on. She realizes Judah is never going to give her Shelah. And she takes matters into her own hands.

This is where the Book of Jubilees picks up the story, expanding on the Genesis account. It's important to remember that the Book of Jubilees, a pseudepigraphal work (meaning it's attributed to a biblical figure but not actually written by them), offers a retelling and expansion of the Torah narrative, often filling in gaps and offering its own interpretations. This text, while not part of the canonical Hebrew Bible for most Jewish communities, provides valuable insight into Second Temple period Jewish thought.

Judah's wife dies. He goes to Timnah for the sheep-shearing. Tamar hears about this, and she disguises herself as a prostitute and waits for him on the road. Judah, not recognizing her, sleeps with her. As collateral, he gives her his signet ring, his necklace, and his staff.

The Book of Jubilees 41 tells us, "Let her keep (them) lest we become a cause of derision." This small aside, this moment of hesitation, highlights the fear of scandal and public shame that motivates Judah's actions.

Three months later, Tamar’s pregnancy becomes obvious. The community is outraged. "Behold Tamar, thy daughter-in-law, is with child by whoredom," they tell Judah. Remember, appearances matter. And Tamar's actions, on the surface, seem to be a blatant violation of social norms.

Judah, in a fury of righteous indignation, orders her to be burned alive. "Bring her forth, and let them burn her, for she hath wrought uncleanness in Israel." The patriarch Judah, the leader, the one who should be upholding justice, is ready to condemn Tamar to a horrific death.

But then, Tamar sends a message. As they bring her forth to burn her, she sends the ring, the necklace, and the staff to Judah, saying, "Discern whose are these, for by him am I with child."

The tables have turned completely.

What do you think Judah will do? How will he react when confronted with his own hypocrisy? The story of Tamar is far from over, and it's a powerful reminder that truth, justice, and redemption can emerge from the most unexpected places.

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