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Mordecai Heard Children's Verses and Knew Deliverance Was Coming

As Haman approached, Mordecai stopped three schoolchildren and asked what they had studied. Each verse they quoted pointed toward the same rescue.

Curated by Arthur · Told by Maggid ·
Table of Contents
  1. The Morning Haman Came to Find Him
  2. What the First Child Said
  3. What the Second and Third Children Said
  4. Haman Watched the Whole Thing

The Morning Haman Came to Find Him

Haman had arrived at the palace early. He had come to ask the king for permission to hang Mordecai on the gallows he had built the night before, fifty cubits high, visible from most of Shushan, constructed for exactly this purpose. He was planning the request carefully, the way a man plans any conversation he expects to go smoothly because he has already prepared the end of it. He came through the outer courtyard and found Mordecai with three children.

Mordecai was laughing.

Not the laughter of a man who does not understand his situation. Mordecai understood it with complete clarity. He had spent days in sackcloth at the palace gate, fasting with the Jewish community, fully aware that an edict carrying the king's seal had gone out to every province ordering the destruction of every Jew in the empire. He knew Haman was coming. He knew about the gallows. He had stopped the children a few minutes before Haman arrived and asked them what they had studied that day in their teacher's house, and their three answers had produced in him a joy he was not trying to conceal.

What the First Child Said

The first child quoted Proverbs: "Fear not sudden terror, nor the storm that comes upon the wicked." Mordecai received this verse and held it. It was addressed to him directly, in a way that children giving school answers rarely intend. The sudden terror was Haman. The storm that was coming was described as coming upon the wicked, not upon the one receiving the warning. The verse had arrived at exactly the right moment and pointed in exactly the right direction.

What the Second and Third Children Said

The second child quoted Isaiah: "Devise a plan, and it will be foiled; speak a word, and it will not stand, for God is with us." The plan that had been devised was Haman's. The word that would not stand was the edict. The verse did not say maybe. It said the plan would be foiled and the word would not stand and the reason was the presence of God, which was not the absence the palace seemed to represent.

The third child quoted the second Isaiah: "Even to old age I am the same, even to grey hairs I will carry you. I have made, and I will bear; I will carry and will deliver." The God Haman had described to the king's council as old and feeble had just quoted himself through a schoolchild to say that the carrying had not stopped.

Three verses. Three children. Three direct answers to the three arguments that fear had been constructing in Mordecai's direction for weeks: that the terror was unsurvivable, that the plan was unstoppable, that the God of Israel had aged beyond capacity to act. Each answer came from a different book of scripture and each one arrived in the voice of a child who had no idea of the weight the verse was carrying.

Haman Watched the Whole Thing

Haman was watching. He saw Mordecai's face change when the children spoke. He saw the joy break through the man who had been sitting in sackcloth at his own gate, and he understood enough of what he was seeing to become furious. He demanded to know what the children had said. When Mordecai told him, Haman's response was immediate: "those children would be the first to die."

The verses had already been delivered. The joy was already in Mordecai's face. Threatening the children accomplished nothing except to demonstrate that Haman had heard the same three verses and understood their implications exactly as Mordecai had understood them. His fury was confirmation.

EstherPurimMordecaiDivine JusticeProphecy
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From the tradition

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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.

Legends of the Jews 12:152Legends of the Jews

These aren't just any verses; they're hints of salvation, whispers of hope amidst looming disaster.

What does Mordecai do? He erupts in joy, right there in front of his nemesis, Haman! Can you picture Haman's face? Pure bewilderment mixed with fury. "I rejoice at the good tidings announced to me by the school children," Mordecai declares.

Haman, already a powder keg, absolutely explodes. "In sooth, they shall be the first to feel the weight of my hand!" he bellows, according to Ginzberg’s retelling in Legends of the Jews. He's so consumed by rage that he wants to punish innocent children.

Here’s the really heavy part, the somber undertone to all this. Mordecai wasn't just worried about Haman’s immediate threat. He understood something deeper. He realized in Legends of the Jews, that the Jewish people themselves had, in a way, brought this danger upon themselves.

How? Through their actions at the king's banquets. Ahasuerus, remember, threw these massive feasts, and a staggering eighteen thousand five hundred Jews participated. As we find in Legends of the Jews, they ate, they drank, they got intoxicated, and, tragically, they committed immoralities. Haman, that sly fox, had even foreseen this. He had actually encouraged Ahasuerus to throw those banquets, knowing the potential for the Jews to stray from their path.

It's a sobering thought, isn't it? The idea that our own actions, our own choices, can contribute to our misfortunes. This isn't just about a historical event; it's a timeless lesson about responsibility, about the consequences of our behavior, and about the importance of staying true to our values, even when surrounded by temptation.

So, what do we take away from this little snippet of the Esther story? Perhaps it's a reminder to listen to the whispers of hope, even in the darkest times. But maybe, even more importantly, it's a call to examine our own actions and ensure that we're not inadvertently contributing to the very problems we're trying to overcome.

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Shemot Rabbah 1:35Shemot Rabbah

In fact, they wrestled with it in their interpretations of the book of Exodus, specifically (Exodus 2:25): "God saw the children of Israel, and God knew."

What did God see? What did God know?

The Shemot Rabbah, a classical compilation of rabbinic commentary on Exodus, explores this very question. It starts by linking this verse to another, (Exodus 3:7), where God says, "I have seen the affliction of My people… as I know its pains." So, on one level, God saw their suffering and knew their pain. Simple enough. But the rabbis weren't content with the simple answer. They dug deeper. They asked: Did the Israelites deserve to be redeemed? Did they have enough good deeds, enough mitzvot (commandments), to warrant divine intervention?

The Shemot Rabbah offers a startling answer. It suggests that God saw something else entirely: that the Israelites were, essentially, spiritually bankrupt. They lacked the merit, the zechut, to be saved.

To illustrate this, the text turns to the prophet Ezekiel (16:7), who uses powerful imagery to describe Israel's early development: "I rendered you as numerous as the plants of the field [and you increased and grew, and you came to great beauty: Breasts developed and your hair grew, but you were naked and bare]."

Now, pay close attention to the order. Ezekiel says, "breasts developed" before "your hair grew." This seems backward. The rabbis point out that, usually, the appearance of pubic hair precedes the development of breasts as a sign of puberty. So, what's going on here?

The Shemot Rabbah interprets the "breasts" as a metaphor for Moses and Aaron. The Hebrew word used, nakhonu (breasts developed), is related to nekhonim, meaning "prepared." So, the verse is hinting that Moses and Aaron were already prepared to redeem the Israelites. As it says in (Song of Songs 4:5), "Your two breasts are like two fawns." This phrase, the Rabbis say, refers to Moses and Aaron.

"And your hair grew," they continue, represents the arrival of the time for redemption.

But here's the kicker: "But you were naked and bare." This, the Shemot Rabbah tells us, means the Israelites were bereft of good deeds.

So, going back to (Exodus 2:25), "God saw" that they didn't have the merit to be redeemed.

It's a harsh assessment, isn't it? Why would God redeem a people who didn't deserve it? What does it say about the nature of redemption itself? Does it mean that divine grace is unconditional? That even when we are at our lowest, most undeserving, help can still come?

Perhaps the Shemot Rabbah is suggesting that redemption isn't always about earning our way out. Sometimes, it's about God's unwavering commitment to us, even when we’re spiritually "naked and bare." It’s a reminder that hope can arise even in the direst of circumstances, even when, by all accounts, we don’t deserve it. And maybe, just maybe, that’s the most profound kind of redemption there is.

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