More than just a label, sometimes a name is a window into a person's very soul. Take Esther, for example. Her story, as told in the Book of Esther, is one of bravery and salvation, but did you know the legends surrounding her birth are just as compelling?
The story begins with tragedy. Esther's mother died giving birth to her, leaving her an orphan not long after her father had passed away. Imagine that: a tiny baby, all alone in the world. But this is where the kindness of Mordecai shines through.
Mordecai, a righteous man, and his wife took in the orphaned Esther. His wife nursed her, and Mordecai himself, according to Legends of the Jews (Ginzberg), didn't hesitate to perform even the most traditionally "feminine" tasks to care for the child. What an image of selfless devotion!
Now, about those names… Esther actually had two: Esther and Hadassah. According to the text, both names reflect her virtues. Hadassah, which means "myrtle," is particularly evocative. She was called Myrtle, we're told, because her good deeds spread her fame like the sweet fragrance of the myrtle that pervades the air.
The myrtle itself, according to tradition, is a symbol of the pious. Why? Because, like the evergreen myrtle, which remains vibrant in both summer and winter, the saints never suffer dishonor, either in this world or the world to come. It's a beautiful metaphor, isn't it? A symbol of unwavering faith and enduring righteousness.
But there's more to the myrtle connection. The text goes on to say that Esther also resembled the myrtle in another way: despite its pleasant scent, the myrtle has a bitter taste. Esther, you see, was pleasant to the Jews, but bitterness itself to Haman and all who belonged to him. She was a double-edged sword, a source of joy and salvation for her people, and a harbinger of doom for their enemies. This duality, this complexity, makes her story all the more fascinating.
So, what does Esther’s story and her names teach us? Perhaps it's that even in the face of immense loss and adversity, kindness and goodness can blossom. Or maybe it's that true strength lies not just in sweetness, but in the ability to be a force of justice, even when it's bitter.