It would seem to be the most improbable of scenarios: A young woman of impeccable Jewish virtue and pedigree is kidnapped, violated, and forced into an oppressive intermarriage with an unsavory, overpowering tyrant.
And yet, this seemingly sordid chain of events is enthusiastically celebrated in song and story on the streets of Bnei Brak, Golders Green, Borough Park, and throughout the Jewish world. Young girls even gleefully dress up like the “unfortunate” lass and are paraded for all to see, leading me to wonder, “Is this really the fate you’d choose for your own precious and precocious little maidele? Seriously?!”
Remarkably, this is the essence of what transpires in the holiday that came to be known as Purim. Esther, born Hadassah – perhaps her true name is hidden to protect her reputation – is taken by force into the Oriental harem of King Ahasuerus.
Though he rules a vast empire – India to Ethiopia, as the megillah tells us – and could presumably command any woman, there is something special about this young lady. Perhaps it is her beauty, perhaps it is her attitude of disinterest that comes off as playing hard to get, or perhaps it is the air of mystery surrounding her that catches Ahasuerus’s fancy and results in her becoming the monarch’s favorite consort.
But Ahasuerus is no great lover of Jews, contend the rabbis. He mocks the destruction of the Temple in Jerusalem by wearing the confiscated clothes of the kohen gadol, and he gladly accedes to Haman’s plot to massacre Persia’s Jews, even returning the bribe that Haman sought to give him. And so his eventual union with Esther is all the more perplexing – and painful.
Esther’s dilemma is magnified exponentially by the Talmud’s strong contention that Mordechai – the male lead in this drama – is not only her cousin but her husband as well.
This places her in a halachicly impossible predicament, particularly when Mordechai presses her to “visit” the king in order to plead for the lives of her fellow Jews. Such visits invariably included much more than just tea and crumpets, particularly with Ahasuerus, who was famed for his voracious sexual appetite.
Esther pleads with her husband – in vain – that she is forbidden to voluntarily submit herself to another man. Indeed, Jewish law requires no less than martyrdom in such a dire situation. It is at this point that Mordechai – who the Talmud says was a member of the Sanhedrin and was certainly an expert in Halacha – delivers his famous speech: “Who knows if you were not elevated to such a high position precisely for this purpose?”
The rabbis struggle mightily to find an “out” for Esther, some legal loophole to justify or excuse her violation of one of Judaism’s supreme moral laws. Some suggest that her complete passivity during intimacy – like a “lifeless clod of earth” – excused the act; others posit that she committed a sin for a higher purpose – a very tenuous proposal justifying unlawful behavior in extreme circumstances (akin to Yael in her sexual encounter with Sisera).
Esther herself is never comfortable with Mordechai’s directive, and she tells him, “I shall be lost, I shall surely be lost.”
Esther finally agrees to approach the king and bids him to come to not one but two parties that she orchestrates. Curiously, she also invites archenemy Haman to attend, a fact that mystifies the commentators. Some suggest she did this so that Haman would be available when the trap is sprung, preventing his escape.
Others say that Esther did not want her fellow Jews to think that “they have a sister in the palace” who is taking care of everything; she wanted them involved, praying and fasting for God’s help. Inviting Haman would scare them into suspecting that Esther may have cut a deal to save her own skin, so they would have to make their own efforts.
But the most dramatic and poignant opinion is that Esther’s plan was to “make eyes” at Haman at the party, in full view of the king, leading him to believe that the two of them were carrying on an illicit relationship. This, Esther hoped, would cause a jealous Ahasuerus to execute both Haman and her, neatly solving all her problems at once.
Of course, that’s not what happens. While Haman is indeed done away with, Esther remains queen. She and Ahasuerus, by tradition, will produce a child, Darius II, who will renew Cyrus’s permission for the Jews to rebuild the Temple.
History's female leaders
Esther will thus secure her place in history and join a long, celebrated line of women who give selflessly of themselves for the good of the nation.
This feminine “hall of fame” began with Sarah, who battled infertility all her life, yet never lost her faith in God or her dream to bear children. It continued with Rebekah, who risked everything to ensure that the correct son would inherit the mantle of Jewish leadership. Leah stoically endured a loveless marriage and bore the bulk of the 12 tribes, while Rachel, who also struggled with infertility, saw to it that her sister would have a husband, and died in childbirth at a young age.
Later, it was the wives of the Israelite slaves who convinced their husbands to trust in the future and continue to propagate the nation.
Today, International Women’s Day is a perfect opportunity to quote the Talmud’s words in tractate Sotah: “It was in the merit of the righteous women (who refused to give in to doubt or depression) that our ancestors were redeemed from Egypt,” and it certainly didn’t stop there.
It is the courage and self-sacrifice of contemporary Israeli women – from our soldiers and bereaved mothers to both our working and stay-at-home guardians of the Jewish family – that fuel the engine of life that keeps our country going.
The writer is the director of the Jewish Outreach Center of Ra’anana. rabbistewart@gmail.com