Proper 21
Preaching
Preaching And Reading The Old Testament Lessons
With an Eye to the New
As referred to in 9:20--22 in our text, Esther is a book that celebrates Jewish deliverance from persecution. It is not a religious book, and the name of God is never mentioned in it. Nevertheless it found its place in the canon of scripture as the reading for the Festival of Purim which falls on the fourteenth and fifteenth day of the month of Adar (= February/March; 9:21), according to the postexilic Jewish calendar. The name "Purim" comes from the Hebrew word pur, which refers to the "lot" that the wicked Haman cast to single out which Jews should be killed (3:7; 9:26, 28). The holiday is one of feasting, revelry, and sharing with the poor.
The story of Esther is a combination of fact and fiction. King Ahasuerus in the book is the historical Persian ruler Xerxes (486--465 B.C.), who ruled over a vast empire from India to Ethiopia (1:1). Many of the details in the book, such as mention of the efficient postal system (3:13; 8:10), the keeping of an official diary (2:23; 6:1--2), and execution by hanging, all accord with Persian history. But the author of Esther has used such a setting to tell a story full of intrigue and suspense that probably stems from the second century B.C., when Jews were sorely oppressed in the Hellenic Empire. And there is no way that a congregation will understand the reading for the morning unless that whole story is briefly told.
The king's wife, Vashti, disobeys and humiliates him and is replaced on the queen's throne by the beautiful Jewish Esther, whom the king picks out from the company of his captured foreign concubines. Esther is the adopted daughter of the Jew Mordecai, and Mordecai falls into disfavor with the self--important prince Haman, because he will not bow down to the egotistic prince. Haman vows revenge, not only on Mordecai, but on all the Jews. Indeed, Haman is a good version of an ancient Adolf Hitler, determining that all Jews, including young and old, women and children, throughout the Persian Empire are to be annihilated on the thirteenth day of the twelth month (3:13).
Esther alone can save her people (cf. 4:14). She has earlier learned that Mordecai foiled a plot against the king's life (2:22--23). At a banquet in her honor, to which she asks the king to invite Haman, she informs the king of how Mordecai has saved the king, and she tricks Haman himself into prescribing the reward for Mordecai. Equally, she asks, when the king grants her any petition, that her Jewish people be spared, and the king not only spares the Jews but grants them provision to annihilate their enemies throughout the empire. Haman is hanged, and 75,000 of the foes of the Jews are slain (9:16), an act of retribution that causes us a great deal of difficulty. But the feast of Purim is established as a memorial of the time when "the Jews got relief from their enemies and as the month that had been turned for them from sorrow into gladness and from mourning into a holiday" (9:22).
Certainly we can sympathize with the plight of the Jews in the story, although the slaughter that follows their vindication contradicts all of our Christian obligation to love our enemies. We, of course, have not always honored that obligation, as we have waged our "just wars." It is not our purpose to debate those terms.
Rather, although Esther is not a religious book, perhaps we should center on the purpose of God that lies silently behind it. Throughout the story and, indeed, throughout the scriptures, there is the conviction that the Jews form a special place in the plans and working of God (cf. Romans 9--11). Haman's wife tells him in 6:13 that he cannot prevail against the Jews, just as Mordecai is certain in 4:14 that deliverance will always arise for his people. And certainly the past century of our history testifies that though the Jews have been hunted and persecuted throughout the earth, they cannot be destroyed. The question is: Why?
Scripture is clear about the answer. At the beginning of the history of salvation, God made a promise that through Abraham and his descendants he would bring blessing on all the families of the earth (Genesis 12:3) and thus reverse the cursed effects of our sin that has so corrupted God's good creation (Genesis 1--11). Despite the continual disobedience and unfaithfulness of his chosen people, God continues, in the time of Esther, and still in our time, to bring about the fulfillment of that promise. When Jews are attacked, therefore, the people whom God has chosen to be his instrument are being attacked, and God's purpose itself is being attacked. "I will bless those who bless you, and him who curses you I will curse," God told Abraham (Genesis 12:3). And God always keeps his word. The story of Esther, despite its secularity and vindictiveness, sets forth that view.
Further, we must realize that God's fulfillment of his promise to the Jews finally narrows down to one Jew named Jesus Christ, through whom God will bring his final salvation to the world. And so our Lord tells us, "He who receives me receives him who sent me" (Matthew 10:32; cf. John 14:24). It is as we accept God's working through his chosen people and finally through his only begotten Son that we will know God's promised blessing of salvation.
Lutheran Option: Numbers 11:4--6, 10--16, 24--29
The people of Israel have been delivered by the Lord out of their slavery in Egypt in the thirteenth century B.C. The pursuing Egyptians have been wiped out by the returning waters of the Reed Sea. Now the Israelites make their long trek through the wilderness toward the land that God has promised them.
These verses from Numbers 11 are full of preaching possibilities. First of all, the Israelites in the desert are not a bunch of happy campers. They remember "the good old days" in Egypt, when they had lots to eat (and it was quite a remarkable diet!), although surely they have forgotten the hardships of their slavery and have exaggerated the good memories - meat was a rarity among all Near Eastern people, not to mention among slaves.
Moreover, their lack of gratitude is astounding. God has fed them day by day with manna, but that constant care disgusts them. "There is nothing at all but this manna to look at," they sneer. And of course that's a perfect picture of our ingratitude, isn't it? Day by day God sheds his manna of grace upon us. Every morning his mercies are new. Every day he forgives us and guides us and watches over us. He causes his sun to rise, though we be evil or good, and sends his rain, though we be just or unjust. Every day he sustains our lives and grants us bounty beyond all measure. But we, in our self--centered concern, exclaim, "There is nothing at all but this manna to look at!"
Then there's Moses, who thinks he himself has to provide for his people and who angrily accuses God of giving him burdens too hard to bear. And we, of course, are involved in that portrayal. "How can God do this to me?" we cry out, or "Why has the Lord led me into this situation?" or "God, you can't possibly expect me to put up with this!" And we turn our backs on our one source of support and comfort and decide we can do a better job on our own.
In the story that follows, in verses 16--32, an ever--patient and forgiving Lord mercifully answers all the complaints. He gives the people so much meat that they can't eat it all, and he provides helpers for Moses, laying Moses' spirit upon seventy elders to help bear the burdens of leading the griping and ungrateful people.
Then once more, in verses 26--29, we find ourselves portrayed. Two men named Eldad and Medad prophesy in the spirit, and the jealousy and pride of some, and even of Joshua, are aroused. "My lord Moses," Joshua excitedly demands, "forbid them. After all, you and I are the leaders here! Don't let those others usurp our position of power and exercise their gifts!" Many a church leader, a teacher, a preacher, an important lay person in a congregation has entertained that thought and thus tried to prevent the working of God's spirit in a church body.
The various verses of our text give marvelous opportunities for portraying our common sins and God's patient dealing with them.
The story of Esther is a combination of fact and fiction. King Ahasuerus in the book is the historical Persian ruler Xerxes (486--465 B.C.), who ruled over a vast empire from India to Ethiopia (1:1). Many of the details in the book, such as mention of the efficient postal system (3:13; 8:10), the keeping of an official diary (2:23; 6:1--2), and execution by hanging, all accord with Persian history. But the author of Esther has used such a setting to tell a story full of intrigue and suspense that probably stems from the second century B.C., when Jews were sorely oppressed in the Hellenic Empire. And there is no way that a congregation will understand the reading for the morning unless that whole story is briefly told.
The king's wife, Vashti, disobeys and humiliates him and is replaced on the queen's throne by the beautiful Jewish Esther, whom the king picks out from the company of his captured foreign concubines. Esther is the adopted daughter of the Jew Mordecai, and Mordecai falls into disfavor with the self--important prince Haman, because he will not bow down to the egotistic prince. Haman vows revenge, not only on Mordecai, but on all the Jews. Indeed, Haman is a good version of an ancient Adolf Hitler, determining that all Jews, including young and old, women and children, throughout the Persian Empire are to be annihilated on the thirteenth day of the twelth month (3:13).
Esther alone can save her people (cf. 4:14). She has earlier learned that Mordecai foiled a plot against the king's life (2:22--23). At a banquet in her honor, to which she asks the king to invite Haman, she informs the king of how Mordecai has saved the king, and she tricks Haman himself into prescribing the reward for Mordecai. Equally, she asks, when the king grants her any petition, that her Jewish people be spared, and the king not only spares the Jews but grants them provision to annihilate their enemies throughout the empire. Haman is hanged, and 75,000 of the foes of the Jews are slain (9:16), an act of retribution that causes us a great deal of difficulty. But the feast of Purim is established as a memorial of the time when "the Jews got relief from their enemies and as the month that had been turned for them from sorrow into gladness and from mourning into a holiday" (9:22).
Certainly we can sympathize with the plight of the Jews in the story, although the slaughter that follows their vindication contradicts all of our Christian obligation to love our enemies. We, of course, have not always honored that obligation, as we have waged our "just wars." It is not our purpose to debate those terms.
Rather, although Esther is not a religious book, perhaps we should center on the purpose of God that lies silently behind it. Throughout the story and, indeed, throughout the scriptures, there is the conviction that the Jews form a special place in the plans and working of God (cf. Romans 9--11). Haman's wife tells him in 6:13 that he cannot prevail against the Jews, just as Mordecai is certain in 4:14 that deliverance will always arise for his people. And certainly the past century of our history testifies that though the Jews have been hunted and persecuted throughout the earth, they cannot be destroyed. The question is: Why?
Scripture is clear about the answer. At the beginning of the history of salvation, God made a promise that through Abraham and his descendants he would bring blessing on all the families of the earth (Genesis 12:3) and thus reverse the cursed effects of our sin that has so corrupted God's good creation (Genesis 1--11). Despite the continual disobedience and unfaithfulness of his chosen people, God continues, in the time of Esther, and still in our time, to bring about the fulfillment of that promise. When Jews are attacked, therefore, the people whom God has chosen to be his instrument are being attacked, and God's purpose itself is being attacked. "I will bless those who bless you, and him who curses you I will curse," God told Abraham (Genesis 12:3). And God always keeps his word. The story of Esther, despite its secularity and vindictiveness, sets forth that view.
Further, we must realize that God's fulfillment of his promise to the Jews finally narrows down to one Jew named Jesus Christ, through whom God will bring his final salvation to the world. And so our Lord tells us, "He who receives me receives him who sent me" (Matthew 10:32; cf. John 14:24). It is as we accept God's working through his chosen people and finally through his only begotten Son that we will know God's promised blessing of salvation.
Lutheran Option: Numbers 11:4--6, 10--16, 24--29
The people of Israel have been delivered by the Lord out of their slavery in Egypt in the thirteenth century B.C. The pursuing Egyptians have been wiped out by the returning waters of the Reed Sea. Now the Israelites make their long trek through the wilderness toward the land that God has promised them.
These verses from Numbers 11 are full of preaching possibilities. First of all, the Israelites in the desert are not a bunch of happy campers. They remember "the good old days" in Egypt, when they had lots to eat (and it was quite a remarkable diet!), although surely they have forgotten the hardships of their slavery and have exaggerated the good memories - meat was a rarity among all Near Eastern people, not to mention among slaves.
Moreover, their lack of gratitude is astounding. God has fed them day by day with manna, but that constant care disgusts them. "There is nothing at all but this manna to look at," they sneer. And of course that's a perfect picture of our ingratitude, isn't it? Day by day God sheds his manna of grace upon us. Every morning his mercies are new. Every day he forgives us and guides us and watches over us. He causes his sun to rise, though we be evil or good, and sends his rain, though we be just or unjust. Every day he sustains our lives and grants us bounty beyond all measure. But we, in our self--centered concern, exclaim, "There is nothing at all but this manna to look at!"
Then there's Moses, who thinks he himself has to provide for his people and who angrily accuses God of giving him burdens too hard to bear. And we, of course, are involved in that portrayal. "How can God do this to me?" we cry out, or "Why has the Lord led me into this situation?" or "God, you can't possibly expect me to put up with this!" And we turn our backs on our one source of support and comfort and decide we can do a better job on our own.
In the story that follows, in verses 16--32, an ever--patient and forgiving Lord mercifully answers all the complaints. He gives the people so much meat that they can't eat it all, and he provides helpers for Moses, laying Moses' spirit upon seventy elders to help bear the burdens of leading the griping and ungrateful people.
Then once more, in verses 26--29, we find ourselves portrayed. Two men named Eldad and Medad prophesy in the spirit, and the jealousy and pride of some, and even of Joshua, are aroused. "My lord Moses," Joshua excitedly demands, "forbid them. After all, you and I are the leaders here! Don't let those others usurp our position of power and exercise their gifts!" Many a church leader, a teacher, a preacher, an important lay person in a congregation has entertained that thought and thus tried to prevent the working of God's spirit in a church body.
The various verses of our text give marvelous opportunities for portraying our common sins and God's patient dealing with them.
