Reflections upon an Overlooked Chapter

Guest Blogger Doug Aronin

*****

The chapter we usually overlook: a pre-Purim reflection

The chapter we usually overlook: a pre-Purim reflection Because most of us enjoy the satiric genre commonly known as "Purim Torah," we too seldom have the opportunity to engage in serious study of the Book of Esther, usually called simply the Megillah (though in fact there are four others).  That's too bad, because the Megillah, studied carefully, has a great deal to teach us.   When we think of the story recounted in the Megillah, our attention naturally turns to the dramatic course of events leading up to the climactic confrontation between Queen Esther and the wicked Haman, which ends with Haman's execution (Esther 7:10).  But Haman's death does not end the Megillah's story.  We still have three chapters to go.   In Chapter 8, Mordecai and Esther appear before King Ahasuerus, reveal their relationship and enlist his aid in preventing the scheduled extermination of the Jewish people. The king cannot annul the decree permitting their enemies to attack them, but he allows them to attack their enemies in turn, and his officers aid them in the ensuing battles.  Chapter 9 tells the story of the Jewish victory in those battles and of the consequent establishment by Mordecai and Esther of the holiday of Purim as a perpetual celebration of that victory.   End of story, right?  Not quite.  We still have Chapter 10.  Its three verses make it one of the shortest chapters in all of Tanakh.  (Off hand I can think of only one chapter -- Psalms 117 -- that is shorter.) And the reason for including it in the Biblical text is not immediately apparent.  As translated by JPS [except for the words in brackets], that chapter reads as follows:     

1. King Ahasuerus imposed tribute on the mainland and the islands [of the sea]. 2. All his mighty and powerful acts, and a full account of the greatness to which the king advanced Mordecai, are recorded in the Annals of the Kings of Media and Persia. 3. For Mordecai the Jew ranked next to King Ahasuerus and was highly regarded by the Jews and popular with the multitude of his brethren [Heb. rov echav]; he sought the good of his people and interceded for the welfare of all his kindred. 

This chapter seems out of place.  It's not part of the Purim story, so what's it doing here?  The third verse, the last in the Megillah, could be read as a sort of "happily ever after" line, but what about the first two verses?  Why do we need to know that the king's mighty acts were recorded in the Annals (more familiarly translated, by Artscroll among others, as "chronicles") of his kingdom?  And what possible purpose is served by the chapter's first verse, which tells us of the tribute [Hebrew mas, which can also mean tax] the king imposed on both the land and the islands?   The third verse, though it seems less out of place than the first two, appears to be telling us more than we need to know in this context.  At least one of its phrases, moreover, if translated correctly, seems at first reading to detract from Mordecai's stature rather than enhance it.  The Hebrew phrase rov echav (somewhat ambiguously translated as "the multitude of his brethren" by both JPS and Artscroll) is translated more precisely though less commonly, as "most of  his brethren".  That translation is consistent with the view of the classical commentator Ibn Ezra, who explains that no one in a leadership position will be accepted by everybody, since some are likely to be jealous; and with the Midrash, brought down by Rashi, which asserts that some of his contemporaries criticized Mordecai for spending time with the affairs of the kingdom when he should have been devoting that time to the study of Torah.   It seems to me that these three verses may be a little easier to understand if we contrast them with the story of another Biblical figure who had earlier found himself in a similar position.  Mordecai was not, after all, the first Jew to become the most powerful courtier of a Gentile king; that distinction belongs to Joseph, who was appointed to a similar position by Pharaoh (Gen. 41:37-46). Even if we hesitate to accept at face value the Midrashic depiction of Mordecai as the preeminent Torah scholar of his generation, it is reasonable to assume that any Jew of his time would have known the story of Joseph.  When he found himself unexpectedly promoted to the second most powerful position in the Persian empire, Mordecai might well have looked to Joseph's experience for guidance as to the best way to conduct himself in such a position.   If Mordecai indeed sought guidance in the story of Joseph, he most likely would have focused on the cautionary tale at the end of Parshat Vayigash (Gen. 47:13-27).  Having stored up for Pharaoh during the years of plenty all the surplus grain in Egypt, Joseph had secured for Pharaoh what amounted to a monopoly on bread.  At first the Egyptian people could pay to receive an allotment of the stored grain, but eventually they ran out of money (47:15).  Joseph then demanded their livestock as payment until that too ran out (47:16-18).  At that point, the people offered to sell Joseph their land, which was the only possession they had left.  In return for working the land, they would receive four fifths of what they produced,but the remaining fifth of the produce would belong to Pharaoh as the owner of the land.    Joseph, apparently, was not shy about claiming credit for this arrangement: "So Joseph gained possession of all the farmland of Egypt for Pharaoh, every Egyptian having sold his field because the famine was too much for them; thus the land passed over to Pharaoh." (Gen. 47:20, JPS translation)  "And Joseph made it into a land law in Egypt, which is still valid, that a fifth should be Pharaoh's; only the land of the priests did not become Pharaoh's."  (47:26).   Joseph's ingenuity no doubt earned him Pharaoh's gratitude at the time, but rulers are notoriously fickle.  At some point after Joseph's death, the Torah tells us: "A new king arose  over Egypt who did not know Joseph." (Ex. 1:8, JPS translation)  Commentaries differ as to whether he was truly a new king or the same king going in a new direction, and whether he really did not know about Joseph or merely pretended not to know.  In either case, however, it's noteworthy that nowhere does the Torah suggest that the Egyptian people forgot about Joseph, or even pretended to forget.  It's likely, in fact, that they remembered all too well that he was responsible for their serfdom.  So when the Egyptian king decided that it was in his interest first to subjugate the Jews and later to seek to annihilate them, it was easy for him to recruit a nation of willing accomplices.   That is, unfortunately,  a story repeated many times throughout Jewish history.  Jews in exile have frequently served as middlemen of various types, standing between Gentile rulers and their peasant subjects.  Other peoples' kings have often used Jews to initiate or carry out unpopular policies, and then to serve as convenient scapegoats when popular anger at those policies passed the breaking point.  Some kings, to be sure, were grateful and did not forget their Jews' loyal service in the face of peasant rage.  But all of them were mortal, so sooner or later a new king would arise who did not share that gratitude.   In light of those experiences, some Jews contend even today that, as long as we are in exile, we should leave worldly affairs to others; Gentile politics is no place for a nice Jewish boy (or girl). It's not hard to imagine that some in Mordecai's time took a similar position. Perhaps that was the reason that it was only "most of his brethren" who approved of Mordecai's actions in his new position; there was a minority who felt that it was inappropriate, or perhaps dangerous,  for him to occupy such a position.  Maybe that minority, in an attempt to persuade Mordecai to change his mind, even pointed to Joseph's experience as a justification for their hesitancy.   If they did make such an argument, then Mordecai obviously did not accept their counsel.  By holding high office, he was able to help his people, the Megillah's last verse tells us, and most Jews approved of his decision.  The course of events leading up to his elevation, moreover, suggests another lesson as well: when decent people avoid the messy realm of public affairs, there is no obstacle to the elevation of Haman or his counterparts in other centuries.  Jews, unfortunately, have seen that scenario play itself out with depressing frequency.   I'm not suggesting that Mordecai learned nothing from the Torah's depiction of Joseph.  But what he learned was not to stay out of Gentile politics at all costs but rather to proceed with caution, and perhaps with humility (which was not Joseph's strong suit).  Joseph,  the Torah suggests, did not hesitate to take credit for initiating policies that reduced most Egyptians to serfdom.  Pharaoh was the beneficiary of those policies, but he does not appear to have had any active role in formulating them.  In the eyes of the Egyptian people, in all likelihood, their serfdom was Joseph's fault   Mordecai, according to the three verses of Chapter 10, was more careful.  When it came to imposing a tribute on the provinces and islands of the Persian empire, he stayed out of it, letting the king  take the initiative.  He pointed to the king's own chronicles, moreover, as the arbiter of achievements, perhaps relying on the typical kingly penchant for taking credit for everything that goes well.    Like Joseph, Mordecai did not hesitate to involve himself in affairs of state.  Unlike Joseph, he took some precautions to avoid becoming a lightening rod for his royal master.  With the aid of such precautions, he was able to use the influence of his office for the benefit of his fellow Jews while limiting the risks to which he and they were exposed.   On Purim we celebrate a particular victory over particular enemies at a particular point of Jewish history.  But if that were the sum total of what Purim represents, then it's not clear why we would still be celebrating it.  After all, Jewish history is full of enemies who sought to destroy the Jewish people and did not succeed.  Indeed, one such enemy rules today in the same country in which Haman came to power -- and that enemy, as this week's news reminds us, seeks to acquire nuclear weapons, the better to kill us with.   But Purim celebrates more than a single victory over a particular enemy.  It celebrates the Jewish people's survival, against all odds, through centuries of exile.  Jews survived not by indiscriminately seeking power nor by adamantly avoiding it, but by adapting, skillfully but cautiously, to the changing tides of history.  Perhaps Chapter 10 was included in the Megillah to remind us that neither a single victory, nor the holiday created to celebrate it, is the end of the story -- that the story, indeed is not yet over.    A joyous Purim to all.   

Douglas Aronin