Saturday, 7 June 2014

The Story - Chapter 20 - Esther


“Be Prepared”. That's the motto of the Boy Scouts.

Always wise to be prepared. (Lion story).

"Be prepared for what?" someone once asked Baden-Powell, the founder of Scouting,
"Why, for any old thing." said Baden-Powell.
 
The training you get in Scouts and Guides will help you be prepared when you need to know how to read a map, or tie a knot, or cook a meal or maybe do some first aid.
But Baden-Powell wasn't thinking just of being ready for emergencies. His idea was that all Scouts and Guides should prepare themselves to become responsible citizens; looking out for others and not just themselves. He wanted them to be prepared so they could face with courage whatever challenges life brought their way.
 
I’m not sure how prepared Esther was for the particular challenges she faced in today’s episode of the Story. She seems to have been a lovely girl, with much more than just outer beauty to commend her. But there must have been times when she had to pinch herself to see if she was dreaming. An orphaned Jewish girl, living in exile, chosen from dozens of other women by one of the most powerful men in the world and now married to him and enjoying his favour? Who would want to rock the boat in those circumstances?
 
But that’s exactly what Mordecai wants her to do.
 
Our people are going to be slaughtered – he says. You’ve got to use your influence to stop this happening.
 
And Esther’s not prepared for that. Like most of us, the first thing she sees is the problem – and the problem looks insurmountable. “For any man or woman who approaches the king in the inner court without being summoned, the King has but one law: that they be put to death unless the king extends the gold sceptre to them and spares their lives. But thirty days have passed since I was called to go to the king.”
 
Esther’s first thoughts are about herself and her own security, and I guess we can forgive her for that. But Mordecai, in his own sharp way, tells her that it’s not enough to be thinking just of herself at this time. She has to see the bigger picture - the lives of all the Jews in exile are in danger.
 
And the words he speaks to her next are probably the most significant in the whole of the book of Esther because they’re the pivot around which the whole of this story turns.
 
“And who knows but that you have come to your royal position for such a time as this?”
 
You think it’s luck, or an accident that you – a young Jewish woman, exiled in Persia, should have become queen? What if there’s more to it than mere luck? What if God has brought this about so that he has the right person in the right place at the right time when his people most need it?
 
And it’s those words that swing it. In a moment, Esther realises that she carries responsibilities that are far more important than her own needs or desires; even her desire to stay alive. She wasn’t prepared for this, but now she determines to get prepared:
 
“Go, gather together all the Jews who are in Susa and fast for me. Do not eat or drink for three days, night or day. I and my attendants will fast as you do. When this is done, I will go to the king, even though it is against the law. And if I perish, I perish.”
 
Mordecai’s words stop Esther in her tracks and help her see her life in a different way. I’ve often said that the life of faith has both horizontal and vertical dimensions, like the shape of the cross. And although this story take place centuries before Christ, it’s exactly those dimensions that Mordecai wants to get across to Queen Esther.
 
Firstly, he wants her to understand the horizontal dimension.
 
Esther, Mordecai says, you have responsibilities to your people. They’re in crisis. There are plans to wipe them out. You’re the only person in a position to do something about it. You have responsibilities to us.
 
And as I thought about that I remembered how powerful a thing it is when people take their responsibilities to one another seriously.
I watched Saving Private Ryan for the first time in ages the other week, and found myself marvelling at the courage of the men who spilled out of those boats to storm the beaches on D-day. I don’t think it was high ideals that got them moving, but that sense of responsibility to one another, and to the people they loved back home.
 
I thought of Jean Vanier; a French monk who founded the ‘L’Arche’ Community which cares for people who are profoundly handicapped and can do almost nothing for themselves. The people who work in L’Arche regularly speak about how it changes their perspective on life, and teaches them what it means to be authentically human. And they learn this from the people that they care for.
 
I remembered my brother Kenny, who boarded at the school for the blind he attended in Belfast from the age of 4. Kenny was away from home all week and knowing how important it is for a wee one to be with family, one of the carers – Kate McQuillan - wanted to help. She asked my parents if she could take Kenny home with her now and again during the week to be with her folk – a big family with seven kids where there was always something going on. And Kenny loved it.
 
We hadn’t known the McQuillans before that; there was no financial arrangement of any kind. They just did it out of the goodness of their hearts – and they were a Catholic family, while we were Protestant.  The shootings and the bombings tended to make the news in Northern Ireland. Those kind of things didn’t. But they happened all the same.
 
Now contrast that with the kind of selfishness we saw two summers ago; the mass looting and destruction that shamed England’s inner cities. Or the smug arrogance of those who go through life demanding their rights but paying little heed to anyone else’s. Forgetting that with those rights go responsibilities.
 
“Am I my brother’s keeper?” said Cain, angrily, in the garden of Eden.
 
“Yes. Yes you are” were the unspoken words on God’s lips.
 
Esther realised, through Mordecai’s words, that she didn’t just live for herself. Her life was joined to that of others, and her fate and her future was tied to theirs. He reminded her of the horizontal dimension of life.
 
But he did more than that. He reminded her of the vertical dimension too.
 
The book of Esther is unique in the Bible because it’s the only book that doesn’t mention the name of God. Not once. And yet, the clear implication is that God is at work the whole time to bring about his ends.
 
As we’ve been reading our way through the Story, we’ve encountered the reality of what we’ve been calling the Lower Story – life in this world with all its messiness and chaos.
 
And we know that life in this world is a mixed bag. There are spells when it’s wonderful, and spells where it’s awful. Times when everything seems to be coming together and other times when it feels like everything’s falling apart. And this is life.
 
But for the person who believes, the Lower Story never has the last word because we believe that behind the scenes God is working in and through, and sometimes around those circumstances, to bring good for his people and his world. There’s another story going on – the Upper Story – where God is at work. And we can get in on that story if we want to.
 
When Mordecai says “who knows but that you have come to your royal position for such a time as this?” he’s opening a window onto the Upper Story for Esther. Reminding her that there’s a vertical dimension to life, and there’s always more going on than meets the eye.
 
Esther – you have a part to play in God’s plans, he’s saying. Your life is more than you yet know. Will you surrender yourself to that greater purpose? Will you let God use you, even if it takes you to places where you find yourself in danger?
 
It takes courage  to respond to that kind of call. It took Esther and her people three days of prayer and fasting to focus on her task, and on the God who was working through her. But she did it. And through her faithfulness God’s people overcame those who wanted to destroy them, and Esther’s story has been cherished for generations by the Jewish people: told and re-told in the annual Jewish festival of Purim.
 
And as we remember it today, we realise that though we’ll never have to make decisions with such far reaching consequences – our lives have a horizontal and a vertical dimension, just like Esther’s.
 
We have responsibilities to one another as part of the human family. We are our brother and sister’s keeper. And we have responsibilities to God as well, because our lives are not simply our own to live as we please.
 
With Christ’s death very much in view, the apostle Paul writes to the church in Corinth and tells them, and all who followed after: “You are not your own. You were bought at a price.”
 
To be Christian, first and foremost, isn’t about coming to church or trying to be a good person, as many people seem to think. Those things are important, but they’re secondary. Being a Christian is about a fundamental shift in how you view your life. Realising that if Christ put his life on the line for you, you can do no less for him in return.  Realising that you are no longer your own, because you were bought at a price.
 
To really grasp that is to begin to live in a new way – with both the horizontal and the vertical dimensions, the Lower and the Upper story firmly in view.
 
That  - I believe – is what Esther shows us, this morning. And what God wants us all to be prepared for.
 
 
Amen

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