Original Article

Journal for the Study of the Old Testament

The cult of Esther: Temple

2019, Vol. 44(1) 99­–114
© The Author(s) 2019
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DOI: 10.1177/0309089218778581
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Max Rogland
Erskine Theological Seminary, USA

Abstract
The MT of Esther studiously avoids mentioning God as well as any devotional practices such as
prayer that would point to a deity. While this initial impression of ‘secularity’ has been frequently
discussed, this article seeks to demonstrate that there are more traces of divine presence in the
book than have typically been acknowledged. Specifically, it argues that the MT of Esther employs
terminology that carries distinctive associations with the OT cult. That is, the book contains a
number of verbal cues that evoke the Temple’s furnishings, functionaries, structure, and rituals.
This article presents a number of examples of cultic imagery in Megillat Esther and suggests some
ways in which their presence affects the interpretation of the book.

Keywords
Cult, Esther, liturgy, priesthood, providence, ritual theory, temple

The absence of God in the MT of Megillat Esther is one of the most striking features of
the book and has been a topic of much discussion.1 The book eschews all references to

  1. The literature on this point is voluminous; for a selection, see Timothy K. Beal, “Esther”, in
Ruth and Esther (Tod Linafelt and Timothy K. Beal; Berit Olam; Collegeville: The Liturgical
Press, 2016), i-130, esp. xix-xx; Samuel Wells, “Esther”, in Esther & Daniel (Samuel Wells
and George Sumner; Brazos Theological Commentary on the Bible; Grand Rapids: Brazos
Press, 2013), 3-91, esp. 9-10; Jonathan Grossman, Esther: The Outer Narrative and the
Hidden Reading (Siphrut: Literature and Theology of the Hebrew Scriptures 6; Winona Lake:
Eisenbrauns, 2011), 11; Gregory R. Goswell, “Keeping God Out of the Book of Esther”,
EQ 82.2 (2010), 99-110; David G. Firth, The Message of Esther: God Present but Unseen
(The Bible Speaks Today; Downers Grove: InterVarsity Press, 2010), 19; Harold Wahl, Das
Buch Esther: Übersetzung und Kommentar (Berlin: De Guyter, 2009), 38-39; Michael V. Fox,
Character and Ideology in the Book of Esther (2nd ed.; Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2001), 235;
Frederic W. Bush, Ruth, Esther (WBC 9; Dallas: Word, 1996), 274-5; David R. Blumenthal,
“Where God Is Not: The Book of Esther and Song of Songs”, Judaism 44 (1995), 80-92;
David J. Clines, Ezra, Nehemiah, Esther (NCB; Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1984), 268-9;
Carey A. Moore, Esther (AB 7B; Garden City: Doubleday, 1971), xxxii; Shemaryahu Talmon,

Corresponding author:
Max Rogland, Erskine Theological Seminary, 1400 Lady Street, Columbia, SC 29201, USA.
Email: rogland@erskine.edu
100 Journal for the Study of the Old Testament 44(1)

God and to devotional practices that would point directly to the Deity. Many have
noticed, for example, that even though fasting is called for in the narrative (Est 4.16), no
mention is made of prayer, even though this typically accompanies a fast in the Tanakh.2
In the same way, references to the Temple, the priesthood, and cultic worship are studi-
ously avoided. Timothy Laniak states that Esther is ‘unique in its deemphasis on cultic
observance’.3 Jon Levenson puts it even more strongly when he says that Esther, like
Qoheleth, is distinguished by an ‘almost total disinterest ... in the liturgical life of the
Jewish people’.4 Such a statement needs qualification, since the MT’s version of the
story is obviously providing a basis for the addition of Purim to the liturgical calendar.
Nevertheless, Levenson insists on the book’s ‘considerable distance from the sacral insti-
tutions of ancient Israel’ and maintains that it gives no hint of an expected restoration of
the Temple and the divine service.5 The intentional avoidance of Yhwh and the Temple
cult in Megillat Esther is evident and could hardly appear more complete.
Understandably, the silence on these matters in a work of presumably ‘sacred’ litera-
ture has caused a great deal of bewilderment for readers. Charles C. Torrey has remarked,
for example, that the book had ‘a notoriously “unreligious” appearance’.6 This has occa-
sionally resulted in exegetically implausible readings of the text that seek to identify
covert references to Yhwh.7 In contrast, it has led other readers to question whether the
book should be considered ‘sacred’ literature at all. Adele Berlin opines, ‘Esther is the
most “secular” of the biblical books, making no reference to God’s name, to the Temple,
to prayer, or to distinctive Jewish practices such as kashrut’.8 This assessment would
seem to find further confirmation in the apparent brutality of two of the main characters,
who legislate the slaughter of their people’s foes. Such dubious moral features have led
some to question the book’s place within the canon altogether. Lewis Paton’s disparaging
assessment of Esther has often been cited: ‘The book is so conspicuously lacking in reli-
gion that it should never have been included in the Canon of the OT, but should have
been left with Judith and Tobit among the apocryphal writings’.9

“Wisdom in the Book of Esther”. VT 13 (1963) 419-55, esp. 428-30. As is well known, the
LXX and Alpha Text of Esther contain explicit references to God and to prayer. The book’s
textual history is complicated, to say the least, and each version of the story deserves its own
analysis, but this paper will be focused on the MT.
  2. Jon D. Levenson, Esther (OTL; Louisville: Westminster John Knox, 1997), 17; see also Firth,
Message of Esther, 20; Fox, Character and Ideology, 240; Goswell, “Keeping God Out of the
Book of Esther”, 100.
  3. Timothy S. Laniak, “Esther”, in Ezra, Nehemiah, Esther (Leslie C. Allen and Timothy S.
Laniak; NIBC 9; Peabody: Hendrickson, 2003), 167-269, esp. 186.
 4. Levenson, Esther, 14-15.
 5. Levenson, Esther, 18.
  6. Charles C. Torrey, “The Older Book of Esther”, HTR 37 (1944), 1-40, esp. 9.
  7. Some have thus sought to find examples of the Tetragrammaton in the book. For a discussion,
see Laurence A. Turner, “Desperately Seeking YHWH: Finding God in Esther’s Acrostics”,
in Interested Readers: Essays on the Hebrew Bible in Honor of David J. A. Clines (ed. James
K. Aitken, Jeremy M. S. Clines, and Christl M. Maier; Atlanta: Society of Biblical Literature,
2013), 183-93.
  8. Adele Berlin, The JPS Bible Commentary: Esther (Philadelphia: Jewish Publication Society,
2001), xv; for similar remarks by other scholars, see Levenson, Esther, 17.
  9. Lewis Bayles Paton, A Critical and Exegetical Commentary on the Book of Esther (ICC; New
York: Scribner’s, 1908), 97.
Rogland 101

By and large, however, Paton’s conclusions have not been shared by the majority of
OT scholars. The concept of divine providence has most often been invoked to address
the conundrum presented by the apparent absence of God in a biblical book. Although
dissenting opinions can be found, it is widely accepted that the intricately arranged series
of remarkable ‘coincidences’ that drive the book’s plot need to be interpreted as a sign of
a divine hand working behind the scenes.10 The validity of such an approach is assumed
in this article, though Timothy Laniak adds an important nuance when he observes, ‘it is
not so much the presence of God but the hiddenness of God in human events that the
story articulates’.11 All things considered, it is best to view the book’s avoidance of ‘reli-
gious’ language as part of the author’s literary strategy for speaking to a post-exilic audi-
ence, many of whom undoubtedly lived in a diaspora setting in which the miracle-working
God of Scripture would have seemed distant or hidden.12
While accepting this basic literary and theological analysis of the book of Esther, the
present study will also seek to add some significant qualifications to it. It will argue that
Megillat Esther contains stronger hints of Yhwh’s presence than have been previously
noted. Specifically, it will seek to demonstrate that various terms and expressions
employed in the book carry associations with the Temple and its cult. While it is true that
the book avoids direct references to priests, temples, or sacred rituals as part of its liter-
ary strategy, the terminology used contains a number of subtle verbal cues evoking the
Temple’s structure, accoutrements, functionaries, rites, and the like. What emerges is that
there is much more ‘religious’—specifically, ritual or liturgical—coloring to the text
than has typically been acknowledged. The aim of this study is to draw attention to these
verbal cues, which have largely been neglected. It will also seek to sketch out briefly
some potential implications these cultic references have for the interpretation of the
book.
This study’s focus on key terms utilized in Esther necessitates a few words concerning
the book’s linguistic profile, although the following is not a study of the language of
Esther per se. While the historical development of the Hebrew language has been a sub-
ject of particularly spirited debate for the past 15-20 years, the present article is largely
in agreement with the long-standing consensus as represented by the recent nuanced

10. For example, see Bush, Esther, 323, and Clines, Ezra, Nehemiah, Esther, 268-70. Michael V.
Fox takes issue with this view in his article “The Religion of the Book of Esther”, Judaism
39.2 (1990) 135-47 (later reprinted in Character and Ideology, 235-47). Fox is not persuaded
that the “coincidences” in the text do more than potentially hint in God’s direction (Character
and Ideology, 290); indeed, he maintains that “the coincidences of Esther are not so far-
fetched as to be incredible as natural occurrences” (ibid., 241). Similar comments are made by
Beal (“Esther”, xxii), who believes that a “theological” reading is possible but not required,
asserting that the text “allows equally for a reading that makes no recourse whatsoever
to God-talk of any kind.” Levenson (Esther, 19-21) and Bush (Esther, 325-6) have made
substantive criticisms of Fox’s “agnostic” position, but his later responses to them (Character
and Ideology, 289-91) do little more than repeat his earlier assertions. Although it cannot be
argued in detail here, the present article accepts the view that it is “impossible to read the
story as merely a tale of human wisdom and cunning” (Clines, Ezra, Nehemiah, Esther, 270).
Rather, in Megillat Esther, “God acts behind the veil of causality and chance, on behalf of
the people of Israel” (Abraham D. Cohen, “‘Hu Ha-goral’: The Religious Significance of
Esther”, Judaism 23 [1974] 87-94, esp. 124).
11. Laniak, “Esther”, 185.
12. Cf. Beal, “Esther”, xix-xx.
102 Journal for the Study of the Old Testament 44(1)

treatment of Robert Holmstedt and John Screnock.13 They conclude that Esther shares
linguistic features with earlier biblical texts as well as later ones; the former phenomenon
is entirely expected in view of the typical course of language development, while the
latter provides an indication of the book’s native linguistic milieu. Holmstedt and
Screnock offer a robust presentation of the book’s status as an exemplar of ‘late’ biblical
Hebrew and in the process refine previous scholarly studies of the subject. This dia-
chronic profile is not argued but assumed here. The reason for noting it at this juncture is
not because this study seeks to trace historical developments within the biblical Hebrew
lexicon,14 but rather because at a number of points it appeals to the data of post-biblical
Hebrew, specifically rabbinic texts, as a potential source of lexical information. With
some unusual or rare biblical lexemes, the rabbinic corpus can occasionally shed light on
their meaning and it is therefore worth taking into account, particularly when dealing
with a late text such as Esther.15

Temple functionaries and furnishings

A clear-cut example of the liturgical imagery in the book of Esther can be observed in the
designation of Bigthan and Teresh as ‘guardians of the threshold’ (‫ )שמרי הסף‬in 2.21 and
6.2. The phrase ‘guardian(s) of the threshold’ occurs several times elsewhere in the Hebrew
Bible and it is used exclusively of Temple or Tabernacle functionaries who were to ensure
its sanctity.16 Indeed, according to some strands of the biblical tradition, this guardianship
was a Levitical (2 Chr 34.9) or priestly duty (2 Kgs 12.10). In contrast, royal guards are
consistently indicated by the participle ‫רצים‬, as in 1 Kgs 14.27 ‘And he committed them
into the hands of the officers of the guard (‫)הרצים‬, who guarded the king’s house’.17 The
distinction between ‫ שמרי הסף‬and ‫ רצים‬is clear and consistent in the OT; what is more, the
terms are sufficiently attested to allow us to conclude that the titles given to Bigthan and
Teresh are much more suggestive of cultic functionaries than of royal bodyguards.
By describing Bigthan and Teresh as ‫שמרי הסף‬, the Persian court takes on overtones
of the Temple/Tabernacle complex, under the watch of a special order of sacred guards.
There is a subtle but unmistakable irony to this, of course: While king’s court is being
depicted in terms evocative of Yhwh’s sanctuary, the reality is that what one encounters
there is not holiness but intrigue, plots of violence, and Realpolitik. Scholars of the book
have suggested that it presents a parody of the Persian Empire in many ways, and the
employment of cultic imagery indeed serves as one instrument for its veiled critique of
the king and his court.

13. Robert D. Holmstedt and John Screnock, Esther: A Handbook on the Hebrew Text (Baylor
Handbook on the Hebrew Bible; Waco: Baylor University Press, 2015), 17-32 and 265-69.
14. For a recent attempt at this, see Avi Hurvitz, A Concise Lexicon of Late Biblical Hebrew.
Linguistic Innovations in the Writings of the Second Temple Period (SVT 160; Leiden &
Boston: Brill, 2014).
15. For our purposes it is not necessary to be any more specific than identifying the text as post-
exilic. A range of dates has been proposed for the book from the Persian to the Maccabean eras;
see, inter alia, Bush, Esther, 296; Clines, Ezra, Nehemiah, Esther, 271-72; Fox, Character
and Ideology, 140; Levenson, Esther, 25-27; Moore, Esther, lvii-lx.
16. See 2 Kgs 12.10; 22.4; 23.4; 25.18; 1 Chr 9.19; 2 Chr 34.9; Jer 35.4; 52.24.
17. See also 1 Sam. 22.17; 2 Sam. 15.1; 1 Kgs 1.5; 14.27, 28; 2 Kgs 10.25; 11.4, 6, 11, 13, 19; 2
Chr 12.10, 11.
Rogland 103

An example of an object with cultic associations in Esther is the ‫פור‬, the namesake
of the festival of Purim instituted in the book’s closing chapters. It is explained in 3.7
to be the equivalent of ‘lots’ (‫)גורלים‬, which are frequently utilized throughout the OT,
although the precise mechanics of how they functioned remains uncertain.18 Whether
they provided binary ‘yes/no’ responses or answers of greater complexity, ‫ גורלים‬were
employed when divine revelation of some form was needed in order to make correct
decisions (e.g. Jon 1.7), and the lot’s result was viewed as being under Yhwh’s control
(Prov 16.33). Evidence from the ANE and from ancient Greek literature likewise indi-
cates that the casting of lots was viewed as a sacred, ritual activity by which one sought
divine revelation and wisdom.19 In the Iliad, for example, prayer to the gods accompa-
nies the casting of lots (3.314-323; 7.175-180). Although sometimes poorly preserved,
Hittite texts provide several instances of lot casting occurring in sacred sites or adminis-
tered by priestly figures.20 Two famous ANE examples are particularly worth mention-
ing as illustrations of the use of lots to obtain revelation from Assyrian deities. From the
31st year of Shalmaneser III, the Black Obelisk records (lines 174-175), ina 31 palēja
šanûtēšu pu-ú-r[u] ina pan Aššur Adad akruru ‘In my thirty-first regnal year, when I
threw the die for a second time before Aššur and Adad ...’ In addition, an actual clay lot
belonging to a court official of Shalmaneser III states (lines 20-23), ina pan Aššur Adad
pu-ur-šu li-[la]-a ‘may he throw his die before Aššur and Adad’.21 In sum, both biblical
and comparative data converge to indicate that Haman’s use of lots in the book of Esther
carries overtones of divination.22
Given the theme of subtle providential guidance that undergirds the book of Esther,
the use of lots as a plot device is certainly fitting in the narrative. At the same time, the
very fact that the term ‫ פורים‬was adopted as the name of a recurring liturgical festival
invites one to consider whether it might have additional ritual associations.23 It is worth

18. See, inter alia, Johannes Lundblom, “Lot-casting in the Old Testament”, VT 12.2 (1962) 164-
78; William Hallo, “The First Purim”, BA 46 (1983) 19-26; Anne Marie Kitz, “The Hebrew
Terminology of Lot Casting and Its Ancient Near Eastern Context”, CBQ 62.2 (2000) 207-14,
with references to additional literature.
19. See Hallo, “The First Purim”, 20.
20. See CHD P3 373-375 and Ada Taggar-Cohen, “The Casting of Lots Among Hittites in Light
of Ancient Near Eastern Parallels,” JANES 29 (2002) 97-103.
21. For text and translation, see CAD P 528b-529a and A. Kirk Grayson, Assyrian Rulers of the
Early First Millennium BC II (858-745 BC) (Royal Inscriptions of Mesopotamia Assyrian
Periods, vol. 3; Toronto: University of Toronto Press, 1996), 70 and 179; see also Hallo, “The
First Purim,” 20-21.
22. Cohen suggests that Haman’s intent in casting pur is not “religious” in nature but rather
expresses his ability to deal with the Jews “by chance alone” (“Hu Ha-goral”, 124). On
the contrary, Fox maintains that Haman was attempting to consult his gods (Character and
Ideology, 242-3); see also Goswell, “Keeping God out of the Book of Esther”, 100-1, and
Abraham Winitzer, “The Reversal of Fortune Theme in Esther: Israelite Historiography in Its
Ancient Near Eastern Context,” Journal of Ancient Near Eastern Religions 11 (2011) 170-218,
esp. 171-2.
23. For an extensive examination of the ‫ פור‬and other divinatory elements (chiefly Babylonian) in
Esther, see the detailed study by Winitzer, “The Reversal of Fortune Theme in Esther,” 188-
212. For example, Winitzer argues that phrases such as “the wise men who knew the times”
(1.13) refers to astrologers (“Reversal of Fortune,” 207-8) and that the narrative’s precision in
providing dates reflects Babylonian hemerological interests in determining “auspicious” and
“inauspicious” days for pursuing a proposed course of action (“Reversal of Fortune,” 191-
104 Journal for the Study of the Old Testament 44(1)

noting that, in the Tanakh, ‫ גורלים‬are utilized in various situations involving the priest-
hood, as in Hittite texts. For example, ‫ גורלים‬are used as part of the Day of Atonement
ritual (Lev 16.8-10), and elsewhere they are utilized for the ordering of priestly and
Levitical duties.24 It may even be suggested that the imagery of casting lots in the book
of Esther evokes the high priestly use of the Urim and Thummim, a device that was at the
very least analogous to the ‫ גורלים‬in terms of attaining divine revelation.25 These objects
were evidently sacral in nature, being contained in the high priest’s breastplate (Exod
28.30) and utilized in a cultic setting.26 In view of the ANE material, Jonathan Grossman
notes the curious phrase in Est 3.7 that the ‫ גורלים‬are said to be cast ‘before Haman’
(‫)לפני המן‬, likewise suggesting a ritualized context in which the casting is done by an
intermediary such as a priest.27 All things considered, then, the casting of ‫ פור‬in the book
of Esther should be understood as lending a cultic flavor to the narrative.
Several additional liturgical associations pertaining to the Temple/Tabernacle furnish-
ings can be found in Est 1.6, which is particularly vexing from a philological perspective
due to its high concentration of rare words:28

There was white material of fine linen (‫ )חור כרפס‬and blue material (‫[ )תכלת‬of fine linen],
fastened by cords of flax (‫ )בוץ‬and purple material (‫ )ארגמן‬upon rods of silver; and there were
columns of marble (‫ ;)עמודי שש‬there were couches of gold and silver upon a pavement (‫)רצפת‬
of marble (‫ )שש‬and alabaster (‫)בהט‬, and mother-of-pearl (‫ )דר‬and precious stone (‫)סחרת‬.

This verse is purely descriptive in nature and as such is not particularly significant for
the book’s plot. Moreover, several of the words used are completely unattested elsewhere
and are thus lexically uncertain. Nevertheless, some of the better-attested terms should
be understood as evoking a cultic atmosphere, namely,

1. The nouns ‫ תכלת‬and ‫ ארגמן‬are common in the Hebrew Bible and refer respec-
tively to ‘blue material’ and ‘purple material’ such as linen, thread, and so on. With

203). Thus, e.g., the term “good day” (‫ )יום טוב‬has religious connotations as an “auspicious
day,” corresponding not to a simple “(legal) holiday” as in later rabbinic literature but rather
to the Akkadian phrase ūmutābu, a day of good omen when a certain undertaking would be
more likely to receive divine blessing (“Reversal of Fortune,” 203-4). Winitzer relates the
book’s employment of Babylonian divination terminology to the widely noticed theme of
reversal in the book, thus arguing that the numerous allusions to divinatory practices actually
serve as a critique of them, highlighting how ultimately useless they are in determining the
course of events.
24. 1 Chr 24.5, 7, 31; 25.8-9; 26.13-14; Neh 10.35.
25. To be sure, there is debate concerning the exact nature of these objects. For a detailed survey
of the literature, see Cornelis Van Dam, The Urim and Thummim: A Means of Revelation in
Ancient Israel (Winona Lake: Eisenbrauns, 1997). Van Dam concludes that their role was
robustly revelatory in function and did not simply provide binary (yes/no) answers to ques-
tions, as is commonly thought. Whether or not this is the case, the basic analogy between the
‫פורים‬/‫ גורלים‬on the one hand and the Urim and Thummim on the other is valid.
26. Cf. Num 27.21 ‫“ ושאל לו במשפט האורים לפני יהוה‬And he [viz., Eleazar] shall ask for him in
the judgment of the Urim before Yhwh”.
27. Grossman, Esther, 96. See also n.22 above in regard to Haman’s casting of ‫ פור‬as an attempt
at divination.
28. For a recent grammatical and lexical discussion of this verse, see Holmstedt and Screnock,
Esther, 44-47.
Rogland 105

very few exceptions, these terms occur in passages dealing with the Tabernacle,
its furnishings, and the priestly garb. For example, ‫ תכלת‬and ‫ ארגמן‬are used in
the construction of the Tabernacle curtains: ‘And you shall make the Tabernacle,
with ten curtains of twisted linen, and blue material (‫ )תכלת‬and purple material
(‫( ’… )ארגמן‬Exod 26.1; see also vv.31, 36; 27.16). The two colors also occur in
the directives for the high priest’s ephod, breastpiece, and robe (Exod 28.5, 6, 8,
15, 28, 31, 33, etc.). The result of the plentiful attestation of ‫ תכלת‬and ‫ ארגמן‬is
that their cultic associations are very strong, both in Est 1.6 and in the later refer-
ence to Mordecai’s clothing in 8.15.29
2. Mention is also made of ‘columns of marble’ (‫ )עמודי שש‬on which the banquet
hall’s curtains or tapestries were hung. The word for ‘column’ (‫ )עמוד‬is admit-
tedly quite common in biblical Hebrew, occurring over 100 times, and it is used
in a variety of settings. Notably, however, the vast majority of its occurrences in
the plural refer to columns of either the Tabernacle or Temple, with only a rela-
tively small number referring to actual pillars of some other structure.30 In other
words, in the Tanakh, a building with ‘columns’ is in most cases the Tabernacle or
Temple.31 It may further be noted that the ‘columns’ in Est 1.6 are being used to
hang tapestries or curtains, evoking a picture of the Tabernacle, in which curtains
upon columns served to demarcate sacred space.32

Other terms in Est 1.6, though infrequently attested, are nevertheless suggestive of a
liturgical context:

3. The term ‫ בוץ‬refers to linen made of flax, and is only attested eight times in bibli-
cal Hebrew, including this instance and Est 8.15. Admittedly, the examples are
relatively few, but it is noteworthy that ‫ בוץ‬has cultic or priestly associations in
all cases except one.33 Given that ‫ בוץ‬occurs in conjunction with the examples
just discussed, which are strongly evocative of the Israelite cult, it is natural to
associate the term with Temple furnishings.34
4. The noun ‫‘ רצפה‬pavement’ is likewise uncommon in biblical Hebrew, occur-
ring only five times, but in each instance, it refers to the pavement of the
Temple (2 Chr 7.3; Ezek 40.17, 18; 42.3). This usage is attested in post-
biblical texts as well, where ‫ רצפה‬sometimes refers to the pavement of
synagogues.35

29. See Grossman, Esther, 23-24.

30. The structure in Judges 16 is probably a Philistine temple (cf. vv.23-24). Royal buildings
are in view in 1 Kgs 7.2, 3, 6, and the other uses not referring to a physical sanctuary are
metaphorical in nature (Job 9.6; 26.11; Psa 75.4; Prov 9.1; Cant 3.10; 5.15).
31. Cf. Paton, Esther, 139.
32. See Exod 26.32, 37; 27.10-12, 14-17; 35.11, 17; 36.36, 38; 38.10-12, 14-15, 17, 19, 28; 39.40;
etc.
33. See 1 Chr 15.27; 2 Chr 2.13; 3.14; 5.12. In Ezek 27.16 ‫ בוץ‬is simply mentioned in a list of
Tyre’s trade wares.
34. Cf. Grossman, Esther, 23. For discussion of the term from a diachronic perspective, see
Hurvitz, Concise Lexicon, 48-51.
35. Marcus Jastrow, Dictionary of the Targumim, Talmud Babli, Yerushalmi and Midrashic
Literature (reprint of 1886-1903 original; New York: Judaica Press, 1975), 1495.
106 Journal for the Study of the Old Testament 44(1)

In sum, Est 1.6 is describing the assembly space for the feasts of King Achashveirosh,
yet it does so in terms that would strike the biblically literate reader as reminiscent of
the Temple/Tabernacle complex. Such associations have not gone entirely unnoticed in
the history of exegesis, and in fact were commonplace in early rabbinic interpretation.
Both the Midrash and Targumim are explicit in understanding there are sacred vessels,
priestly garments, and other items of the Temple present at the feast of chap. 1. In
regard to the ‘drinking vessels’ mentioned in Esther’s opening chapter, Est. Rab. 1.7
states, ‘He [i.e. Achashveirosh] brought his own vessels and the vessels of the Temple
(‫’)כלי בית המקדש‬.36 This remark was most likely based on inferences drawn from the
historical books and Daniel. In contrast, Est. Rab. 1.4 makes a verbal association based
on the shared word ‫תפארת‬, which also occurs in Exod 28.2 in describing the high
priestly garments:

‘R. Judah b. Simon said: ‘He showed them dishes of the Land of Israel’. R. Levi said: ‘He
showed them the high priestly garments (‫ )כהונה גדולה‬... Just as the word ‫ תפארת‬there [in Exod
28.2] refers to the garments of the high priest, so also here the word ‫ תפארת‬refers to the high
priestly garments (‫’)כהונה גדולה‬.

Analogous comments are occasionally encountered in modern scholarship, albeit not as

frequently. In his discussion of Esther 1, for example, Lewis Paton states forthrightly that
‘the author has in mind the structure of the Tabernacle in Ex. 26-27’,37 though he does
not develop this observation in any detail. Jonathan Grossman concurs, ‘In the descrip-
tion of the feast held in the royal palace, it seems that the author of Esther is seeking to
bring the image of the Temple to the mind of the reader’.38 While on one level, this could
be viewed as exalting, even deifying, the Persian king and court, Grossman suggests that
its purpose is more critical in nature:

The author of Esther seems to present the Temple in Jerusalem as an alternative to his description
of the royal palace in Shushan ... A sophisticated reader, who hears echoes of the Temple behind
the description of the royal palace, senses through the author’s hints something of the contrast
between the two edifices.39

As suggested above, the author’s employment of cultic imagery to compare the Persian
court to the Temple—and by extension, the Persian king to God—is a literary tool that
would allow him to subversively critique the Persian Empire while maintaining enough
subtlety to avoid getting into trouble. While being compared to Yhwh might inflate the
ego of a foolish and self-centered despot, the discerning reader will easily sense how
unfavorable the comparison really is. The gap between the royal court and the house of
Yhwh is so great that Samuel Wells, who briefly notes the use of Temple imagery of

36. See also Tg. Esth. 1 1.7: “He commanded that they be made to drink with the golden vessels
that were in the Temple (‫)בבית מקדשׁא‬, which Nebuchadnezzar the evil one had brought from
Jerusalem.”
37. Paton, Esther, 138.
38. Grossman, Esther, 23. Grossman also points to similarities between the narratives of Esther
and the account of the construction and inauguration of the Solomonic Temple; see ibid., 132-
133, 228-29, and idem, “‘Dynamic Analogies’ in the Book of Esther”, VT 59 (2009), 394-414,
esp. 410-12.
39. Grossman, Esther, 24.
Rogland 107

Esther 1, makes the trenchant observation that the Persian court ‘is a parody of the
Jerusalem temple’.40

Court structure and architectural terminology

Not only do the furnishings and functionaries of the Persian court bear resemblances to
those of Yhwh’s sanctuary, the structural layout also reflects that of a temple complex,
particularly the biblical description of the Tabernacle and Solomonic Temple. The
Persian palace included an ‘outer court’, an ‘inner court’ (where the royal throne was
located), and the ‘house of the king’. This structural layout corresponds to the various
Temple courts surrounding the Holy Place and Most Holy Place.41
We find a single reference to an ‘outer court’ in Est 6.4: ‘And Haman had come into
the outer court of the house of the king (‫ )לחצר בית־המלך החיצונה‬...’ There are plentiful
references to an ‘outer court’ in Ezekiel’s Temple vision, such as Ezek 10.5 ‘And the
sound of the wings of the cherubim was heard as far as the outer court (‫’)החצר החיצנה‬.42
There are references to ‘the great court’ (‫ )החצר הגדולה‬in 1 Kgs 7.9 and 12, although
there is some question whether these are speaking about a court of the Temple or rather
a separate court in Solomon’s own residence. In any event, 2 Chr 4.9 refers to ‘the great
enclosure’ (‫)העזרה הגדולה‬, which appears to be speaking about a large Temple court akin
to the ‘outer court’ of Ezekiel’s vision, though it uses the noun ‫ עזרה‬rather than ‫חצר‬.
The royal palace contains an ‘inner court’ as well: Est 5.1

And on the third day Esther put on royal (clothes) and stood in the inner court of the house
of the king (‫)בחצר בית־המלך הפנימית‬, in front of the house of the king (‫)נכח בית המלך‬, and the
king was sitting upon his royal throne in the royal house in front of the entrance of the house
(‫)נכח פתח תביה‬.43

We find numerous references elsewhere to an ‘inner court’ of the Temple, such as 1 Kgs
6.36 ‘And he built the inner court (‫’)החצר הפנימית‬.44 This ‘inner court’ of the Temple cor-
responds to the court of the Tabernacle described in Exod 27.9-19 and 38.9-20.
Hence the Persian court, just like the Temple, contained an ‘outer’ and an ‘inner’
court. According to Esther 5.1, cited just above, the king’s throne was set in the
‘inner court’ in front of the entrance to the king’s house. In other words, the inner court,
‫החצר הפנימית‬, is the place of access to the king’s own residence according to Est 5.1. If
the layout of the various Tabernacle and Temple courts is allowed to inform one’s read-
ing, the royal residence would correspond to nothing other than Yhwh’s sanctuary itself.
Thus, the king’s house is envisioned as the ‘Most Holy Place’ of the divine sanctuary.
Admittedly, ANE temple complexes shared a great many structural features, including

40. Wells, “Esther”, 27.

41. Similar observations are made by Grossman, Esther, 22.
42. See also Ezek 40.17, 20, 31, 34, 37; 42.1, 3, 7, 8, 9, 14; 44.19; 46.20, 21.
43. See also Est 4.11 “All the king’s servants and the people of the king’s provinces know that
any man or woman who comes to the king, to the inner court (‫)החצר הפנימית‬, who is not
summoned ...”
44. See also 1 Kgs 7.12; Ezek 8.3, 16; 10.3; 40.19, 23, 27, 28, 32, 44; 42.3; 43.5; 44.17, 21, 27;
45.19; 46.1.
108 Journal for the Study of the Old Testament 44(1)

the presence of courtyards.45 Whether the depiction of the Persian court was inspired spe-
cifically by the Temple in Jerusalem or by temple structures more generally, the narrative
setting should be understood as evocative of a divine sanctuary.
In light of this structural imagery, it is worth taking a second look at another archi-
tectural term that has not received much attention, namely, ‫בירה‬.46 This term is first
encountered in Est 1.2: ‘In those days, when King Achashveirosh sat upon the throne of
his kingdom in Susa, (in) the fortress (‫ )הבירה‬...’ The term ‫ בירה‬occurs 18 times in bibli-
cal Hebrew, and while it is most often understood as ‘fortress’ or ‘citadel’ in the book of
Esther,47 it is attested once in reference to the Temple: 1 Chr 29.1, 19

And David the king said to all the assembly, ‘Solomon, my son, (whom) God alone chose, is a
youth and tender, and the work is great, for the Sanctum (‫ )הבירה‬is not for man but for Yhwh
God’. ... And grant to Solomon my son a peaceful heart to keep your commandments, ordi-
nances, and statutes, and to perform the whole of it, and to build the Sanctum (‫ )הבירה‬which
I have prepared.

Even if this usage is infrequent in the biblical corpus, it was clearly part of the term’s
semantic range, and these examples from 1 Chronicles 29 should not be considered
anomalies.48 There are in fact plentiful examples in both the Mishnah and Talmud of
‫ בירה‬referring to the divine sanctuary, such as m. Pesaḥ. 3.8

And thus, whoever has gone out of Jerusalem and is reminded that he still has holy meat, if he
has passed Mount Scopus, he burns it where he is at, but if not, he turns around and burns it
before the Sanctum (‫ )לפני הבירה‬with wood from the (temple) pile.49

The use of ‫ בירה‬to refer to the Temple, occasionally attested in biblical Hebrew, is well
established in rabbinic Hebrew.
What are we to make of the use of ‫ בירה‬by the author of Esther? It should be observed
that the writer could have employed a less oblique term that referred explicitly either to
a sacred site (e.g. ‫ )מקדש‬or to a fortress (e.g. ‫ארמון‬, ‫מצודה‬, ‫מבצר‬, ‫משגב‬, ‫)מעוז‬. Instead, the
author has opted for a more equivocal term that is merely suggestive rather than explicit.
Indeed, the narrator appears to prefer to use terminology that is somewhat ambiguous in
nature; just as the book avoids direct references to God, so also it avoids terminology that
points too obviously to the worship of God.
An important point that emerges from the data surveyed thus far is that the distinction
between the royal palace and a religious sanctuary becomes blurred in the book of Esther:
The Persian court appears oddly reminiscent of the Temple/Tabernacle. In reality, this is
exactly what one would expect in light of the theme of ‘divine kingship’ in ANE litera-
ture at large and in the Hebrew Bible as well: Human kings can be presented as having
divine or quasi-divine status, and deities are portrayed in royal (kingly) terms. Samuel

45. Cf. Michael B. Hundley, Gods in Dwellings: Temples and Divine Presence in the Ancient
Near East (Writings from the Ancient World Supplement Series 3; Atlanta, GA: Society of
Biblical Literature, 2013), 132.
46. Grossman, Esther, 22-23.
47. Holmstedt and Screnock, Esther, 39.
48. Contrast Avi-Yonah, who considers this “definitely an anachronism” (cited in Hurvitz,
Concise Lexicon, 56).
49. Jastrow, Dictionary, 165. See alsο m. ‘Or. 2.12; m. Pesaḥ. 7.8; m. Zebaḥ. 12.5; m. Tamid 1.1;
m. Mid. 1.9; m. Parah 3.1; b. Zebaḥ. 119a, etc.
Rogland 109

Wells is particularly observant of this feature of the book of Esther and remarks, ‘the
portrayal of Ahasuerus is a playful but edgy parody of God’.50 Hence, if the Persian king
is being presented as somehow resembling a deity—even if it is in fact a parody—it
should not be surprising that his residence is described in terms reminiscent of a
temple.

Rites of preparation
While Temple rites and worship are, on the surface, absent from Megillat Esther, this
does not mean that the text is entirely lacking in cultic activity. Utilizing the insights of
ritual theory, Anne-Mareike Wetter has made a number of perceptive observations on the
book of Esther. For example, she analyzes the nature of the fast called for in 4.16, which
the narrator leaves remarkably unexplained in terms of its purpose. This corporate fast is
not an expression of individual spirituality but rather is intended to involve all the Jews
in Susa, Esther included. Wetter plausibly argues that Esther’s participation in this com-
munal fast with her people serves at this point in the narrative to clarify her ethno-reli-
gious identity as Jewish. From a literary perspective, this is a crucial question in need of
an answer, since by chap. 4 of the book, she has been completely separated from her
family and people by being taken into the king’s house and wed to the Persian king.51
Furthermore, the text explicitly notes that she kept her Jewish identity concealed (Est
2.10, 20), and apparently has done it so successfully that not even her husband was aware
of it. Thus, as chap. 4 opens, the identity and loyalties of Esther are an open question, and
it is only through participation in the ritual of corporate fasting that her Jewish identity is
confirmed. As Wetter puts it, ‘The effect of the fast on the narrative level seems clear:
after having been wholly absorbed into the Persian court, Esther is making a movement
back to her people’.52
The thematic bookend to the fasting ritual of 4.16 occurred earlier in chap. 2.
According to Wetter, the 12 months of preparation also represent a rite of sorts to which
Esther and the other virgins were subjected. This signified the process whereby Esther’s
Jewish identity had become obscured, having first been cut off from direct contact with
her family and people and then subsequently incorporated into the Persian king’s house-
hold. Hence the 12 months spent in ‘the house of the women’ (2.3) served as a ‘rite of
passage’ which altered the identity of the participants by separating them from their place
or people of origin, and ultimately incorporated them into a new community.53 It is for
this reason that the corporate fast of chap. 4 was needed to reassert Esther’s identity with
the Jewish people.
The suggestion that chap. 2 represents a ritual of sorts is worth exploring further, as it
finds additional confirmation in the challenging word ‫תמרוק‬. This rare word, unattested in
50. Wells, “Esther”, 30; cf. also 25, 32, 46. The veiled criticism of the Persian monarch becomes
even more pronounced when viewed against the backdrop of the widespread promotion
of “Persian imperial mythology,” particularly as represented by the Bisitun Inscription of
Darius I. On the promotion of this mythology in Aramaic literature by imperial scribes and its
relation to the Hebrew literature of the Judeans, cf. Mark Leuchter, “The Aramaic Transition
and the Redaction of the Pentateuch,” JBL 136 (2017) 249-68.
51. Anne-Mareike Wetter, “In Unexpected Places: Ritual and Religious Belonging In the Book
of Esther”, JSOT 36.3 (2012) 321-32, esp. 327, 330.
52. Wetter, “In Unexpected Places”, 331.
53. Wetter, “In Unexpected Places”, 323, 326.
110 Journal for the Study of the Old Testament 44(1)

rabbinic Hebrew, occurs three times in this chapter (vv.3, 9, and 12) and once in the Qere
of Proverbs 20.30, where the Ketiv reads the form as a Hiphil verb. The context of Esther
2 has typically been understood as referring to some sort of beauty treatment:54 Est 2.12

For thus they would complete the days of their beauty treatments (‫)מרוקיהן‬:55 six months with
oil of myrrh (‫ )בשמן המר‬and six months with spices (‫ )בבשמים‬and with the beauty treatments
of women (‫)בתמרוקי הנשים‬.

The King James Version rendered ‫ תמרוק‬as ‘purification’, but later English translations
have been largely agreed in understanding the word to refer to physical beautification
such as ‘ointments’ (RSV), ‘cosmetics’ (JPS Tanakh), ‘cosmetic treatments’ (NRSV), or
‘beauty treatments’ (CEB).56
What is the lexical evidence for this understanding of ‫תמרוק‬, apart from the fact that
it suits the general context? Although somewhat speculative in nature, the chief evidence
appealed to for the word’s meaning is etymological, focusing on the triliteral root √‫מרק‬.
The verb √‫ מרק‬is commonly glossed as ‘to scour, polish’ in the lexica,57 exemplified in
Jer 46.4 ‫‘ מרקו הרמחים‬Polish the spears!’ By extension, the notion of ‘polishing’ is then
applied to the physical preparation of the king’s virgins. Despite the general acceptance
of this understanding, however, in reality, the verb is only attested three times in biblical
Hebrew (Lev 6.21; 2 Chr 4.16; Jer 46.4).58 If we look at the verb’s more plentiful attesta-
tion in rabbinic Hebrew, we find that it can indeed denote ‘to cleanse, scour’ or ‘to pol-
ish’, as in m. Zebaḥ. 11.6 ‘If [a bronze vessel] became unclean (‫ )נטמא‬outside the
curtains, one scrapes it out and it is brought in and one scours it (‫ )ומורקו‬and rinses it in
a holy place’. What is particularly interesting about this example, however, is that the
vessel’s ‘scouring’ is part of a process of cleansing from ritual defilement; the vessel has
become ‫טמא‬, ‘unclean’, and is in need of purification. In fact, the use of the verb √‫מרק‬
to refer to ritual cleansing is by no means unusual in rabbinic Hebrew, and at times it is
even used to refer specifically to the cleansing of people from sin, as in b. Ber. 5a
‘Correction removes (‫ )ממרקין‬all of a person’s sins (‫’)עונותיו‬.59 Such examples demon-
strate that the verb √‫ מרק‬can be used in a more distinctly religious sense, even a cultic-
liturgical sense. This usage is worth considering in Esther 2 in view of the ritual context

54. Drawing upon archeological evidence, William F. Albright understands the process to involve
incense burners: see “The Lachish Cosmetic Burner and Esther 2:12”, in A Light unto My
Path: Old Testament Studies in Honor of Jacob M. Myers (ed. Howard N. Bream, Ralph D.
Heim and Carey A. Moore; Philadelphia: Temple University Press, 1974), 25-32, esp. 31.
55. ‫ מרוק‬is also a problematic word, being a hapax in biblical Hebrew, with one possible occur-
rence in the DSS (1Q38) where the context is missing. The form shares the same triliteral root
as ‫ תמרוק‬and the context is similar, and one wonders whether a tav has simply dropped off
during transmission.
56. Although the focus here is on the MT, these renderings find some support from the use of
σμῆγμα in the Greek versions, which Kristin De Troyer translates as “cleansing creams”; see
“An Oriental Beauty Parlour: An Analysis of Esther 2.8-18 in the Hebrew, the Septuagint and
the Second Greek Text” in A Feminist Companion to Esther, Judith and Susanna (ed. Athalya
Brenner; Feminist Companion to the Bible 7; Sheffield: Sheffield Academic Press, 1995),
47-70, esp. 57.
57. DCH, 5:492-3; HALAT, 2:603; BDB, 599.
58. A fourth instance can be added if one adopts the Qere reading in Prov 20.30.
59. See Jastrow, Dictionary, 846. For further examples, see b. Ber. 17a; b. Šebu. 8b; b. Yoma 86a;
t. Yoma 4:8
Rogland 111

of the scene as analyzed by Wetter: Is ‫ תמרוק‬intended to evoke cultic associations here,

or does it refer more concretely to a process of physical beautification?
Some of the items associated with ‫ תמרוק‬in Est 2.12 are particularly interesting, such
as the ‘oil of myrrh’ (‫ )שמן המר‬and the ‘spices’ or ‘balsams’ (‫ )בשמים‬used to prepare the
virgins for the king. Both ‘myrrh’ and ‘spice/balsam’ occur in non-cultic contexts in the
Hebrew Bible; for example, we find both ‫ מר‬and ‫ בשם‬occurring together in Canticles
(4.14; 5.1, 13). Significantly, however, both of these terms also occur in the directives for
making the ‘anointing oil’ used in the Tabernacle ritual of Exod 30.23, 25

And as for you: Take for yourself the choicest spices (‫)בשמים ראש‬: 500 measures of liquid
myrrh (‫)מר־דרור‬, and half that of cinnamon spice, i.e. 250 measures, and 250 measures of cane-
spice ... And you shall make it into a holy anointing oil, a mixture of ointment as the work of a
perfumer; it shall be the holy anointing oil (‫)שמן משחת־קדש‬.

It is to be noted that Est 2.12 speaks specifically of ‘oil of myrrh’ (‫)שמן המר‬, and Exodus
30 is the only other instance in which myrrh is explicitly being used in the production of
oil (‫)שמן‬. These associations suggest that ‫ תמרוק‬may be more specifically understood as
an anointing oil, rather than ‘cosmetics’ or ‘beauty treatments’ in general.
This understanding of ‫ תמרוק‬finds additional confirmation from comparative philo-
logical data. In Targumic Aramaic, the cognate noun ‫ תמרוקא‬has the sense of ‘anointing’:
Tg. Ps.-J. Lev 16.29

And this shall be for you an eternal statute: In the seventh month, the month of Tishri, on the
tenth day of the month, you shall afflict your souls, (abstaining) from food and from drink and
from the use of the bath and anointing (‫)ותמרוקא‬, and from sandals [= travel?] and marital rela-
tions; you shall not do any work.60

This ‘anointing’ in the Targum is not that of ritual consecration but rather appears to
be a non-sacral anointing with oil for health or a glowing complexion. Also, it must be
pointed out that the Esther Targumim do not employ Aramaic ‫ תמרוקא‬in Esther 2 as a
rendering of Hebrew ‫תמרוק‬. Despite these qualifications, the Aramaic noun nevertheless
provides cognate information bearing on how Hebrew ‫ תמרוק‬is to be understood.
The philological data, such as it is, suggest that ‫ תמרוק‬is not to be understood simply
as ‘beauty treatments’ or ‘cosmetics’ but more specifically as ‘anointing oil’.61 This anal-
ysis takes on greater significance when taken together with Wetter’s reading of Esther 2
as a preparatory rite for entering the king’s presence. In such a context, ‫ תמרוק‬appears
not as a mere beautifying agent but rather as an element needed for the ritual preparation
or purification of the virgins. If it is indeed the case, as argued here, that the Persian court
is being subtly depicted as a kind of Temple complex and the Persian king presented in
deific terms—then we appear to be dealing with ‘a playful satire on the preparations for
encountering God in the tabernacle’.62 To be sure, both the noun ‫ תמרוק‬and the cognate
60. So also Tg. Ps.-J.Num 29.7 “And on the tenth day of the seventh month, the month of Tishri,
you shall have a holy convocation and you will afflict your souls, (abstaining) from food and
drink, from the bathhouse and anointing (‫)ותמרוקא‬, from the sandal and marital relations; you
shall not do any servile work.” See Jastrow, Dictionary, 1679.
61. Cf. Gillis Gerleman, Esther (BKAT 21; Neukirchen-Vluyn: NeukirchenerVerlag, 1973), 76,
though he understands the application of oil in a medicinal or cosmetic sense.
62. So Wells, “Esther”, 38. Timothy Beal likewise comments that “the ritualized, almost sac-
rificial sense of the procedure, gives Ahasuerus an almost deified character” (The Book of
112 Journal for the Study of the Old Testament 44(1)

verb √‫ מרק‬are less semantically marked than technical terms such as ‫טהר‬, ‫חטא‬, ‫קדש‬, or
‫כפר‬, which more explicitly communicate notions of ritual purification, cleansing from
sin or ceremonial uncleanness, atonement, and so on. However, the word choice fits well
with the book’s literary strategy as explained above: The author is anxious to avoid obvi-
ous references to God by utilizing terms that are more subtly suggestive of cultic con-
cepts and Temple ritual.

Conclusion
Other possible evocations of the Temple cult in the book of Esther could be explored,63
but hopefully this initial survey is sufficient to demonstrate the plausibility of the thesis
advanced here, namely, that Megillat Esther persistently utilizes terminology evocative
of the Temple, Temple ritual, and priesthood. Particular lexical items may vary in their
degrees of plausibility when individually considered, but when taken collectively, their
combined weight takes on a greater persuasive force. For a reader steeped in the OT
Scriptures, in which the Temple and the priesthood play such an important role, the
book’s cultic associations would have come naturally to mind in several instances. In the
final analysis, these associations are sufficiently strong as well as constant enough for the
reader to conclude that they are intentional.
This conclusion contains several implications for the interpretation of the book. In the
first place, it severely undermines Michael Fox’s claim that the book is to be read as an
independent work, without reference to a canonical context.64 The book of Esther has in
fact been shaped by the Israelite cult, and that influence must have originated some-
where, whether it was mediated in written form directly from the biblical texts them-
selves or through the shared memories or experiences of participation in Second Temple
worship.65 Regardless of the exact medium, reading the book of Esther as intended
requires one to read it with reference to the broader canon of Scripture.66
Furthermore, an appreciation of the book’s cultic evocations serves to clarify some of
the chief dramatic elements of the story’s plot and underlying message. The Temple/
Hiding: Gender, Ethnicity, Annihilation, and Esther [London: Routledge, 1997], 37). Cf. also
De Troyer, “Oriental Beauty Parlour”, 49-53. It would be worth exploring whether this is
reflected in the Greek versions’ use of the noun θεραπεία in v.12 (αἱ ἡμέραι τῆς θεραπείας),
which can have a liturgical sense of worshipping or paying homage to a deity.
63. E.g., Grossman, Esther, 23-24, suggests that the verb √‫ יסד‬in Est 1.8 may have been intended
to create associations with its use elsewhere for the establishing of the foundations of the
Temple (1 Kgs 6.37; Hag 2.18; Zech 8.9) or of Zion (Isa 14.32; 28.16).
64. Fox, Character and Ideology, 238.
65. This is true even if those experiences were chiefly or exclusively mediated through the syna-
gogue rather than the actual Temple. There is significant textual and archaeological evidence
suggesting that the Temple exercised a determining influence on not only the physical layout
of synagogues but also the liturgy. See especially Donald D. Binder, Into the Temple Courts.
The Place of the Synagogues in the Second Temple Period (SBLDS 169; Atlanta: Society
of Biblical Literature, 1999) and, more concisely, Peter J. Leithart, “Synagogue or Temple?
Models for the Christian Worship”, WTJ 63 (2002) 119-33, esp. 124-29.
66. This point finds additional confirmation from the book’s employment of intertextuality, which
has been discussed by many scholars: see e.g. Beal, “Esther”, xx; Gerleman, Esther, 11-23;
Grossman, Esther, 218-32; Firth, Message, 33-34; Clines, Ezra, Nehemiah, Esther, 266-8;
Nathan Ward, God Unseen: An Introduction to the Book of Esther (Chillicothe: DeWard Pub-
lishing, 2016) 56-76; Berlin, Esther, xxxvi-xli; Laniak, “Esther”, 172-4.
Rogland 113

Tabernacle ritual was centered on the involved processes of gaining access to the presence
of God, the divine king, in the sanctuary through atonement and cleansing. In much the
same way, an important part of the drama of the book of Esther is centered on the heroine’s
gaining access to the presence of the king and finding favor in his sight. After all, the impe-
tus for Esther’s eventual rise to the queenship originated in Vashti’s refusal to come into the
king’s presence (Est 1.11-12, 17, 19)—the very thing that Esther will seek later in the nar-
rative. Even though the king ‘loved Esther more than all the women’ (2.17) and she became
his queen, she later experienced a 30-day separation from the king (Est 4.11), which neces-
sitated repeated urgings from Mordecai to persuade her to go to the king in order to inter-
cede for her people. The real peak of dramatic tension occurs not in chap. 7, when Esther
reveals Haman’s plot, but in chap. 5, when she enters the ‘inner courtyard’ unbidden and
approaches the king. The king has previously demonstrated his foolish and rash nature
(chap. 1), and therefore the moment of greatest uncertainty surrounds Esther’s appearance
before him and the question of whether she will be favorably received in his presence.
As the events of the book play out and the Jews are delivered from their enemies,
Esther’s favorable reception from the king, repeated several times over (5.3, 6; 7.2), can
be viewed as reflective of her people’s acceptance before Yhwh. This would have been a
matter of keen interest to the book’s diasporic audience, since the trauma of the Exile
raised the question of whether the people had been rejected by Yhwh. The deliverance
that arises in the book of Esther (cf. Est 4.14) provided affirmation that they still ‘found
favor’ before him. Esther’s experience of being exalted to royal status, undergoing a
period of uncertainty regarding her continued acceptance, and receiving final confirma-
tion of her favor in the king’s eyes forms a natural analogy for the nation’s experience of
deliverance, Exile and restoration. Thus Jon Levenson, for example, calls Esther (and
Mordecai) ‘allegorizations of Israel’s national destiny’. This is a bold claim not likely to
be accepted by many as it stands, but he immediately provides some qualifications as to
what he means by further describing them more modestly as ‘representative of the Jewish
people collectively’ and a ‘personification of national hopes’.67
This way of reading the text finds fascinating confirmation in the tradition of Jewish
liturgical prayer, which has seen Esther as representative of the worshipping community
as a whole.68 At Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur, supplementary prayers are inserted
into the Amidah liturgy known as the Uvekhen additions, utilizing the Hebrew phrase
‫‘( ובכן‬and so’):69

And so (‫ )ובכן‬set your fear, O Lord our God, upon all your handiwork, and your terror upon
all that you created ... And so (‫ )ובכן‬grant glory, O Lord, to your people ... And so (‫ )ובכן‬let the
righteous see and rejoice ...

These liturgies also contain the piyyut known as Unetanneh Tokef ( ‘And let us declare
the power’), which is likewise introduced with the same Hebrew phrase: ‘And so (‫)ובכן‬

67. Levenson, Esther, 16; see also Aaron Koller, Esther in Ancient Jewish Thought (Cambridge:
Cambridge University Press, 2014), 57.
68. For further discussion, see the author’s essay, “‘And So I Will Go Unto the King’: Prayer and
the Book of Esther,” in Faithful Ministry: An Ecclesial Festschrift in Honor of the Rev. Dr.
Robert S. Rayburn (ed. Max Rogland; Eugene: Wipf and Stock, forthcoming 2019).
69. On the different textual traditions of the Amidah at this point, see Leon J. Liebreich, “The In-
sertions in the Third Benediction of the Holy Day ‘Amidoth”, Hebrew Union College Annual
35 (1964) 79–101.
114 Journal for the Study of the Old Testament 44(1)

let our consecration [of your name] ascend to you, for you, O our God, are king!’ This
Hebrew phrase only occurs twice in the biblical corpus, one of which is found at the
exact moment when Esther resolves to intercede with the king (Est 4.16): ‘And so (‫ )ובכן‬I
will go unto the king, though it is not according to the law, and if I perish, I perish’.70 The
rarity of the Hebrew phrase and the intercessory context of chap. 4 has invited later read-
ers to see an analogy between Esther’s approach to Achashveirosh and the worshipping
community’s approach to their divine king in prayer. This association has been made at
least since the 14th century in Rabbi David Abudarham’s commentary on the synagogue
liturgy.71 One modern source on Jewish liturgy remarks on the Uvekhen additions, ‘Just
as Esther prayed and fasted for three days before approaching Achashveirosh to save the
Jewish people, so we, too, approach the King on the Day of Judgment, asking God to
accept repentance’.72
The basic act of approaching the king, given the liturgical-cultic setting of the narra-
tive, very naturally suggests an analogy with divine intercession. While one is under-
standably hesitant to consider Esther an ‘allegory’, it seems valid to describe her as a
‘representative’ or ‘personification’ of her people. The book’s subtle yet unmistakable
depiction of its setting in cultic terms, combined with the narrative’s interest in gaining
access to the king for the purpose of petitioning him, invite the reader to consider the
story’s meaning and characters on a deeper, more theological level. Ironically, it turns out
that this book, which so studiously avoids mentioning either God or prayer, tells a story
that is rich with the imagery of divine intercession.

70. The only other biblical occurrence is Qoh 8.10. Holmstedt and Screnock (Esther, 158) argue
that the phrase means “thereupon” or “in such circumstances.”
71. R. David Abudarham, SeferAbudarham (Lisbon, 1489), Prayers for Rosh Hashanah, par. 14.
72. The Encyclopedia of Jewish Prayer. Ashkenazic and Sephardic Rites (ed. Macy Nulman;
London: Jason Aronson, 1996), 335. Reuven Kimelman makes similar comments regarding
the liturgical usage of Unetanneh Tokef, see “U-N’taneh Tokef as a Midrashic Poem”, in The
Experience of Jewish Liturgy: Studies Dedicated to Menachem Schmelzer, edited by Deborah
Blank Reed. Leiden: Brill, 2011, 115–146, esp. 120.