The couriers went out hurriedly by order of the king, and
the decree was issued in Susa the citadel. And the king and Haman sat down to
drink, but the city of Susa was thrown into confusion. – Esther 3:15
I am not against people drinking. I don’t do it because, though I never had any
problem with drinking, I did have a bit of a problem with stopping. That is purely a personal issue, and the
fact that I can no longer enjoy something is not a valid reason for others with
more solid boundaries to be denied that enjoyment. Nor is there anything in the Bible
prohibiting the moderate use of alcoholic beverages for most people, despite
what some groups say. We don’t want
folks to get drunk, but strict prohibitions against wine, beer, and strong
drink are left to Islam.
It is not about drinking, but it is interesting that after a
hard twenty minutes of issuing Jew-exterminating executive orders Jarrett
and Obama Haman and Ahasuerus – who probably, like Jarrett, spoke Persian –
sat down to relax with a couple of drinks.
Meanwhile, all of Washington Susa inside the Beltway
citadel was thrown into confusion. The
point is, though, that we can often be led into plans that seem to be the
proverbial “good idea at the time”.
Someone presents one side of an argument, as Haman did, and no matter
how specious and fantastic it may be, it has a certain appeal to it. Free money for the treasury almost always
gets government’s endorsement.
Haman devised his plan out of hatred for Mordecai who had
done nothing other than wound Haman’s pride.
Haman had risen to a place of power and influence under the king. He was respected, even feared within the
corridors of power, but Mordecai ignored him.
The Jew paid Haman’s approach neither the coin of cringing obeisance nor
terrified trepidation. Despite his
otherwise notable successes, Haman was irritated and increasingly disturbed by
Mordecai’s attitude.
When we find ourselves becoming distraught by something the
first question to ask is why it seems to matter to us. During an anger management class (hard to
imagine me having to take one, right? …
Right?), I was asked exactly this question in response to a question I
raised. Taking it down to the core, we
might be surprised to find, as I was, that the answer is all too often our own
pride. Pride, the Bible says, goes
before, or perhaps leads to destruction.
This was certainly what happened with Haman.
Here we see Haman at the apex of his life, sharing a drink
in camaraderie with the most powerful individual in the world of that day. Meanwhile those couriers sent out by his own
hand are as seeds scattered upon the wind destined to grow into a harvest of
humiliation, loss, and death. This is a
tragedy by the strictest definition.
Unlike MacBeth, Haman did not seek power. He lacked even the noble delusion of avenging
a murder like Hamlet. Instead he acted out of a petulant pride, an
injured arrogance, a wounded self-worth.
Humility and pride are like two paths up opposite faces of a
mountain. The pathway of pride appears
to be the better road at the start, rising quickly to the summit, yet it is
treacherous and deceptive especially at the heights. The way of humility is more winding, longer,
less inviting and steeper when we first venture upon it, but this path remains
firm and sure under foot and is much easier going as one nears the peak.
In addition to warning us against pride, the Bible warns us
against gloating over the fall of an enemy.
Do not rejoice when your enemy
falls, and let not your heart be glad when he stumbles, lest the Lord see it
and be displeased, and turn away his anger from him (Proverbs 24:17-18). The key to avoiding a tragic turn of events
is humility. Jesus told us that he who
humbles himself will be exalted, and Jesus Himself walked in humility, taking
the “form of a servant”.
Regarding the humility of Christ, Andrew Murray observes, “His humility was simply the surrender of
Himself to God, to allow Him to do in Him what He pleased, whatever men around
might say of Him, or do to Him.”
This is quite a contrast with Haman and with many of us. It does seem to matter altogether too much
what men say about us or the fact that they would interfere with what we think
of as our rights.
It verges upon unbelief when we find ourselves unwilling to
offer an uncomfortable or even an unjust situation to the Lord. We are apt to think that we must set the
thing right ourselves, and sometimes it may be that we have no choice except to
act defensively, either in our own behalf or on the part of another. Still, the best inoculation against the
plague of pride may be to refuse to defend against slurs and insults. Instead
we can bow before the Father and offer our hurt feelings, our broken hearts
upon the altar, asking, not for vengeance upon those who have wounded us but
for healing and strength.
Our Father delights to put broken hearts back together but
only after He fills them first with His love, joy, and peace.
