Sermon: Seventeenth Sunday after Pentecost

The Rev. Allan Sandlin, associate rector

For several years, my wife, Gretchen, taught Sunday School to a group of children, mostly girls as I recall.

She didn’t have a curriculum to teach by, so together with her friend, Sue, she designed the classes and planned each lesson. Gretchen and Sue were less concerned with learning Bible verses by heart, though that’s a very good thing to do, and more interested in trying to open windows of possibility for the children, windows through which they could know something of God’s love.

One year, when the children were 8 or 9 years old, the two teachers set out to look for women in the Bible whose stories they might share with the class. They found Deborah and Mary Magdalene, Sarah and Rachel, Lydia and I hope they encountered the Syrophoenician woman, the one who helped Jesus change his mind in the gospel lesson a couple of weeks ago.

Of course, Ruth and Naomi were there—they spent several weeks on Ruth and Naomi.

And then there was Esther. One of two women in the Bible to have a book named after them. You’ll find the Book of Esther in the Old Testament, tucked in between Nehemiah and Job. The story of Esther is short enough that you could easily read it in one sitting, like a good Flannery O’Conner short story.

And it’s full of intrigue, fascinating characters capable of great evil and brave, bold action.

They took several Sunday mornings to tell Esther’s story.

On Esther’s final Sunday with them, the students had a great time dressing up in quasi- 5th century BCE Persian clothing, using lots of scarves.

They acted out the entire saga of Esther, who begins as an orphaned young girl, powerless; she’s a young girl and she’s also a Jew living in a Gentile world.
The children had listened in awe the previous weeks to the story of the wicked Haman and his plot to destroy all the Jewish people, simply because one Jew, Mordecai, refused to bow down to him.

They laughed at King Ahasureus and his antics in the court, his gullibility and how easily manipulated he was.

They nodded their heads with satisfaction when Mordecai told his cousin, Esther, of Haman’s plan. How Haman whispered half-truths about the Jews into the king’s ears (“they are not like us, they have strange religious practices that are foreign to us, they don’t keep the king’s laws”).

When Mordecai learned of the plan to “destroy, kill and annihilate all Jews”, he approached Esther with a plan of his own. Esther would go to her husband, the king, and plead for mercy for her people, the Jews.

Mordecai reminds Esther that she and he will not be safe from destruction simply because they reside in the king’s palace.

And then in chapter 4 of the book of Esther, he says these unforgettable words to her: “Who knows? Perhaps you have come to royal dignity for just such a time as this.”


Now, I wasn’t there but I’d guess the Sunday School teachers may opted not to tell their young students everything that biblical scholars have noticed about this story. For instance, there’s nothing overtly religious or theological in this book of the Bible, no mention of prayers or sacrifices.

And, while Esther and Mordecai are both Jews, there is nothing to indicate that either of them followed Jewish law. Esther is, of course, married to a Gentile king, and for all appearances, she is totally assimilated into his world. That’s all a bit surprising.

But most striking and strange is that in the book of Esther, God is not mentioned at all.

Yet, God’s providence, God’s concern for the Jewish people underlies the story. God remains off-stage in this story, unseen, but working through human beings to bring about the salvation of God’s people, the people of Israel.
And so when Mordecai suggests to Esther “Who knows? Perhaps you have come to royal dignity for just such a time as this” he is challenging her to break the silence, to act boldly on behalf of her own people.

Esther listens to her cousin’s counsel, allows those words to sink in and after a few days of fasting, makes up her mind to act.

Now, she knows that there’s a law in the kingdom that forbids anyone to approach the king in his court without first being summoned.

And that even as the queen, to do so will put her life in jeopardy. And yet, she says “I will go to the king, though it is against the law; and if I perish, I perish.”

That sets the stage for the scene in today’s reading—the moment of truth when Esther invites King Ahasuerus and Haman to a banquet and once she has the king’s full attention, Esther exposes Haman’s treachery.

And by doing this, in a male-dominated, patriarchal society, Esther reverses all expectations and saves her people.

I’m glad those children met Esther, spent a few Sunday mornings listening to her story, thinking about how courageous she was. I hope that something of Esther has stayed with them, especially now that they are all teenagers.

I hope they remember something of Esther, who broke the silence of oppression and fear, and claimed her place as a brave, courageous, bold risk-taker and perhaps a God-bearer, a good news bearer.

Biblical scholar Sidnie White Crawford writes that it’s possible “Esther became queen just to fulfill God’s purpose, but humans cannot know that.”

I believe it’s risky at best and possibly dangerous for queens or presidents or clergy or Sunday School teachers to claim that they are acting on God’s behalf, directed by God.

All we can do is act, in the hope that our action corresponds to the plan and purpose of God.

So it doesn’t much bother me that God’s name isn’t mentioned in Esther’s story. I don’t need proof that she was acting according to God’s purpose because God’s fingerprints are over this story, all over Esther’s life.

Maybe you can close your eyes and call someone to mind who acted courageously, leaving behind traces of the divine, someone who has been a model of bravery and boldness for you. Who have been those models for you? When I think about people who, like Esther, have inspired me, who have encouraged me and given me hope… people through whom I have seen glimpses of God… this morning, four women here at Holy Trinity come to my mind. They are four women in the middle of their lives, all of them happen to be married with children.

And all of them have or have had breast cancer.

These four people are, in the first place, deeply connected with one another and have been offering support and encouragement to each other at the various points along the path. And I suspect there are other women here who are their companions.

But they are not afraid to talk about their experiences; they are finding their voices to share with the rest of us bits and pieces of their stories.

I hear in the voices of these women echoes of Esther, connected in a deep way with God’s dream for us all. Their story has to do specifically with cancer.

But I wonder how their courage, their willingness to be open and vulnerable, how might they inspire me and you? How is their model of courage inviting you to pay attention to the question “Where is God calling you to act boldly, to act courageously?”

Another way of saying that: maybe God is calling you to lead a life that has some salt in it.

Did you hear Jesus saying that to his disciples in the gospel lesson this morning? Don’t let all the flavor, all the zest seep out of your life!

I think Esther was a person with a considerable amount of salt. She didn’t follow the rules and in a time when women were viewed as property and could be dismissed easily, even put to death simply for showing up at the wrong time in the wrong place, she moved with grace and confidence to save her people.

Yesterday here at Holy Trinity we said goodbye to a woman who I think looked a lot like Esther.

Myree Wells Maas was salty and in her grandson’s homily at her funeral we were reminded of her inquisitive mind, her inquiring heart, her willingness to act in ways that women of her generation weren’t supposed to act.

She was, after all, a Southern lady from Decatur who grew up in the Baptist Church, but became weary of singing “Just as I am”. She went to college, worked as a purchaser for Davidson’s, made business trips to New York all by herself, met a Jewish man named Joe Maas who worked for her at Davidson’s, married him and then she became an Episcopalian.

She was a member of this parish for 50 years.

I have a hunch Myree would have held Esther in high esteem, though she might have questioned some of her tactics.

This morning we remember all of these women and we can be thankful for the seasoning they add to our lives of faith.

Whether you are our guest here this morning, or whether you’ve been coming to this parish for more than 50 years… there is work to be done.

We have stories to tell, songs to sing, and suffering, wounded souls to shelter.

Who knows?

Perhaps you have come to Holy Trinity for just such a time as this.