ABSTRACT
Satire in particular literary forms, as distinct from proverbs and fables, has a history so long that it is impossible to say exactly when it began. Modern critics have found satirical elements in ancient Egyptian and Babylonian literature, and there is evidence for political satire in the Bible. The biblical Old Testament Book of Esther, for example, is conventionally interpreted as a straightforward story of a conflict between good and evil. It is set at the court of Ahasuerus, who “reigned from India even unto Ethiopia, over an hundred and seven and twenty provinces”, and who is usually identified with Xerxes I (King of Persia 486–465 BCE), who is mainly remembered in Western tradition for his unsuccessful invasion of Greece in 480 BCE. The king’s evil minister, Haman, enraged by the refusal of Mordecai the Jew to bow to him, seeks the destruction of the Jewish people, but with the help of his uncle’s daughter, Esther, who has become Ahasuerus’s queen, Mordecai is able to reverse the situation. Haman is hanged on the gallows which he had ordered to be prepared for Mordecai, and it is the enemies of the Jews who are destroyed. As Ze’ev Weisman (1998) suggests, however, the narrative can be read as a satire on political 33power. The king’s activities are limited to drinking and feasting, lust, and the imposition of taxes. Mordecai is not just any Jew, but one of the king’s courtiers and someone who is shown to be an astute political operator: not only does he uncover a conspiracy against the king by two of his chamberlains, but he makes sure that this is recorded in writing. It is the written record which secures for Mordecai the position of “the man whom the king delighteth to honour”, a position which Haman thought was his, and his alone. Esther secures Haman’s downfall by persuading him that he is specially favoured, as he alone is invited to dine with her and the king at the banquet where they are plied with wine for two days, after which Esther denounces Haman as the enemy of her people, and Haman’s attempt to beg Esther for his life is turned against him, in what may be intended as a ludicrous scene. Whether as a result of the wine he has taken, or in an attempt at supplication, “Haman was fallen upon the bed whereon Esther was”, and when the king sees this and asks “Will he force the queen also before me in the house?”, Haman’s fate is sealed. Even though there are several references in the text to the idea that the law of the Medes and Persians is unalterable, the king reverses his earlier commands and gives the Jews authority “to destroy, to slay, and to cause to perish” all their enemies. Over 75,000 of these are killed, but the Jews refrain from exercising the right to plunder, which they had also been given. Throughout the kingdom, royal officials help them “because the fear of Mordecai fell upon them”. At this point (Esther, ix, 3–4), Weisman notes (1998, 157), “Suddenly the description ‘Jew’ is dropped and the title ‘the man’ appears alone”. If we read the narrative as suggesting that “this man Mordecai” is, like Haman, raised to power by the capriciousness of royal favour, the implication is that this is not a secure or lasting solution to the troubles of the exiled Jews. If Mordecai can replace Haman in this manner, so, too, might another Haman replace Mordecai. As Weisman says, despite the association of the Book of Esther with the Jewish festival of Purim, “a festival notable for its frivolity and almost pagan license” and “despite the comic and grotesque elements that accompany the fall of Haman, it is doubtful that the tale radiates optimism; after all, the ‘Hamans’ of the world have not disappeared with his demise” (1998, 140, 154).
