Photo by Victoriano Izquierdo on Unsplash

trigger warning: themes of sexual violence

I love the celebration of Purim -- a time for feasting, dressing up, and being inspired by the brave heroes in the story of Esther. We shout as loud as we can to drown out the voice of the enemy's name. We cheer when we hear the names of the ones who were courageous enough to risk everything for their people. As a child, the story of Esther was one of my favorites. However, it's come to my attention that much of what I was taught in Sunday school about this tale (especially pertaining to the women) has lacked relevant context. It's not the story I thought it was. For instance, I have only ever seen portrayals of Hadassah as a grown woman. Upon further examination of the text, it's far more likely that she was a child.

The English word young in the text is actually the Hebrew noun na'arah. According to traditional Jewish sources, this means the girls they brought to the harem were between 12 - 12 1/2 years old.* I did an image search for the purpose of this post, and was unable to find a single picture of Esther portrayed as a child online. All of the films and coloring book pages portray her as a beautiful, 20-something woman who was (albeit unwillingly) whisked off to a beautiful palace, dressed up, and won the heart of Ahasuerus through her virtuous, submissive posturing. However, the reality of Esther's age and circumstances completely change the dynamic of the history lesson. She was not a grown woman "in love," or even capable of consent; she was a child bride in exile, taken from the only family she knew, and one of many girls her age who were raped by a sex-crazed king.

There's no doubt in my mind that this story of a child trafficking victim has been heavily modified. The question is why? If it's because the truth is uncomfortable, I think we would be wise to remember that our discomfort doesn't make the truth less true, nor are our personal feelings an excuse to whitewash history. Omitting crucial context in order to make Esther's exploitation seem more palatable or "kid-friendly" does a disservice to the redemptive power of YHVH. (Is He not big enough to handle it?) It also robs us of an opportunity to affirm survivors of childhood sexual abuse.

To be clear: there's nothing wrong with teaching girls to emulate the positive characteristics of Esther -- bravery, endurance, discretion, discernment, and a willingness to save innocent lives at great personal risk. But I believe that when we teach girls to "be an Esther," while omitting the sordid context of her story, we are subtly teaching them that the exploitation of their bodies is a positive inevitability.

Then, there's Vashti. In evangelical circles, she's typically portrayed as the "wicked" queen, and a symbol of "rebellion." More than once, I've attended a sermon where it was preached that Vashti's "sin (of rebellion) cost her everything." I've heard preachers lament that she didn't "submit to and obey the authority God had put over her." But her actions aren't condemned by Scripture; the word "rebellion" isn't used in the text. Her disobedience is only condemned from a purely authoritarian standpoint, which insists that a woman disobeying her husband is always a bad thing. (Rest assured, 1 Samuel 25 will be the subject of a future article...)

If the president of the United States gathered all of his male cabinet members together for drinks, then brought his wife into the middle of the room and gave her an executive order to strip naked, who in their right mind would expect her to obey? Not to mention that (while it may not be evident in the translated texts) we would be incredibly naive to believe that all they wanted to do was look at her. Do we really want to teach our daughters that refusing to be disrobed before a crowd of drunken men and engage in an orgy, is in any way shameful or sinful? On the contrary -- I would argue that rebellion against tyrants who ask us to harm ourselves and disobey YHVH is not rebellion against YHVH. We should disobey harmful, immoral commands, no matter who issues them.**

Photo by Sharon Christina Rørvik on Unsplash

Esther and Vashti were both victims of a sex-obsessed king's entitlement. Sadly, their situation was no more uncommon for girls in their society than it is for ours today. Experts estimate no less than 1 in 5 girls worldwide will be wed (and/or sold into marriages by their parents) before their 18th birthday. As a result of being married as children, they are often isolated, denied basic human rights, and domestically abused. Child marriage is most utilized in cultures where girls are at a higher risk of being sexually harassed or assaulted unless they are another man's "property." Instead of addressing the root cause of the problem (patriarchal power structures), these cultures choose to sacrifice their daughters for the sake of maintaining the status quo.

As the hands and feet of Christ -- and those freed from the curse of Adam -- part of our kingdom work must involve setting these captives free through following the dual commands to pursue justice, and speak truth on behalf of those with no voice. Being able to tell the truth about their lived experiences is the first step to healing for many victims of sexual exploitation, but it is not easy. If the church wants to facilitate that healing process, I believe a good place to start is by being honest about the representation of victims/survivors in scripture.


* In ancient Jewish culture, a girl became a na'arah in her twelfth year of age. 6 months later, she was considered a beherot -- an unmarried, adult woman with full legal authority over herself.
** This is not intended to shame any victim who, under coercion or threat of force, obeys such an order. I only aim to vilify Vashti's actions.

i have been trying to be "strong" for a very long time.

years ago, when i was too young to know what the price would be, i made the first decision to harden my heart. growing up in an unsafe home, it was too painful to be soft and too humiliating to be vulnerable. the only way i could exercise any control over what i was going through, was to go numb. if i didn't want to hurt, i just had to not care. i still wouldn't be free, but at least i wouldn't be in pain. more importantly, i wouldn't be giving my abusers the satisfaction of seeing me break.

if you use your words as a weapon, then as a weapon, i'll shed no tears. | birdy

so, i lied. i betrayed my truth, smothering it in self-denial. it worked, to some degree. i wouldn't say i felt a sense of relief, because the assaults on my body and soul had not stopped. but contempt -- as addictive as morphine -- gave me a sense of control over my circumstances. it allowed me to dissociate from my environment and watch my life pass by from the perspective of a bystander. like taking tylenol for a brain tumor, it didn't fix any of the root causes for my pain. it just gave me enough respite to survive.

years passed, and that hardening became a normal part of life. sometimes, during an occasional period when my life was not so dark, i could put it off for a little while. but eventually, the "grace periods" always came to an end. the sun would set; the darkness would settle in again. and that old, familiar numbness would beckon. it would whisper tantalizingly in my ear, promising a sufficient dose of anesthesia in exchange for blasphemous self-deception:

if i must boast, i will boast of the things that show my weakness. | 2 Corinthians 11:30

if there is one thing that the first quarter of my life has taught me, it's this: pain is a shovel, violently thrusting its sharp steel into soft soil over and over again until it is irreversibly changed. it shatters the surface of things to create depth. without the ability to feel it, we lose the ability to grow, and when something stops growing, it dies. weakness (authenticity, transparency) leaves us wide open to the possibility of pain. but that's okay, because i am convinced that it is absolutely vital to the cultivation of a living soul.

so i now make the choice to be weak -- arms out, chest exposed. the heart that i once resented and stifled beats wildly and unmistakably in my chest. i open myself up to the possibility of being struck down, because i want to feel it all: every heartbeat, every breath, every laugh, every sob, every sting. they're all a testament to God's painful, perfect process of redemption, and to the fact that He's brought me back from the dead.

i will live out this truth every single day for the rest of my life.
and i will never, ever lie to myself again.

i hope you're reading this in comfort, because i am here to write, which at the moment is a very uncomfortable thing.

my knuckles are protesting, rusted over like the tin man who sat in the woods for who knows how long before someone came along and oiled him up. oh, how nice it must have felt to move freely in his own body again. maybe it took awhile to get used to being himself after so long, but underneath the stress of learning to walk again, i bet he felt whole. free. alive.

that's kind of how it feels to find writing again, for me.

i can't promise that what i have to say will make you smile -- that it will disentangle you from whatever emotional turmoil you're battling (if you are), or comfort you, or give you confirmation, or radically dismantle your preconceived views of society. i don't flatter myself a world-changer.

i can only promise it will be honest. and what is honesty but cleanliness? and how do you really clean something if you don't admit that it's dirty? a dusty mantel is easy to ignore, until someone comes along and strokes it with a white glove, leaving behind a narrow, undeniable trail of the truth. i tell you, it will stick out like a sore thumb till you get a rag, roll up your sleeves, and finish the job.

honesty demands authenticity, even when the dust has settled and you want to leave it alone because you know disturbing it might make it harder to breathe, might make your eyes sting for awhile. but once it's cleared away, you'll breathe more easily. and you'll be able to move about freely, without being careful not to stir up dead things.

this is an unearthing, and as with every excavation, i don't know what we'll find. it could be something shiny and precious. it could be a corpse. either way, it's begging to be noticed, seen, recognized.

so let the earth under my fingernails be confirmation -- a witness to the importance of this holy work. and let us begin.