Queen Esther Revealing
Her Identity from
a stunning series of contemporary mosaics of the Purim story by Lilian Borca.
|
Way
back in 2012 Purim, which wanders
all over the late winter/spring Gregorian Calendar because it is fixed to the ancient Hebrew calendar, and International Women’s Day fell smack
dab on the same day. If you have been hanging around this joint for
long, you know what that meant—calendar
coincidence Murfin verse.
Today,
eight years later they fall together again.
And as a calendar coincidence bonus it is also the first day of Daylight Savings Time—a trifecta! I did not, however, try to shoehorn that into a revised poem.
Since
2012, I have often recycled the poem
in Purim posts. But now laughing defiance of Queen Esther to her sisters seems much more relevant than
ever.
I
am not going into the full, fantastic
yarn related in the Old Testament Book of Esther. Suffice it to say that this tale of the Jews in the days of the Babylonian captivity sticks out in the
Bible
both because it never mentions Yahweh—it
is about tribal and cultural identity, not religion—but because it is a rip-roaring saga rife with drunken royal orgies, a lascivious king, Haman the scheming and evil vizier, treachery galore, a clever old man, a virtual
pogrom, and a defiant counter attack
that leaves goyim dead by the heap.
But mostly it is about a lovely
and virtuous teenager who is essentially abducted and sex trafficked all the way into the Royal bedroom to which she adapts
and seems to perform her duties with
exquisite and irresistible skill.
Esther
is the princes/queen who will never
be animated by Disney or warble the words of
a cheerful and inspiring anthem. None-the-less
she triumphs and saves Jewry by her wiles. And Disney or not,
Esther is the one that all of the little
girls want to dress up as for
the rollicking, joyous festival of
Purim.
You
can look it all up.
Anyway,
let Esther speak again to her sisters across time and space.
Purim/International
Women’s Day
14th
day of Adar 5772/March 8, 2012
Queen Esther tossed her
head,
gleaming black hair
tumbling to those lovely shoulders
that had enticed a lecher King.
She laughed.
Her people, the Women
of another age,
leaned toward her
waiting her word.
She cast her blazing
eyes upon them,
laughed again
and spoke at last.
“So many Hamans. Where shall we begin?”
—Patrick
Murfin
No comments:
Post a Comment