Don’t miss Part 2 in our three-part “Her Story” series. This week we look at Esther and identity politics, along with how brilliantly scripture blurs the lines between fact and fiction to lead us to important truths. We meet each Thursday evening at 7:30pm CST in the parlor of Pilgrim Congregational Church, 460 Lake Street, Oak Park. If you’re able to be with us in person, join us online via FB Live.

Identity, Politics, and Ancient Fake News

Like its heroine, the Book of Esther defies categorization. It’s presented as the backstory for Purim, a spring holiday that is easily the wildest party on the Jewish calendar. The Book (or “Scroll”) of Esther gets read twice: at night, as the revelry begins, and the next morning, when the previous evening’s folderol may have left a few folks feeling rough around the edges. The story of how Esther saves her people comes to life in children’s plays and costumes. There’s a lot of food and special treats for the kids and adults are encouraged to drink excessively.

Esther’s story is all about liberation. But is it true?

That’s been a perennial problem for scholars. The writer gets some details right. For instance, he (or possibly she) knows a lot about Persian palace protocol. This allows historians to date Esther about 200 years before the Common Era, making it one of the latest books in the Hebrew Bible. (The Book of Daniel, which has a lot in common with Esther, is the last.) But, also like Daniel, there are a lot of questions about this story. Neither the characters nor its events are known to history. Those who insist the Bible is factually “true” try to bend Esther to fit historical counterparts. But the book resists mightily.

The rabbis would ask: Does veracity matter? And they would reply (and have replied), “Not one bit.” The ancients were brilliant advocates of stories whose ability to explain origins, ethics, and faith transcended human events. They saw something bigger in these tales than historical record.

They were also well aware—and wisely wary—of fake news. Rewriting history was every ruler’s prerogative and I mean that literally; previous records often were replaced with newer ones that erased or exaggerated the flaws of past monarchs while valorizing current ones. We see this happen with King David, who is a complex, not always admirable character in Samuel and Kings, while the David of Chronicles (written much later) is simplistically pictured as the greatest king of all time.

Instead of settling for malleable history, Esther tells a story that surpasses facts. At its center is an extraordinary woman who understands the politics of identity and human susceptibility to beauty. Esther has courage; but her bravery is amplified by her uncanny sense of timing and recognition of how the world works. She also knows how men work and, man oh man, does she work them!

Esther raises a lot of important questions for 21^st-century Christian readers: questions about gender and identity politics, history and fiction, biblical interpretation and the problems of hanging one’s faith on scriptural literalism. There’s a lot to learn from Esther and we’ll dig into that this coming Thursday at our weekly Bible study. Do your very best to join us!

Don’t miss Part 2 in our three-part “Her Story” series. This week we look at Esther and identity politics, along with how brilliantly scripture blurs the lines between fact and fiction to lead us to important truths. We meet each Thursday evening at 7:30pm CST in the parlor of Pilgrim Congregational Church, 460 Lake Street, Oak Park. If you’re able to be with us in person, join us online via FB Live.

Grace in the Time of Gratitude

Last summer is now a fading memory; fall has taken hold. The reversion to Standard Time means darkness comes sooner than we’d prefer. Weather forecasts use words like “overcast” and “wind chill” and “cold front.” For those who love daylight and warmth, an unwelcome misery sets in. Falling leaves, blustery mornings, chilly evenings and longer nights suggest a winding down and resignation, not a time of renewal and hope. It’s an odd time of year to be called to thankfulness, particularly since “harvest” and “bounty” are now high-concept notions with plenty of fresh produce available year-‘round.

In 2 Corinthians 4, St. Paul reminds us that natural vulnerabilities and decay don’t define us. The great apostle says we hold our treasures in “clay pots” (v7) and, yes, he admits they’re subject to unavoidable changes and weaknesses. But seasonal variances don’t determine final outcomes. They’re merely circumstances, not conclusions.

So Paul assures his Corinthian readers (and us):  “We are experiencing all kinds of trouble, but we aren’t crushed. We are confused, but we aren’t depressed. We are harassed, but we aren’t abandoned. We are knocked down, but we aren’t knocked out” (v8-9). Clearly he’s referring to situations more stressful and serious than a case of mid-autumn blues. Yet the changing of seasons opens an opportunity for us to practice some of what Paul is talking about.

The evidence of death that grows more dramatic in the late autumn and winter can be revitalizing if we permit it to renew our awareness of vitality we possess. Gray skies that hang overhead and brittle leaves that crunch underfoot can be transformed into powerful reminders of new life and sustenance. The clouds will release snow and rain to replenish the earth; leaves will disintegrate and feed next spring and summer. It’s not what we see that makes the difference, Paul says; it’s what we can’t see, yet somehow know is happening.

That’s how grace works. It eases its way into seemingly hopeless situations and produces fresh beginnings and revived faith. It renews and restores and rectifies. It takes what appears to be turning to dust and disproves the notion that death is the end. That’s why Paul says, “We don’t focus on the things that can be seen but on the things that can’t be seen” (v18).

Perhaps late autumn is the right time for Thanksgiving after all. It compels us to look beyond what we can see and envision what God is doing behind the scenes, under the ground, deep in the wells of our own spirits. Grace is at work in us even when we can’t detect it. That’s what sustains us through frosty mornings and windswept afternoons, through dark nights and overcast days.

Join us this Sunday as Gather unites in a worship experience that explores how grace and gratitude are connected. You will leave with a richer sense of thankfulness and an assurance that the grayest days and coldest nights are filled with grace. Worship begins at 5pm CST in the parlor of Pilgrim Congregational Church, 460 Lake Street, Oak Park. If you’re unable to be with us in person (and you really should try to make it), you can find us online via Facebook Live.