This post also appears as the cover article in The View, the parish newsletter for St. John's in Decatur, Alabama. To read the rest of the newsletter and learn more about St. John's, please click here.
Right now in the Daily Office, the Old Testament lesson is from the Book of Esther. Although we read more or less a chapter each day, I feel a great temptation to read ahead and finish the story before the lectionary gets to the end. The story of Esther is a compelling tale of jealousy, irony, and justice. Each chapter ends with a major plot point hanging in the balance, and, like a child to whom a parent reads at bedtime, the reader wants to peek ahead and see what will come next. It does not matter that I have read the book before and know what is coming. I still cannot wait to see what will happen on the next page.
I suppose that my impatience should not surprise me. In the
Jewish tradition, the entire Book of Esther is read aloud each year on the day
of Purim, a spring festival that commemorates the deliverance of the Jewish
people from the plot of wicked Haman. As recounted in the story, Haman sought
to have all the children of Abraham exterminated, but God intervened through
Esther, a Jewish woman who had become a wife and queen of the hapless King
Ahasuerus and whose bravery and cunning became the instruments of God’s
salvation. Like any good story, it is worth reading again and again even though
the outcome is already well known.
As the people of God, we have been telling the same story
over and over for more generations than we can count. Abraham rescued Lot and
his family from certain destruction. Joseph enabled his brothers to survive a
famine in Egypt. Moses led God’s people from slavery into freedom. Joshua led
God’s people from the wilderness into a new homeland. David reminded his people
to trust in God’s victory. Daniel remained faithful until God delivered his
people from exile. Judah Maccabee galvanized a rebellion that purged God’s land
from Seleucid oppression. Whenever it seems that the light God has given to his
people will be extinguished, God intervenes and enables the story of salvation
to be told yet again.
We are a part of God’s great story of deliverance. At the
Easter Vigil, after the fire has been kindled and the Paschal candle has been
lit, the presider says to the congregation, “Let us hear the record of God’s
saving deeds in history, how he saved his people in ages past; and let us pray
that our God will bring each of us to the fullness of redemption.” As the various
chapters from the story of salvation are read, we are asked to consider how our
collective story, the outcome of which is already known, will continue to
unfold in our lives. We know that the death and resurrection of Jesus is God’s
guarantee that nothing can interfere with his plan to save us from all that
threatens us—even death itself—but, still, we tell that same story again and
again because it is a story we need to hear.
As a people of faith, we pray repeatedly for deliverance,
and we hope that God’s salvation will be made manifest in our lives. In times
of trouble, we look for signs that God’s promise is real. Sometimes they are
easy to see—a near-miss on the interstate, a clear PET scan, an improbable
reconciliation—but other times God’s saving work is hidden from us—rising
floodwaters, a crushing betrayal, a devastating knock at the door. In those
moments, we need to tell and retell the story of salvation more than ever
because, even though the outcome of God’s story is certain, the path that we
will take to get there is not. We need remembrances of hope and trust and faith
to sustain us when those are the very things that we cannot grasp. Even the
Book of Esther, which leaves no doubt that God’s is acting to save his people,
never mentions God by name. Instead, the reader is invited to search for God’s
hand behind it all—both in the narrative of Esther and in the lives of those
who read it.
What chapter in the
story of salvation resonates with you? Is it Noah and the flood? Is it Isaac
and Abraham? Is it the parting of the Red Sea or the Valley of Dry Bones? Is it
another story for scripture, or is it a story from your own life? Remember that,
when it comes to salvation, your story is not your own. Salvation history is a
history for the whole world—even all of creation. Remember also, however, that
your own life’s narrative is a thread that is being woven into God’s tapestry
of salvation and that the fabric’s image is still taking shape ahead of us. We
may not be able to see the whole picture take place, but we know what it will
look like when everything is finished. We know how this story ends, but we tell
it anyway.
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