Keeping the faith (and culture) during the exile
Escaping furnaces and lions with God and Belteshazzar
Interpreting dreams and prophesying with Daniel
Winning beauty pageants and averting genocide with Esther
T he ancient Israelites got around. Early in the Bible, Abraham traveled the entire Fertile Crescent, from Mesopotamia to the Nile Valley. Then, several generations later, Moses led the Israelites out of Egypt, through the Sinai, and to the edge of their Promised Land. Moses even named his first son Gershom, which means “stranger there,” reflecting “I have been a stranger in a strange land” (Exodus 2:22). However, journeys like these were rare in antiquity. After all, travel agencies were nowhere to be found, and more importantly, strangers were usually enslaved or even killed if they entered a territory not their own. Yet, one of the remarkable results of the ancient Israelites’ migrations is that they discovered firsthand the difficulties of getting around. As a result, they thought differently about strangers, as is evidenced in their laws: “Love the stranger, because you were once strangers in the land of Egypt” (Deuteronomy 10:19).
Despite the difficulties of getting around in the ancient world, the Israelites found themselves once again strangers in a strange land. Only this time they were not in Egypt or the Sinai, but back where it all had begun: Mesopotamia. That’s right, just as God called Abraham to leave Mesopotamia and seek out his Promised Land, so now God was sending Abraham’s descendants back to Mesopotamia, courtesy of the Babylonians. In this chapter you look at their adventures in this strange, yet familiar land, where they struggle to survive, and even thrive, while maintaining their unique identity and their faith in God.
Babylonian kings are about as patient as sugar-eating squirrels, and after repeated rebellions by Judah, the sovereign of Babylon decided to put an end to this vassal kingdom by destroying its capital city of Jerusalem (586 B.C.E.). When he was done, the city and Temple that had been God’s “home” and the focal point of Judah’s political and religious life for 400 years now lay in ruins. But Jerusalem’s destruction merely marks the beginning of Judah’s struggle for its cultural survival. The leading citizens become slaves in Babylon, just as their ancestors did in Egypt. Far from their Promised Land, the exiles face the most serious threat to their survival as a people: assimilation. Virtually all displaced peoples in antiquity eventually assimilated into their new surroundings. This seems to be what happened to the northern kingdom of Israel when the Assyrians deported many of its inhabitants throughout their empire. The Ten Lost Tribes were “lost” precisely because many assimilated into the cultures that surrounded them.
So, how will Judah and its culture survive these perilous times? Books such as Daniel and Esther seek to answer this question. But they raise the bar of expectation for those in exile: Not only can you survive in a foreign land, you can thrive. Individuals such as Daniel and Esther demonstrate that the exiles can remain true to themselves and their cultural heritage, and still rise to the top and make a difference in the world.
Daniel is born in Judah, but at an early age he is carried off into Babylonian exile, where, because of his abilities, he rises to prominence. But Daniel’s high status makes his cultural peculiarities all the more obvious, and he and his three friends — Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego — are threatened with death if they don’t conform. But Daniel and his three buddies never succumb to these pressures, and God repeatedly delivers them. The book of Daniel contains some of the Bible’s most amazing and famous adventures, stories written to offer courage to peoples persecuted for practicing their religion.
Kings expect to be waited upon. And, because good help is hard to find in any day, King Nebuchadnezzar of Babylon orders that many of the Judean youths among the exiles be trained as royal stewards. Such training included education in the language, literature, and culture of Babylon.
Among those enrolled in this “Babylonian University” are Daniel and three of his friends: Hananiah, Mishael, and Azariah. The first item on the agenda is to give these freshmen Babylonian names. Daniel, a Hebrew name meaning “God is my judge” is given the Babylonian name Belteshazzar, which means “Bel protects his life.” Bel is a reference to the Babylonian chief god Marduk. Daniel’s three friends Hananiah (“the LORD is gracious”), Mishael (“Who is like God?”), and Azariah (“the LORD is my help”) are also given Babylonian names: Shadrach (“command of Aku,” a Mesopotamian moon god), Meshach (“Who is like Aku?”), and Abednego (“servant of Nabu,” the Mesopotamian god of learning), respectively. Already the cultural battle has begun, as their names now give recognition to other gods.
The Book of Daniel is set in the sixth century B.C.E., but nearly all scholars believe that it wasn’t completed until about 165 B.C.E. This determination is based on its language and its extremely detailed prophecies of events that occurred during the second century B.C.E. Of course, as a prophet, predicting the future was Daniel’s job, and even if the Book of Daniel wasn’t completed until long after Daniel’s death, this doesn’t diminish the fact that it preserves authentic traditions from Daniel’s life.
Daniel’s and his friends’ educations involve three years of physical and mental conditioning. During this period, they’re expected to partake in Babylonian cuisine. Yet, according to the biblical dietary laws, Babylonian meat and wine are not even close to being ritually pure (kosher in Hebrew; see Chapter 7). Thus, Daniel asks that he and his friends be able to eat only vegetables and drink only water. The problem with this request is that Nebuchadnezzar wants his stewards to be robust, because scrawny, wimp servants would compromise his reputation as a manly king. Still, Daniel’s proposed diet is given a trial run, and, remarkably, after ten days Daniel and his friends look “better in appearance and fatter in flesh” than the others. With this winning diet and God’s help in giving them “understanding and knowledge in all kinds of literature and learning,” Daniel and his pals graduate atop their class, and the king rewards them with important jobs in the royal administration.
All is well in the kingdom until King Nebuchadnezzar has a very disturbing dream. Because dreams were believed to be divine messages, the king seeks to know what this dream means for him and his kingdom. But there’s a little catch: to guarantee that the interpretation he receives is from the gods, and because he can’t remember the dream, Nebuchadnezzar demands that his wise men first tell him what he dreamed before they interpret it. Nebuchadnezzar’s servants fail, saying that only the gods could perform such a difficult feat (precisely Neb’s point). Nebuchadnezzar, unimpressed, orders all the wise men executed. As wise men, Daniel and his friends are among the condemned, but just before their execution, Daniel prays, and God reveals the dream to him, saving his and the other wisemen’s lives.
Nebuchadnezzar, justifiably impressed with Daniel’s wisdom, worships Daniel’s God, promotes Daniel, and sacrifices on his behalf.
Daniel 3 is about Daniel’s three friends, who refuse to worship a huge, 90-foot-tall golden statue that king Nebuchadnezzar has erected. Their refusal takes some guts, because the king’s order that everyone must bow to the statue came with a sizeable threat to those who wouldn’t: they will “immediately be thrown into a fiery furnace” (Daniel 3:6). Despite this threat, Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego refuse, because they bow only to God. The king is furious when he finds out about their defiance, and he asks angrily (and rhetorically), “What god can save you from my hand?” The three amigos have an answer: God will save them, and even if He won’t, “we won’t serve your gods or bow to the golden image you have built” (Daniel 3:18).
Well, this of course infuriates Nebuchadnezzar all the more, and he orders the furnace to be turned up sevenfold. The fire becomes so hot that the guards responsible for throwing the three men into the furnace are killed as they carry out their command. Then, straining to look into the furnace at the suffering of these three rebels, the king asks: “Didn’t we throw three men into the fire?” (Kings are never short of rhetorical questions.) “Then why do I see four men walking about in the flames, untied and uninjured, and the fourth appears like a son of the gods?” At this, the king tells the three men to come out, and they emerge without even a singed eyebrow or the smell of smoke.
Years later, Nebuchadnezzar has another dream and he can’t make heads nor tails of it. In his dream, he sees a large tree that provides food and protection for humans and beasts alike. But then a heavenly being orders that the tree be chopped down, and only the stump remains. The stump is then turned into a wild animal. Understandably, all the king’s wise men are stumped at the stump until Daniel shows up and saves the day. According to Daniel, the tree is the king, who, like the tree, has a vast kingdom that provides for his subjects. But this situation will soon change. God will make the king go mad because of his pride, and he will live in the wild and eat grass like an ox.
A year passes. Then Nebuchadnezzar, while walking on his roof, reflects on his many accomplishments and says, “Isn’t Babylon great, a royal residence that I have built by my power and for the glory of my majesty?” Uh oh. There were a few too many Is and mys in that statement. In a scene reminiscent of Beauty and the Beast, God strikes the king with madness, driving him into the wild where he eats grass, grows long hair and nails, and listens over and over again to The Beatles’ White Album (okay, we made up that last part). The spell is finally broken when a young woman named Belle falls in love . . . Actually, after seven years of insanity, Nebuchadnezzar repents of his pride and acknowledges God as the ultimate sovereign, and then regains his sanity.
With dad away in the Arabian desert, the king-in-residence, Belshazzar, decides to throw a party. All is fine until he decides to boast about Babylon’s might by drinking wine from the gold and silver cups looted from the Jerusalem Temple. Bad idea. Those vessels were for one purpose only (God’s worship) and for one place only (the Temple in Jerusalem). Suddenly a hand appears out of nowhere and writes mysterious words on the wall. The king, realizing this can’t be good, offers a reward to anyone who can read it.
Although the penmanship was undoubtedly flawless, no one can make out the message until the queen remembers some guy named Daniel who did pretty well at things like this. Daniel is summoned and immediately recognizes the penmanship as God’s, and then reads the writing on the wall: mene, mene, tekel, uparsin. These are Aramaic words deriving from metrology, and Daniel gives the following interpretation:
Mene
means “to count.” Daniel says, “God has numbered the days of your kingdom and is bringing it to an end.”
Tekel
means “to measure.” Daniel states, “You’ve been weighed (on the moral scales) and have been found wanting.”
uParsin:
The u is Aramaic for “and,” and parsin means “to divide.” Daniel informs Belshazzar, “Your kingdom is divided and will be given to the Medes and Persians.”
The last line is particularly effective, because the words for “to divide” and “Persians” sound alike in Aramaic. Unfortunately, the king had little time to appreciate God’s wordplay, because that night the Persians took over Babylon and killed Belshazzar, marking the transition from the Babylonian to Persian periods in ancient Near Eastern history. The year was 539 B.C.E., and soon Cyrus the Great, the king of Persia, would allow the exiled Jews and other groups to return to their ancestral homeland. However, most exiles, including Daniel and Esther, chose to remain in their new homes.
With Persia in and Babylon out, Daniel’s new employer, King Darius, immediately recognizes his gifts and appoints him to one of the highest posts in the Persian administration. But the other administrators are jealous and set out to ruin Daniel. Unfortunately for them, Daniel has more moral resolve than Jimmy Stewart in Mr. Smith Goes to Washington. Realizing that the only way to bring a good man down is by exploiting his goodness, they decide to frame Daniel for his religious convictions. They convince the king to order an edict that no one can beseech any other god or human other than the king for a month. If they do, they’ll be fed to the lions.
Daniel, fully aware of the edict, continues his practice of praying three times a day at his window (so he could face Jerusalem). Lingering in the shadows below are the officials, who report Daniel’s behavior to King Darius and have him arrested. The king is distraught to learn that his friend Daniel is guilty, but because Persian kings could not change an edict (this would convey uncertainty to his subjects), he must comply.
Thus, Daniel is thrown into the lions’ den, which is sealed to ensure no one tries to rescue Daniel. That night, the king is so upset that he can’t sleep or eat. Fortunately for Daniel, the lions couldn’t eat either, because an angel appeared and “shut their mouths.” At daybreak, the king rushes back to the pit and finds Daniel miraculously unharmed. Darius then orders that those who led him to make this silly law, along with their families, be thrown to the lions. They are, and they are eaten “even before they hit the floor.”
The following sections cover two of Daniel’s most famous visions.
Daniel has a dream where he witnesses four remarkable beasts: a winged lion, a bear, a four-headed winged leopard, and a “terrifying beast” with ten horns. Then, among the ten horns appears a “little horn,” which cuts off some of the other horns. After this, Daniel sees God, here called “the Ancient of Days,” on His throne in heaven. Ushered before God is “one like a son of man,” who is given authority to establish an everlasting kingdom, which is soon to come.
So what does this vision mean? An angel tells Daniel that the four beasts symbolize empires that are to come. Although they remain unnamed, most scholars link the lion to Babylon, the bear to a joint Median-Persian empire, and the winged-leopard with four heads to Alexander the Great and his four generals (among whom Alexander’s kingdom is divided after his death), and the “terrifying beast” to the Greek rulers of Mesopotamia, called the Seleucids after Alexander’s general, Seleucus. (Some scholars, however, identify this last beast with a power yet to come, such as Rome.) Nearly all scholars agree that the “little horn” that appears on the beasts head is the Seleucid king, Antiochus Epiphanes, who, as Daniel describes, desecrated the Temple in Jerusalem and waged war with the Jews (see Chapter 16). The identity of one “like a son of man” is not specified. However, in later Jewish literature, the title “Son of Man” came to refer to the promised Messiah, who would deliver the Jews from their enemies and establish an eternal kingdom of righteousness and justice. In the Christian New Testament, the title “Son of Man” is applied to Jesus (see Chapter 19), who is also called the Messiah. Moreover, Jesus predicts another desecration of the Temple when describing the events of the end times (see Matthew 24:15).
On the banks of the Tigris River, Daniel has a vision concerning the “end of days.” The messenger (who seems to be the angel Gabriel of Daniel 8–9) tells Daniel that he would have arrived earlier, but there is a heavenly battle currently being waged between angels, with Michael representing the Jews and another heavenly patron representing Persia. Daniel’s vision foretells successive kings and empires, and a war between the north (representing the Greek kingdom of the Seleucids in Mesopotamia) and the south (the Greek kingdom of the Ptolemies in Egypt). Finally the Seleucid king, Antiochus Epiphanes, will arise, persecute the Jews and profane the Jerusalem Temple, and be killed after campaigning south. Not long after these events God’s kingdom will arrive, and, in the Hebrew Bible’s most explicit reference to heaven and hell, Daniel writes: “Those who sleep in the dust of the ground will awake, some to eternal life, and some to eternal contempt” (Daniel 12:2).
The Book of Daniel ends with a promise to Daniel that the visions he has seen will come to pass, and that he will be among those who awake to eternal life.
Like the Book of Daniel, Esther records the difficulties of life in exile. But whereas Daniel is set in sixth century B.C.E. Babylon, Esther tells of events in the fifth century B.C.E. Persian capital city of Susa. The Book of Esther is a marvelous work of literature, remarkable for its use of irony and plot twists.
The Book of Esther opens with a stag party thrown by the Persian king, Ahasuerus, usually identified with Xerxes I (486–465 B.C.E.). (Hebrew Ahasuerus is a transliteration of Persian khshayarshan, while Xerxes is the Greek form.) The king demands that his wife, Vashti, come out to the party “wearing the royal crown” so he can show her off to his guests. Vashti refuses, which terrifies the men. As one official puts it, “When the women of Persian and Median nobility hear of the queen’s actions, they’ll do the same thing. Then there will be no end to disrespect and discord!” (Esther 1:18). (Yes, the author of Esther was laughing too.)
With a woman’s liberation movement on the horizon, the king deposes his wife and begins a search for a replacement. The king decides to hold a beauty pageant, only it is an ancient beauty pageant, where the rules are a little more risqué. Contestants are given one year of beauty treatments, and then for the “contest” they spend the night with the king in his chambers. That’s right. No talent show, no “I’d end war and world hunger” speeches, just the evening wear competition. One contestant is Esther, a nice Jewish girl who is being raised by her cousin Mordecai. Their names, in fact, show the extent to which they have assimilated — Mordecai is derived from the Babylonian chief deity Marduk, and Esther from the fertility goddess Ishtar. (Esther also has a Hebrew name: Hadassah.) Esther wins the contest and becomes the queen of the Persian Empire, all the while keeping her Jewish heritage secret.
A short time after Esther wins the sleepover beauty pageant, Mordecai learns of a plot to assassinate the king and informs him. The king averts death and records in the daily chronicles that Mordecai the Jew saved the monarch. But Mordecai soon runs into trouble when he refuses to bow to the king’s highest official, named Haman, the story’s villain. For Mordecai’s insolence, Haman vows to destroy all the Jews and brings the matter before the king. However, rather than specifying the Jews, he refers to them as a “certain people.” Xerxes signs Haman’s edict and gives him the funds to carry out his plan.
When Mordecai learns of the edict, he relays the disturbing news to Esther, asking her to intercede for her people before the king. She refuses, saying that the king hasn’t summoned her and that anyone entering his presence uninvited is put to death. In response, Mordecai sends Esther this message:
Do you think that just because you are in the royal palace that you alone of all the Jews will escape? If you remain silent at this time, then deliverance for the Jews will come from another place, and you and your father’s family will perish. But who knows? Perhaps you have achieved your royal status for such a time as this?
—Esther 4:12–14
Esther replies, “I will go to the king, even though it is against the law. And if I die, then I die” (Esther 4:16). Esther does go to the king, who welcomes her, even offering her whatever she wants. Instead of laying all her cards on the table, she asks if the king and Haman would join her for dinner. He agrees. At dinner, Ahasuerus offers Esther anything she desires, and she coolly asks for another dinner with the same guests the following day. Haman, assuming this means a promotion is imminent, is thrilled. As he boasts with friends and family that night, he admits that the only thing robbing him of complete joy is that darn Mordecai, who still refuses to bow to him. His friends convince Haman to find an outlet for his dissatisfaction by having gallows built in front of his house so he can watch Mordecai hang on the day the edict takes effect.
Meanwhile, in the palace, the king has insomnia and asks that the daily records be read to him (that would put anyone to sleep). He discovers that Mordecai was never rewarded for saving his life. When Haman shows up the next morning, King Ahasuerus asks what he would recommend as a reward for one the king wants to honor. Haman, believing it is him, advises the king to give that man fancy clothes and jewelry and have him ride on the king’s horse through the city while a high official goes before him declaring: “This is what is done for the person whom the king wants to honor.” To his horror, Haman learns that the honoree is not him but Mordecai! Making matters worse, the king tells Haman to lead Mordecai through the streets shouting his suggested line. Haman is livid but must comply.
The Book of Esther is a great example of narrative literature. But for all its literary merits and popularity, Esther almost didn’t make it into the Bible because of controversy surrounding God’s diminished role in the story. In fact, there is not one reference to God. Also, surprising is that religious customs such as prayer are absent. As an indication of its shaky status, fragments from every book in the Hebrew Bible except Esther have been discovered among the Dead Sea Scrolls (see Chapter 1). In the end, however, the book was included in both the Jewish and Christian Bibles as an example of how God, even when seemingly absent or silent, orchestrates events so that good wins out in the end.
That night, at the second dinner party, Ahasuerus asks again for the chance to fulfill the queen’s desire. Esther, to everyone’s surprise, begs for the king to preserve her life and the life of her people. The king asks who would dare threaten her. Esther replies, “This vile Haman.” The king becomes furious and leaves the room. In desperation, Haman falls on the couch beside Esther, pleading for his life. When the king returns and sees Haman on the couch next to his wife, he interprets this as his coming on to his wife — now Haman’s doubly dead! The king only bemoans the fact that he doesn’t have any gallows ready to hang him. One of the king’s officials speaks up, saying he saw newly built gallows in front of Haman’s house that would work perfectly!
However, the edict that the king ordered to kill the Jews can’t be revoked. Therefore the king allows Mordecai to issue a new edict, allowing the Jews to defend themselves and encouraging others to support them. The Jews outside of the city of Susa win victory after the first day of battle, and one day later, even within Susa the victory is complete. The book ends encouraging all Jews to observe this day as a holiday, which is given the name Purim after the Hebrew word for lots (ancient dice) used by Haman to determine the day he would kill the Jews (for more on Purim see Chapter 27).