Who Wants to Marry the King of Persia?
On Purim, we remember an earlier version of the recent television special. Only this time, the ending is quite different
BY: Andrew Silow-Carroll
A bevy of beautiful single women are paraded before a rich guy who controls a fortune in real estate. After an elaborate winnowing process, the multimillionaire selects the one he likes best and makes her his wife. The bride seems happy with the deal, though one of the partners in this odd marriage harbors a secret past. Those who hear the story will vigorously debate the beauty pageant approach to matrimony.
Sound familiar? It certainly does to Jews preparing to celebrate the holiday of Purim (March 21) by reading the Book of Esther. Two thousand years before "Who Wants to Marry a Multimillionaire?" was a twinkling dollar sign in the eyes of Fox television executives, the Jewish canon was expanded to include the story of Ahasuerus, king of Persia and Media, and Esther, a Jewish maiden. Chosen by Ahasuerus as his queen, Esther will eventually use her high office to foil a plot by the king's evil minister, Haman, to wipe out the kingdom's Jews.
The holiday commemorating this story of Jewish deliverance is a day of carnival, masquerade, even rabbinically sanctioned drunkenness. Esther and her uncle/guardian Mordecai are remembered as heroes, and Haman as an enemy so vile that every mention of his name is drowned out in a cacophony of noisemakers and catcalls.
But all the revelry can't disguise the controversial plot element at the story's heart, any more than Fox's public relations department could spin away the ickiness of "Multimillionaire." Esther's physical charms, as opposed to any other qualities, are emphasized again and again. She is not merely paraded before the king and asked a few "If you were a tree." questions. She and the other contestants are put through a yearlong spa treatment of ointments and cosmetics, and then have to spend the night with Ahasuerus (the losers are relegated to lesser spots in his harem). Early Jewish commentators, not to mention generations of Jewish mothers, had to explain why a Jewish heroine was competing for the hand of a gentile.
Debates among modern feminist commentators on the Esther story sound like the ones over "Multimillionaire": Should Esther have allowed herself to become a sex object? Should marriage be reduced to a casting call? And by what right do men--the king's courtiers in suggesting the pageant, Mordecai in nominating Esther, Ahasuerus in expanding his harem--manipulate young women for their own gain and delectation?