The queen you thought you knew

IN looking at a Biblical text, David Fohrman asks questions that no one else ever asked, and because of that he gives fresh and arresting answers.

Fohrman has already distinguished himself with his first book, The Beast That Crouches at the Door, an original look at the narratives of Adam and Eve, and Cain and Abel. Now he turns his attention to the Scroll of Esther, the “Megillah,” just in time for Purim — oh, and one of the first questions he asks is, why call it Purim?


Purim stems from the Hebrew word pur, which means lot, and refers to the lots cast by Haman to determine the date he would kill all the Jews of Persia. Why remember a book of biblical salvation by the genocidal terminology of the Hitler of the day?

Fohrman writes:

“Imagine it was 1948 and Israel had just proclaimed its statehood and managed to ward off several invading Arab armies. The question comes up: People will want to celebrate this moment year after year; what should we name the day? Someone in the back of the room raises his hand and says:

“‘Let’s call it: Tokarev Day.’

“‘Why Tokarev Day,’ everyone asks.

“‘Well,’ he continues, ‘when the Arabs tried to kill us all, their weapon of choice was Russian made self-loading Tokarev rifles. Thank G-d we were saved. So let’s call it Tokarev Day!’

“And then everyone applauds and decides that this is a wonderful name for the new holiday.

“That’s roughly what seems to have taken place concerning Purim. Why name the day after the instrument of choice used by our enemy? It’s not his holiday, it’s ours!”

 

IN The Queen You Thought You Knew (HFBS and OU Press), Fohrman is skilled at linking the micro to the macro. He takes a very close look at the biblical text, picking up on unnoticed sequences, scrutinizing hitherto unseen grammatical and syntactical oddities.

But he does not produce a book of picky points and scholarly obscurities. He builds on small, careful questions to produce a book of large panoramas. From small puzzles he extracts links to large stretches of biblical history. The Queen You Thought You Knew is a book of uncommon range and insight.

It is also a very fun book. Fohrman’s style is direct and engaging (per Tokarev Day). Indeed, his style conveys the feeling of inevitability. The reader finds himself saying, I just knew he was going to say that. I knew where he was going with this. To read Fohrman is akin to listening to a powerful symphony with that driving sense of inevitability.

Of course, Fohrman’s reader doesn’t really have a clue where Fohrman is going, he just thinks he does. That’s part of author Fohrman’s genius; he convinces you, the reader, that the two of you are co-authors. Fohrman’s subtext is a conspirational link between author and reader. For that reason the book is hard to put down — how can you put down your own book?

Who said Bible study couldn’t be fun?

 

HERE’S just a small sampling of questions (besides the curious name of the holiday) that Fohrman raises:

1. After Haman is hung and his sons are killed — after the enemy is defeated and dispatched — why does the Megillah drag on another three chapters? Aren’t they anti-climactic?

2. After Haman decreed his genocidal plan, Esther seems to hesitate before approaching her husband, Ahasuerus, to change his mind. Esther’s Uncle Mordechai tells niece Esther that if she will not seek relief from the King, “salvation will come from another source.”

Well, if the Jews can be rescued from some other source, why does Mordechai urge Esther to see the King? If she’s not really needed — because salvation is available elsewhere — why the pressure on Esther?

3. When Esther finally seeks and secures an audience with the King, she does not seem to carry out its purpose. Does she plead for her people’s safety against the genocidal designs of Haman? No, she invites the King and Haman to . . . a party!

Then, when they arrive at the party, does she plead her case? Again, no. She invites them to another party.

What is going on here?

4. Speaking of parties, the Megillah opens with a big one, 180 days long. King Ahasuerus, the orgy’s host, seems like a crass, materialistic fool, a self-centered tool of his own hedonism and meaninglessness. Was there, however, a method to Ahasuerus’ madness, a critical strategy at work here?

 

ANSWERING these and many other questions, Fohrman shines a penetrating light on many biblical narratives. He illuminates not only the ethical triumphs of Mordechai and Esther — at the end of Biblical history — but of Joseph and his brothers, at the dawn of Biblical history.

Rest assured, Fohrman is not a small-minded exegete, building on some tiny twist in the biblical text, which might not even be there, to construct an artificial lesson as solid as stilts. By the time Fohrman arrives at the Joseph story, his spadework has been so compelling (and engaging) that you find yourself saying: Of course; why didn’t I think of that myself?

P.S. Although I do not want to give away Fohrman’s findings, I will drop two hints:

Mordechai is a descendant of Benjamin, Joseph’s younger brother. How does Mordechai complete Benjamin?

The name of the holiday, Purim, is, argues Fohrman, based not so much on what Haman did, as on what Esther did. For the key to that, check out Esther 9:25-26 and Numbers 30:3. Check out these verses — and their relationship will come up a blank. They seem utterly unrelated. Then read Fohrman; see these verses through his penetrating exegetical lens. You’ll be saying: Why, of course!