Haman's End (Est. 7:9-10)

Then Harbona, one of the king's personal servants, said, "Your Majesty, Haman built a tower seventy-five feet high beside his house, so he could hang Mordecai on it. And Mordecai is the very one who spoke up and saved your life." "Hang Haman from his own tower!" the king commanded. Right away, Haman was hanged on the tower he had built to hang Mordecai, and the king calmed down.
(Esther 7:9-10, CEV)

And so Haman’s role in our story ends.

His pride, his arrogance, and his hatred have become his downfall … literally. And in the ultimate irony, Haman is hanged on the very tower he’d built to take Mordecai’s life.

So what can we learn from the tragedy of Haman?

Of course, it’s easy for us to look at Haman and comment on what he could have done differently, but what’s important is how we should behave. We have the words of Jesus Himself. We have Paul’s God-inspired letters.

We know that God desires our humility (Ps. 147:6; Prov. 3:34)). We know we should “esteem others better than ourselves” (Phil. 2:3). And when we do, we look out for their interests as well as our own. We certainly do not want to destroy them.

And the other lesson is exactly what our Lord Jesus taught: Love your neighbor (Mark 12:30) and love your enemy (Matt. 5:44). Imagine how Haman’s story would have played out had he known that lesson. Or had he even understood God’s commandment—“You shall not kill”—perhaps he would have made another choice.

But Haman did make a choice to let his pride and hatred consume him. And he ends up losing his very life.

Tragedy in the Making (Est. 3:12-13)

On the thirteenth day of Nisan, Haman called in the king's secretaries and ordered them to write letters in every language used in the kingdom. The letters were written in the name of the king and sealed by using the king's own ring. At once they were sent to the king's highest officials, the governors of each province, and the leaders of the different nations in the kingdom of Xerxes. The letters were taken by messengers to every part of the kingdom, and this is what was said in the letters: On the thirteenth day of Adar, the twelfth month, all Jewish men, women, and children are to be killed. And their property is to be taken.
(Esther 3:12-13, CEV)

I read these words, and I’m sickened. Really. I feel sick to my stomach. One man’s hatred will lead to the total annihilation of an entire race of people living in Persia.

Read that last sentence again: “On the thirteenth day of Adar, the twelfth month, all Jewish men, women, and children are to be killed. And their property is to be taken.”

I cannot in any way imagine what kind of mind it takes to even think about such a thing. And then to actually put this plan in motion?

But we can’t let King Xerxes off. He doesn’t even question a total destruction of a people. In his laziness or disregard or ignorance—I’m not sure which—he’s going to allow this. He’s the one, after all, who allows the letters to be written in his name and sealed with his ring.

Amazing—and not in a good way.

It’s tragic how hatred and fear of those different than we are can lead to such utter disdain for human life. Life that is absolutely precious in the eyes of our Father. Yet, Haman’s act wasn’t the first of its kind, nor will it—sad to say—likely be the last.

So what are we to do? In our own little circle of influence, we can show Christ’s love. We can show kindness to those who may not be of our race or from our culture. And we can pray for those who are still being repressed or mistreated—just because they’re different.