Welcome to the alliteratively and delightfully entitled Qontroversial Questions on the Parashah Megillah (it’s still pronounced “Controversial” – I just think I’m being clever). Subscribe to continue to receive these and please share with those you think would be interested.
I. The Classic Explanation
In a Biblical book that’s not exactly known for its subtlety, Haman’s hatred for Jews in Megillat Esther is downright cartoonish – and so it’s no surprise that we see him as the archetypal antisemite in Tanakh.
But why? Why does Haman hate Jews so much? There is a well-known answer here: it’s all in his name.
Note how the megillah introduces us to him (and refers to him a further four times): Haman ha-Agagi (Est. 3:1) – which can mean “Haman from the people of Agag.”
And this is something we always read as a transparent reference to King Agag of Amalek, whom King Saul spared from death despite being commanded to wipe out the entirety of Amalek (I Sam. 15).
Amalek, as the Torah tells us, are a nation who – for reasons unknown to us – were determined to exterminate us, leading to a perpetual battle between the Jewish people and Amalek in which neither can live while the other survives (Ex. 17:8–16; Deut. 25:16–19).
And while King Saul was supposed to carry out God’s command to wipe out the entirety of Amalek, his sparing of Agag led to the rebirth of Amalek1 – including his Jew-hating descendent, Haman ha-Agagi: Haman the descendent of Agag.
And this is a powerful understanding of Haman and his motivations – and it’s the reason we choose to not only fulfil our once-yearly obligation to hear Zakhor, the command to wipe out Amalek, the Shabbat before Purim but also why the Torah-reading for Purim is Amalek’s attack.
And it’s clear that the megillah wants us to make the connection between Amalek, Agag, and Haman because it earlier stresses that Mordechai’s lineage can be traced back to King Saul. And just in case you thought Megillat Esther was subtle despite how I opened, compare the introductions of Saul’s father in I Samuel to Mordechai in Esther:
There was a man of Benjamin whose name was Kish son of Abiel son of Zeror son of Becorath son of Aphiah, a Benjaminite, a man of substance. (I Sam. 9:1).
In the fortress Shushan lived a Jew by the name of Mordecai, son of Jair son of Shimei son of Kish, a Benjaminite. (Est. 2:5)
Not only do we get similar levels of ancestry described but both are defined as from the tribe of Binyamin. And both Saul’s father and Mordechai’s great-grandfather are called Kish. And just in case this weren’t enough, Mordechai’s grandfather is called Shimi – which is the same name of another relative of King Saul from the tribe of Binyamin, Shimi ben Gera (II Sam. 16).2
And part of what the megillah is trying to draw attention to here, is the fact that Haman vs. Mordechai should be read and understood as a replay of Agag vs. Saul – in which Mordechai amends for the errors of his ancestor, Saul, by killing the descendent of Agag, Haman.
Yet, for all the significance of this – for all that the megillah wants us to read Agag vs. Saul into Haman vs. Mordechai, it’s still a midrashic layer of understanding. As Rabbi Hayyim Angel noted many years ago (and since I first read it, I can never not think about it), “Had the megillah wanted to associate Haman with Amalek, it could have dubbed him ‘the Amalekite’ explicitly.” Instead, Haman ha-Agagi might simply be the name of the people from whom he’s descended. Indeed the Septuagint translates “Agagite” as Βουγαῖον, “a Bugaean,” whatever that means.
But if this is true, then it means that Haman’s hatred for the Jews can’t be simply explained by his Amalekite ancestry. Something else must explain it.
And here I’d suggest that there’s another answer: and it has everything to do with his name.
II. An Alternative Explanation
Names are clearly a big deal in Megillat Esther. Not only do we get a lot of random ones listed – such as the names of all of Aḥashverosh’s advisors, the names of the various bureaucrats who work various jobs – but we get a lot of detail about many main characters, too. So, we’re told that Esther has a second name, Hadassah, for example (Est. 2:7).
And this makes Haman’s name noteworthy, too. Because we’re not just told that his name is Haman – we’re also told that his father was Hammedata and that he’s an Agagi. And these three things are key.
Because a lot of questions have been asked about the origins of Haman’s name – and while there’s much disagreement, many answers seem to orbit the idea that neither “Haman” nor “Hammedata” are Persian names.
And if we combine this fact with Haman being described specifically as an Agagite – in other words, very much not a Persian – a certain profile starts to develop: Haman is not Persian, he’s someone from one of the other nations “from Hodu to Kush” (Est. 1:1) that have found their way to Shushan.
In other words, Haman is bizarro-Mordechai. Both are highlighted as not Persian: Mordechai the Jew and Haman the Agagite.
And reading the pivotal scene which leads Haman to hate Mordechai with this in mind, a different understanding of Haman’s hatred develops. Because the verses describe how all the people bow down to Haman except Mordechai (Est. 3:2) – and while it’s unclear why Mordechai refuses to do this, there’s some principled Jewish reason, as seen by the fact that the megillah stresses that Mordechai refuses to bow because he’s a Jew (Est. 3:4).
But a deeper look at this verse is key. Because it tells us that the other people who work at the palace, after asking Mordechai why he refuses to bow, go to Haman to explain to him why Mordechai won’t bow, “because he was a Jew.”
In other words, the other people all think that this is a good excuse; it’s only Haman who doesn’t.
But why?
And what we must appreciate here is that Persia was, by and large, a “tolerant” society for its time. It’s why the megillah repeatedly stresses that any royal message is translated into every nation’s own language and script (see, for example, Est. 1:22). And Mordechai’s Jewishness, after all, is not a barrier to his ability to work for Aḥashverosh (something we’ll discuss next week).
And even though Mordechai tells Esther not to reveal her religion – because it’s clearly not completely sunny in Shushan – that Aḥashverosh is absolutely nonplussed to learn that he’s married to a Jew further reinforces how much Persian society just accepted people from all of the nations under its control.
And this was something Ḥazal were also sensitive to – which is why they criticize the Jewish people for going to Aḥashverosh’s party. But their criticism also reveals the simple fact that when the megillah says that everyone was invited (Est. 1:5), that included the Jews. (And for what it’s worth, plenty of extrabiblical evidence corroborates this “tolerance” within Persian society.)
But this is exactly the context that leads Haman to hate the Jews. Because it’s specifically in “tolerant” societies that a certain specific intolerance can develop: other people who have assimilated – who have attempted to blend in with wider society – have the greatest opposition to those who don’t blend in as much.
Which brings us back to Haman’s name: he’s as much a non-Persian as Mordechai. He has a non-Persian name, his father had a non-Persian name, and he’s known specifically as a non-Persian – an Agagite. And so when he sees Mordechai openly being a Jew, refusing to follow a law that compromises his religious beliefs, it drives him into a rage. That’s why he believes (in contrast to other Persians) that the Jews are “a certain people, scattered and dispersed among the other peoples in all the provinces of your realm, whose laws are different from those of any other people and who do not obey the king’s laws; and it is not in Your Majesty’s interest to tolerate them” (Est. 3:8).
No Persian would think that – only someone who is so consumed by their own identity crises in Persia – someone who is desperately seeking to no longer be known as an Agagite would be bothered by this.
III. Haman’s Inner Turmoil
And Haman’s inner turmoil is on full display in the megillah. It delights in telling us just how obsessed he is with telling his family and friends about how great he is, how beloved he is by the King and Queen:
He sent for his friends and his wife Zeresh, and Haman told them about his great wealth and his many sons, and all about how the king had promoted him and advanced him above the officials and the king’s courtiers. “What is more,” said Haman, “Queen Esther gave a feast, and besides the king she did not have anyone but me. And tomorrow too I am invited by her along with the king. (Est. 5:10–12)
In other words, he’s obsessed with showing them just how Persian he is – something further emphasized by his belief that he is being honored in Chapter 6 and suggesting to Aḥashverosh that he be dressed and act like the king of Persia (Est. 6:6–9). He’s not just searching for glory, he’s searching for validation.
All of which is to say that Haman’s hatred of the Jews need not be explained by his Amalek ancestry. And it sets up for us two different types of anti-Semite. The first is irrational – a descendant of Amalek. No matter what we do, they will hate us.
The second type, however, doesn’t hate us irrationally – their hatred is prompted by our pride, our willingness to stand for what we believe in. And while the entire story of the megillah reflects on just how bad things can get when we are hated for those reasons, it’s overarching message is that if we maintain our pride and our fealty to our Judaism, we will walk away with “light and gladness, happiness and honor” (Est. 8:16).
There is much to ask about how this happened, given that King Saul wiped out all the rest of Amalek and Agag was only spared momentarily because Shmuel killed him – but that’s a discussion for another time.
It’s important to note that it’s not the same Kish and Shimi. They are clearly tribal ancestral names.