以斯帖記 第六章 Esther 6
- 馬克牧師
- May 17
- 6 min read
各位平安，今天我們來分享《以斯帖記》第六章。
昨天我們看到了一個精彩的鋪陳：以斯帖皇后第二次邀請皇帝與哈曼赴宴。這不是單純的請客吃飯，而是一個經過精心設計的策略——她要讓哈曼在權勢與驕傲中放下戒心，等到時機成熟，給他一個驚天大反轉。
第六章的開頭，又是一個「巧合」：皇帝竟然失眠了。
這真的很有意思，皇帝睡不著，偏偏就在哈曼要來告狀末底改之前的一段時間，這時間的安排實在是精準。皇帝就叫人來讀歷史書給他聽——大概讀歷史比較催眠吧？但更巧的是，剛好讀到一段記錄：當年有兩個太監密謀刺殺皇帝，而末底改是那個揭發陰謀的人。
皇帝一聽，突然驚覺：「欸？我那時候好像還沒賞過末底改什麼呢！」
就在這個當下，哈曼剛好走進皇宮——深夜造訪皇帝，這在當時可是冒風險的事，因為擅闖可能就是死罪。但偏偏，哈曼這次闖進來，竟撞上了皇帝正好有事要問他。
皇帝問他：「對於王所喜悅的人，應當如何尊榮他呢？」
哈曼心想：「那還有誰？當然是我啊！」驕傲得不行。他立刻開出一個超級豪華的尊榮套餐：穿上皇帝的朝服，騎上皇帝的馬，然後找個高官牽馬，在街上高聲宣告：「這是王所喜悅的人！」
他說得眉飛色舞，完全以為那份榮耀就是為自己準備的。
但沒想到，第十節像是一把刀插下來一樣 —— 皇帝說：「你照你所說的，去為坐在朝門口的猶大人——末底改行吧！」
這一刻，哈曼可能不只是傻眼，簡直是五雷轟頂。自己剛剛說的每一句話，像回力鏢一樣直接打在自己頭上，現在不僅得看著仇人得榮耀，還得親手為他牽馬、宣傳！
這讓我想到一個詩仙李白的傳說。當年李白去考試時，被監考官 - 奸臣楊國忠和高力士嘲笑，說他只配替他們磨墨、脫靴。沒想到後來唐玄宗召見李白寫番邦國書，反過來叫楊國忠和高力士替李白磨墨、脫靴。真的是歷史與《以斯帖記》的異曲同工。
你可以想像這個時候，哈曼心裡有多火大、多不甘心嗎？
他心心念念想要除掉的仇人——末底改，結果他自己居然像是在親手打造這一份聖旨一樣，把最高的榮耀親手送給末底改。不只要讓末底改穿上皇帝的衣服、騎上皇帝的馬，還要自己走在他前頭，在街上大聲宣告：「這是皇帝所喜悅的人！」
哈曼就這樣，堂堂宰相，一人之下萬人之上的位極人臣的天下第二人，卻像個牽馬的僕從一樣，幫自己的死對頭開道，向全城宣告末底改的榮耀。想像一下，如果你是哈曼，這一刻的屈辱，可能比死還難受。
這場尊榮的遊行結束後，末底改淡定地回到了朝門口繼續他的工作；而哈曼，則是憋著一肚子氣、心亂如麻地衝回家。可以想像，他心裡有多複雜——羞辱、憤怒、挫敗、恐懼……各種情緒交雜在一起，根本快要炸掉。
他把這整件事一五一十地講給妻子和朋友們聽，但這次，他們給出的反應卻大大出乎意料。他們說：「你在末底改面前開始敗落，若他是猶太人，你必勝不過他。」
為什麼特別提到「猶太人」這個身份？他們並沒有直接提到上帝，也沒說是因為神在保護他們。但我們可以讀得出來——這背後的潛台詞，是一種敬畏與無奈：猶太人背後是有一位看不見卻掌權的神，你惹不起的。
這是《以斯帖記》的敘事特色——作者從頭到尾沒有直接提到「神」，但神的作為卻無所不在，藏在劇情背後，要我們用心去讀、用信心去發現。
而就在哈曼和家人討論的這個當下，劇情沒有停下來。正當他還在沮喪之中、朋友剛說完「你勝不過他」這句話，皇宮的太監們就上門了——皇帝派人來召哈曼赴第二場由以斯帖設下的宴席。
故事的節奏沒有停，一個更大的轉折正在醞釀中。
感謝各位的聆聽，我們明天繼續分享以斯帖記第七章，感謝各位的聆聽。
Peace to you all. Today we’ll be sharing from Esther Chapter 6.Yesterday, we saw a brilliant setup: Queen Esther invited the king and Haman to a second banquet. But this wasn’t just a simple meal—it was a carefully crafted strategy. Esther was waiting for the right moment, hoping Haman would lower his guard in the pride of his power, so she could deliver a stunning reversal when the time was right.
Chapter 6 opens with yet another "coincidence": the king couldn’t sleep.
Now, that’s interesting. Of all times to have insomnia, it just so happened to be the night before Haman came to ask for Mordecai to be executed. The timing couldn’t be more precise. To help himself sleep, the king called for the royal chronicles to be read aloud—perhaps history books made for good bedtime stories?
And here comes another “coincidence”—the passage read happened to be the one recording how two eunuchs once plotted to assassinate the king, and Mordecai was the one who exposed the plot.
Upon hearing this, the king suddenly realized: “Wait a minute! Did we ever reward Mordecai for this?”
Right at that moment, Haman entered the palace. Visiting the king uninvited at night was risky—it could be a death sentence. But again, “coincidentally,” the king had a question and needed someone’s opinion.
The king asked him, “What should be done for the man the king delights to honor?”
Haman, of course, thought to himself, “Who else could the king be talking about but me?” Drunk with pride, he proposed the most extravagant honors: dressing the man in royal robes, placing him on the king’s own horse, and having a noble official lead him through the city shouting, “This is what is done for the man the king delights to honor!”
He painted the whole picture with glee, convinced this royal treatment was meant for himself.
But then, verse 10 drops like a hammer: “Go at once… Get the robe and the horse, and do just as you have suggested for Mordecai the Jew, who sits at the king’s gate.”
Can you imagine Haman’s face in that moment? It wasn’t just shock—it must have felt like thunder striking. Every word he had just spoken came back at him like a boomerang. Not only would Mordecai receive the honor—Haman would have to be the one to announce it and lead the parade!
It reminds me of a story from Chinese history about the famous poet Li Bai. During his time, he was mocked by corrupt officials who claimed he was only fit to carry ink and remove boots. But years later, when the emperor summoned Li Bai to write letters to foreign nations, those very same officials were ordered to serve him by grinding ink and removing his boots. Just like the story of Esther, it’s poetic justice.
Can you imagine how furious and humiliated Haman must have felt?
The very man he was plotting to destroy—Mordecai—was now riding the king’s horse, wearing the king’s robes, and being publicly honored… by Haman himself! Haman had to walk in front of him, shouting, “This is what is done for the man the king delights to honor!” Like a servant leading a parade for his enemy.
Think about it: Haman, the second most powerful man in the empire, now reduced to the role of a humble escort for his worst enemy. If you were Haman, this kind of humiliation might feel worse than death.
After the parade, Mordecai quietly returned to his post at the king’s gate, as if nothing had happened. But Haman rushed home in utter panic and emotional turmoil. Imagine the swirl of emotions—humiliation, rage, confusion, fear—all crashing inside him.
He told his wife and friends everything that had just happened. But this time, their response shocked him. They said: “Since Mordecai, before whom your downfall has started, is of Jewish origin, you cannot stand against him—you will surely come to ruin!”
Why mention that Mordecai is a Jew? They didn’t explicitly talk about God, but there’s an unspoken reverence here—a sense that behind the Jewish people stands an unseen, almighty force you don’t want to mess with.
That’s the literary genius of Esther: the author never once mentions God directly, yet God’s presence and providence are everywhere—hidden within the plot, waiting to be discovered by eyes of faith.
And just as Haman and his family were still digesting this terrifying omen, the story didn’t pause. Before Haman could catch his breath, the king’s eunuchs arrived—summoning him to the second banquet with Esther.
The pace of the story accelerates. A dramatic turning point is just around the corner.
Thank you all for listening. Tomorrow, we’ll continue with the exciting developments in Chapter 7 of Esther. May God bless you.
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