Review: Veiling Esther, Unveiling Her Story: The Reception of a Biblical Book in Islamic Lands by Adam J. Silverstein (original) (raw)

The Book of Esther is a complex piece of literature that was interpreted and re-interpreted in various ways throughout history. While many scholars have written many books and studies on the Book of Esther, Adam J. Silverstein points us to one of the major gaps, which is how this elusive book in the Hebrew Bible was interpreted by Muslims throughout history. In chapter 1, Silverstein discusses the debate regarding the apparent discrepancy between the Qur’an and the Bible on the person of Haman. The Qur’an associates Haman with Pharaoh and not Babylon. There is both a geographic and chronological difference with this figure between both texts. Nonetheless, Silverstein argues that the person of Haman in both texts is a reference to the same Haman. He states that it is not necessarily that Esther’s Haman is any more the historic figure as the Qur’anic Haman, but that they both adopted this villainous figure from a general Near Eastern folklore, in which Haman is a recurring antagonist to many stories, such as in the Book of Tobit. Additionally, Silverstein argues the literary parallelism between the stories of Joseph in Pharaoh’s court with Mordecai in Ahashwerosh’s court in Israelite and Jewish midrash. Also, there is an assumed genealogical link between Pharaoh and Haman, both being possibly Amalekites. This makes me wonder that if Haman is a common antagonist in several Near Eastern stories, whether it is actually a title, associated with Ahriman, the Zoroastrian spirit of destruction or the Devil, and is, therefore, associated with anyone with a Devilish mind in Near Eastern literature. After all, the Septuagint refers to Haman as the “diabolos” (the Devil) (Esther 8:1). This especially comes to mind as, in chapter 5, Silverstein compares Esther with Persian storytelling, especially those concerning king Bahman, whose name means good spirit in contrast with Ahriman. In chapter 2, Silverstein gives several approaches that Muslims evince throughout history in their reception to the story of Esther. Due to being aware that Haman appears misplaced in the Qur’an, some Muslim historians have ignored the Book of Esther altogether, while others replaced Haman with a different name, such as Haymūn, as done by the Muslim historian al-Nuwayrī (d. 1332). Other Muslim historians, such as al-Ṭabarī (d. 923) have ignored Haman in their writings on Esther. The fourth approach by Muslim historians, though very few of them, such as al-Bīrunī (d. 1048), wrote about Esther and Haman as it is, even though aware of the contradictory implication with the Qur’an for doing so. Chapter 3 gives a Samaritan reception of the Book of Esther. While Silverstein’s main theme throughout the book is to discuss the Muslim reception, he introduces the Samaritan Abul-Fatḥ’s (c. 14th century) account, as it was written in Muslim-ruled land. Abul-Fatḥ reverses the story where the Jews become the antagonists against the Samaritans. This version is, therefore, a child of the Jewish-Samaritan hostility. Chapter 4 introduces a Persian midrash of the Book of Esther. The interesting feature of the work is that Abraham and Haman were considered brothers. Silverstein posits that throughout ancient midrashim, the stories of Abraham and Esther has featured several parallels, such as Abraham asking Sarah to conceal her identity in Egypt and in the court of the king, in a similar fashion that Mordecai asks Esther in Ahashwerosh’s court. Silverstein argues that while Abraham’s brother is Haran, with which the Semitic languages is sometimes fluid between the /r/ and /m/ sounds, there is more to the story in Judeo-Persian literature. Haran, in such literature, is said to have volunteered to toss Abraham into a fire, only for Abraham to come out unharmed, while Haran succumbs to the burning. This could parallel Haman preparing the gallows for Mordecai only to be tossed in them. Chapter 5 compares Esther with ancient Persian storytelling, many of which are pre-Islamic, but survived through Muslim sources. Silverstein makes it clear that he does not at all suggest that either Esther had subtexts in some Persian stories or vice-versa. However, that there, in fact, are shared plots, subplots, and motifs between Esther and some of these ancient Persian stories. In particular, Silverstein compares Esther with the 1001 Nights, in which a woman courting a king cleverly saves herself and other women. Silverstein also notes the Rekhesh-riders in Esther 8:10 with the ShāhNāma’s Rustam riding a horse called “Rakhsh.” It is not to assume either took the name from the other, but it sheds light on what this hapax legomenon in Esther might be referring to. Silverstein also compares Esther with other ancient stories, namely, the BahmanNāma, DārābNāma, Samak-e ʿAyyār, and Vīs and Rāmin, all of which share similar, but usually extended, plots, subplots, and motifs with Esther. Silverstein concludes that there is perhaps an ancient Persian storytelling culture that many of these Persian stories and Esther belonged to. Chapter 6 argues that Muslim sources shed light to Haman’s description as a “Bougaios” instead of an “Agagite” in the Greek versions of Esther. The hypothesis presented by Augustin A. Calmet (d. 1757) is that the term “Bougaios” is related with the Persian eunuch Bagaos, who was associated with both the Persian and Pharaonic courts. Silverstein shows that Bagaos’ character is similar to that of Haman’s, especially if one aggregates both the biblical and Qur’anic accounts. Silverstein demonstrates that Islamic sources might be witnesses that the hypothesis of associating Haman with Bagaos dates prior to the tenth century, much earlier than Calmet’s proposition. In the final chapter, Silverstein tackles the question why Mordecai refused to bow to Haman, even though bowing to Haman would not have constituted a threat to the biblical theology at the time, unlike how it may be perceived in the Qur’an. Silverstein interweaves many texts from the ancient Near East, Hebrew Bible, New Testament, extra-biblical literature, and the Qur’an to show that the event has a literary significance, in which this motif is common in many texts in the Near East. He especially focuses on Satan’s refusal to bow before Adam as a possible literary parallel of this event. Silverstein, thus, associates the narrative of Mordecai’s refusal to its literary theme and not its theological objections. Silverstein also adds an appendix of a Muslim feminist re-articulation of Esther by Zaynab Fawwāz (d. 1914). Silverstein has compiled an exceptionally significant study of Esther’s reception from Muslim sources or from those living in Muslim lands. He has proven that studying these sources provide insights about how Esther was understood not only by Muslims, but also by Jews who were living among them; insights that might have been forgotten and were no longer inherited within surviving Jewish or Christian sources. Silverstein is not claiming that he is filling a lacuna in scholarship. His main argument is that there exists a large abyss in Esther studies and that he is merely proving the existence of such chasm, which is patiently waiting for it to be discovered by biblical scholars, as it has been, for the most part, neglected. This book is pioneering in its field and essential to any serious scholar of Esther or even general readership, who are interested to know the evolution of literature in the Near East.