Misjudged: Rethinking Queen Vashti and the People We’ve Written Off
Recently, I was blessed with the chance to reconcile with someone I once considered a friend and am thankful to call a friend once again. We went about nine months without speaking after the final blow-up, which was probably about the amount of time we both needed to cool off and reflect on how things had played out.
For my part, I know there were words I had spoken that I regretted. Times I had reacted hastily rather than responding thoughtfully. It was messy. But it was only when we started talking again that I learned she was particularly upset about something that I said. There was only one problem.
I had never said it.
It was a misunderstanding; something that had been misreported and then never corrected once the dust settled. I don’t blame her—I’m sure I would have been upset if the tables were turned. And the things that I had said and done made it easy to believe. That understanding made it easier for both of us to move past our hurt.
Misunderstandings and misrepresentations—even accidental ones—greatly influence how we see others. I was reminded of this as I’ve tried to reconcile the mental image I was given of Queen Vashti in the Bible classes of my youth versus what I continue to learn as an adult.
As I’ve studied the book of Esther, I remember in my youth Vashti being presented as the foil—the character whose negative traits contrast and highlight the positive traits of the protagonist. In those older lessons, Vashti was presented as prideful and Esther as humble. Vashti was vain, while Esther was beautiful inside and out. Vashti defied her husband while Esther did everything she could to please him.
So how did we get from Point A, where Vashti was the villain whose removal paved the way for the heroine, Esther, to Point B, where Vashti has become someone we both pity and admire? Especially since the Bible never weighs in on Vashti’s character?
As it turns out, the writers who demonize Vashti base their impressions on a specific piece of literature—the Babylonian Talmud, which is considered one of the most authoritative sources in Rabbinic Judaism. The text was compiled around 500 A.D. and includes law, debate, and lore from rabbinic traditions based in Mesopotamia, where the Jews carried away from Jerusalem remained.
The Babylonian Talmud vilifies Vashti as a wicked, promiscuous tyrant who persecuted Jewish women and forced them to work naked on the Hebrew Sabbath. According to the text, God allegedly punished her for her cruelty by having the angel Gabriel attach a tail to her body just before Xerxes asked her to appear at the banquet. And she refused because of her pride, a conclusion later commentators seem to have latched onto. Well, the pride part, anyway. Somehow, the claim about the tail hasn’t found its way into those books.
Let’s sit there for a moment. A tail. Centuries of teaching have demonized this woman based on extrabiblical lore that God punished her with A TAIL.
Now I recognize that with God, anything is possible. However, before I risked slandering a woman who knowingly put herself in jeopardy by refusing a king’s orders, I probably would want a little bit more evidence.
The Jerusalem Talmud, by comparison, was compiled by rabbis in Israel around 300 A.D. and informs the traditions that are more widely accepted today. In contrast with the Babylonian Talmud, this text highlights Vashti’s wisdom and her decision to guard her dignity. This tradition also alleges that Xerxes regretted his hasty, alcohol-fueled decision, which Esther 2:1 may have been hinting at.
Most scholars concede that neither Talmudic tradition is viewed as “the accurate one.” They conclude both were compiled centuries after the fact to shape the moral lessons they wanted to teach. And boy, do they. Let’s consider both on their face:
One tradition presents Vashti as a prideful villain in contrast with the brave protagonist Esther and insinuates she was wrong to disobey her husband’s order to appear in public because she grew a tail. Her punishment was retribution from God for her wickedness.
The other tradition elevates a principled Vashti for a courageous refusal to parade herself, likely nude, in front of a crowd of men who had been drinking for days. Her removal, while unfair, paves the way for God to use Esther to save the Jews.
Once again, most experts don’t endorse either tradition as more historically accurate, since both were written centuries after the fact. Which is fair. However, I’m comfortable taking a stance on which tradition is more likely. And just to be clear, it isn’t the one that includes a tail.
I wonder how many of us, over the centuries, have judged Vashti as a vengeful, prideful character after reading sources from writers who based their conclusions on what the Babylonian rabbis said. And likewise, it’s just as easy to jump to the other ditch. Yes, Vashti might have been a noble queen who refused to appear unclothed in public because it was morally wrong. Or she might have been a shrewd woman who had seen enough of the royal court to know appearing before a drunken male crowd was unwise.
In reality, Vashti was probably like most of us—not evil to the core, not a paragon of virtue. She was probably a mixed bag, a woman trying to navigate through a complex life the best she could, doing so better some days than others. Whose actions and decisions could be interpreted a number of ways, depending upon what each individual believed about her—and what they wanted to believe about her.
And honestly, the same can probably be said of Esther. While she was portrayed as the heroine in my youth, in reality, it’s likely she compromised on her morality in the palace. As a very young Jewish woman, she had limited agency and responsibility, but the black-and-white thinking played out in both directions. As throughout much of history, women had limited power and options, and even royal women who had more power and options risked losing them when they asserted them in ways that displeased the men around them.
We can’t go back in time and investigate for ourselves what kind of woman Vashti truly was. But we can do our best not to jump into the same ditch the Babylonian rabbis did, assuming conclusions about people based on what we want to believe. It can be tempting to assign others motives and interpret things they say and do through that lens. But when we do, we risk looking through dirty lenses that need cleaning.
And equally important, we can choose our words and actions carefully in challenging situations so that others may think twice about our track record when disagreements occur. 1 Peter 3:15-16 encourages us to always respond with kindness to others with gentleness and respect for this very reason–so that negative accounts can be called into question. We can’t control what others say about us, but we can try to walk worthy of our calling as peacemakers. We won’t know the truth about Vashti on this side of heaven, but we can do our best to make sure we don’t leave room for doubt in our own walk and relationships.
~Kristin Yarbrough, Worthy Content Creator
Has there been a time in your life when you found out you were wrong about someone? Once you learned the truth, was it hard to change how you felt about them?
Have you ever been wrongly accused of saying or doing something? Did your reputation make it easier or harder for people to believe it?
Are there any people or situations in your life where you are guilty of black-and-white thinking? What could change if you chose to see them or it as an individual rather than a caricature?
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