The Intolerant Religion of Pride Text: Esther 3:1-6
Introduction: Two Seeds, Two Destinies
In the book of Esther, the name of God is famously absent. But to say God is absent would be like saying the playwright is absent from his own play. God's fingerprints are all over this story; His providence is the ink with which every word is written. And here in the third chapter, the central conflict of the book, which is a microcosm of the central conflict of all human history, comes into sharp focus. This is not merely a personal squabble between two court officials in ancient Persia. This is a collision of two worldviews, two religions, two covenants, and two seeds. It is the ancient, unending war between the seed of the woman and the seed of the serpent.
On the one hand, we have Mordecai the Jew. He is a descendant of Kish, from the tribe of Benjamin, the same family line as King Saul. On the other hand, we have Haman the Agagite. This is not an incidental detail. Agag was the king of the Amalekites, the one whom Saul was commanded by God to utterly destroy, and the one whom Saul sinfully spared. The Amalekites were the first nation to attack Israel after the Exodus, picking off the weak and the stragglers, and for this God swore He would have war with Amalek from generation to generation. So when Mordecai and Haman look at each other across the king's gate, they see more than just a rival. They see generations of covenantal animosity. There are old accounts to be settled.
This conflict is set in motion by a seemingly small act of defiance: Mordecai will not bow. In our therapeutic age, we are taught that tolerance is the supreme virtue. But the Bible teaches that there are some things a righteous man cannot tolerate. There are lines that must not be crossed, allegiances that must not be given. Mordecai's refusal to bow down is not petty stubbornness; it is a declaration of ultimate loyalty. And Haman's reaction, a rage so consuming that it demands the annihilation of an entire people, reveals the true nature of the religion he serves. The religion of self-worship, the religion of pride, is the most intolerant and bloodthirsty religion of all.
This passage forces us to ask ourselves some foundational questions. Where do we draw our lines? To whom, or to what, do we give our ultimate allegiance? And are we prepared for the rage of the Hamans of this world when we refuse to bow to their idols?
The Text
After these things, King Ahasuerus magnified Haman, the son of Hammedatha the Agagite, and advanced him and set his seat above all the princes who were with him. And all the king’s servants who were at the king’s gate were bowing down and prostrating themselves before Haman, for so the king had commanded concerning him. But Mordecai would not bow down or prostrate himself. So the king’s servants who were at the king’s gate said to Mordecai, "Why do you trespass against the king’s command?" Now it happened when they had spoken daily to him and he would not listen to them, that they told Haman to see whether Mordecai’s words would stand; for he had told them that he was a Jew. Then Haman saw that Mordecai was not bowing down or prostrating himself before him. So Haman was filled with wrath. But he despised in his eyes to send forth his hand against Mordecai alone, for they had told him who the people of Mordecai were; therefore Haman sought to destroy all the Jews, the people of Mordecai, who were throughout the whole kingdom of Ahasuerus.
(Esther 3:1-6 LSB)
The Exaltation of the Enemy (v. 1)
We begin with the sudden and unexplained promotion of Haman.
"After these things, King Ahasuerus magnified Haman, the son of Hammedatha the Agagite, and advanced him and set his seat above all the princes who were with him." (Esther 3:1)
The phrase "After these things" connects us back to the previous chapter, where Mordecai had uncovered a plot to assassinate the king, saving his life. In a just world, or even a reasonably managed one, Mordecai would be the one magnified and advanced. But this is not a just world; it is a fallen world, governed by the whims of foolish kings. The king's favor is a fickle thing. Mordecai's loyalty is recorded in a book, and then promptly forgotten. Instead, for reasons not given, the king promotes Haman, the covenantal enemy of God's people.
This is a picture of how the world often works. Faithfulness is overlooked while the wicked are exalted. The psalmist wrestled with this constantly. "For I was envious of the foolish, when I saw the prosperity of the wicked" (Psalm 73:3). From a worldly perspective, this makes no sense. But from the perspective of God's sovereign providence, it makes perfect sense. God is setting the stage. He is elevating Haman to the pinnacle of power precisely so that his fall will be all the more spectacular. God often gives the wicked enough rope to hang themselves, and in Haman's case, he will use that rope to build his own gallows.
Notice his lineage is emphasized: "the Agagite." This is a neon sign flashing "ENEMY." This is the seed of the serpent, coiled and ready to strike. The world system, represented by Ahasuerus, is blind to these spiritual realities. It promotes based on flattery, or caprice, or perceived utility. It has no category for covenantal faithfulness or covenantal hatred. But God does. And He is arranging the board to checkmate the serpent.
The Unbowed Knee (v. 2-4)
The conflict begins with an act of civil, or rather, religious disobedience.
"And all the king’s servants who were at the king’s gate were bowing down and prostrating themselves before Haman, for so the king had commanded concerning him. But Mordecai would not bow down or prostrate himself... for he had told them that he was a Jew." (Esther 3:2, 4b)
Now, we must be careful here. The Bible does not forbid showing civil respect to authorities. Abraham bowed to the sons of Heth. Joseph's brothers bowed to him. So why does Mordecai refuse? Some have suggested he was just being a stubborn contrarian, but the text gives us no reason to think that. The writer presents Mordecai as a hero, not a crank. Remember, this is the same Mordecai who just saved the king's life, demonstrating his loyalty to the civil magistrate. His refusal is not anti-government.
The key is likely in the nature of the bowing demanded. The language "bowing down and prostrating" often carries connotations of worship. It is possible that Haman, in his puffed-up vanity, was demanding a level of reverence that belongs to God alone. But the text points us to a deeper, covenantal reason. Mordecai's explanation is simple: "for he had told them that he was a Jew." His identity as a member of God's covenant people forbids him from rendering this specific honor to this specific man, an Agagite, the designated enemy of God. To bow to Haman would be to betray the Lord who commanded perpetual war with Amalek. It would be a symbolic surrender, an acknowledgment of the serpent's authority over the people of God.
Mordecai's colleagues at the gate don't understand this. They operate on a purely pragmatic level: "the king commanded it." For them, the king's word is the ultimate word. For Mordecai, the King of kings has spoken, and that settles the matter. The lesser magistrate must be disobeyed when his command contradicts the command of the ultimate magistrate. This is the principle of godly resistance. Mordecai's spine is made of steel because his conscience is captive to the Word of God.
Notice the peer pressure. "They had spoken daily to him." This was not a one-time thing. It was a constant, nagging pressure to conform, to just go along to get along. "Why are you making waves, Mordecai? It's just a little bow. It doesn't mean anything." But it meant everything. Compromise always begins with "just." It's just a little pinch of incense to Caesar. It's just a little pronoun. It's just a little drag queen story hour. But Mordecai knew that small acts of disobedience to God are never small. They are treason.
The Nature of Tyrannical Rage (v. 5-6)
Haman's reaction to this one man's defiance is utterly unhinged, and in its madness, it is deeply revealing.
"Then Haman saw that Mordecai was not bowing down or prostrating himself before him. So Haman was filled with wrath. But he despised in his eyes to send forth his hand against Mordecai alone... therefore Haman sought to destroy all the Jews..." (Esther 3:5-6)
Haman is "filled with wrath." This is not mere irritation. This is the fury of a god whose worship has been refused. Pride is the worship of the self, and the proud man cannot tolerate any dissent. If you have a big ego, you have a small god. And if your ego is your god, then anyone who refuses to bow is a heretic, a blasphemer who must be crushed.
All the honors of the kingdom, the highest seat, the bowing of every other servant, all of it becomes worthless to Haman because of one man's unbowed knee. He later says, "all this is of no value to me as long as I see Mordecai the Jew sitting at the king’s gate" (Esther 5:13). This is the insanity of envy and pride. It cannot enjoy what it has for obsessing over what it doesn't have, which in this case is the total, unconditional submission of every single person.
And this is where we see the totalitarian impulse of the seed of the serpent. Haman's rage is not content to punish the individual offender. No, it must escalate. It becomes genocidal. "He despised in his eyes to send forth his hand against Mordecai alone." His wounded pride demands a cosmic vengeance. He learns that Mordecai is a Jew, and suddenly it all clicks into place for him. This isn't just Mordecai. This is his people. This is that stubborn, separate, peculiar people who worship an invisible God and refuse to melt into the great pagan pot. And so, the solution is not to punish one man, but to annihilate the entire nation. He sought to "destroy all the Jews."
This is the logic of every anti-Semite and every persecutor of the church in history. The hatred is never just personal; it is metaphysical. It is a hatred for God, which is then directed at God's people. They are a visible reminder of a transcendent authority, a holy law, and a coming judgment that the wicked cannot stand. And because they cannot strike at God directly, they strike at His children. The war against the Jews in Esther's time, the persecution of the church under Rome, the Holocaust, the modern war on Christians throughout the world, all spring from this same Hamasonic rage. It is the serpent's fury against the seed of the woman.
Conclusion: The Unseen King
The stage is now set for a confrontation of epic proportions. A vain and foolish king has elevated a genocidal maniac to the highest office in the land. A decree of annihilation is about to go out against God's covenant people. From all outward appearances, the situation is hopeless. The serpent appears to hold all the cards.
But there is another King, an unseen King, who is not mentioned in this book but who is directing every move. This King specializes in turning the tables. He excels at taking the wicked in their own craftiness. He is the one who will use the pride of Haman to destroy him. He will use the courage of Esther to save her people. He will use the faithfulness of Mordecai to exalt him to the very seat Haman now occupies.
The story of Mordecai and Haman is our story. We live in a world that, like Ahasuerus, is often blind to what truly matters. It elevates the proud and the wicked, and it demands that we bow to its idols of the age, whether they be sexual autonomy, the power of the state, or the worship of self. And like Mordecai, we are called to stand firm, to keep our knees unbowed before any authority that claims the prerogatives of God.
When we do this, we should expect the wrath of Haman. We should expect to be misunderstood. We should expect the world to tell us we are being divisive, unloving, and intolerant. But we must remember that our loyalty is not to the shifting commands of earthly kings, but to the unchanging Word of the King of Heaven. Mordecai did not know how the story would end. He simply knew his duty. He knew who he was, a Jew, and he knew who Haman was, an Agagite. And that was enough.
We also know our duty. And we know something more. We know how the story ultimately ends. We know that the serpent's head has been crushed at the cross by the true seed of the woman, the Lord Jesus Christ. We know that every Haman will be brought low, and every faithful Mordecai will be exalted in the end. Therefore, we can stand with a straight spine and an unbowed knee, not in our own strength, but in the strength of the one who has already won the war. For the King who seems absent is everywhere present, working all things, even the rage of wicked men, for the good of His people and the glory of His own great name.