)O(

It was a hot summer day. Outside, the sun glittered in the dust of the road. Inside, all was dark. The room was filled with the voices of bearded elders in heated debate.

“We must not allow it!” cried one, grayer than the rest. “We cannot permit our sacred books to present a woman in such a fashion! Not only does she plot against the king’s edict, but she openly defies both him and her brother, who is her protector. Esther we can make a meek girl who threw herself on the mercy of her husband and master. But Vashti, we cannot hide. If we allow her story to be spread, women will forget their proper place. Revolution will occur, and we will be helpless to stop them.”

“Yes, yes,” another sighed, “but what can we do? The story is an important one. It cannot be left out of our sacred texts.”

“And Vashti is woven throughout the whole tale. She was behind everything! How can we leave her out?”

“What if...” a younger man spoke musingly. “...What if we replaced her?”

The elders muttered to each other derisively. “Replace her? A likely idea. With whom, that’s what I’d like to know. Gimbu the singing camel?”

The man grinned knowingly and spoke only one word. “Mordechai.” The room fell silent as the idea was absorbed, but slowly the men began to nod.

“It will work,” they decided. “It will work.”

So they began planning. It was no longer Vashti who had sent Esther to the palace, but Mordechai. In fact, Vashti never came to his house at all, simply disappearing right out of the book. Mordechai was the one to advise Esther to talk to the king. Of course, the Goddess was taken out as well.

Suddenly, one of the men stood up, clutching at his long white beard in dismay. “A problem!” he cried. “Oh, I have found a big problem, what to do!”

“What is it? Tell us, tell us!” the elders urged.

“Well, how are we to explain Esther’s arrival at the palace? We cannot just say ‘the old queen left.’ The people will think we are covering up something!”

Another silence fell, this one thicker with worry and despair. Eyes turned to the young genius, hoping he would once again come up with a solution, but it was a bear of a man with a black beard who finally spoke.

“Well, if women are feared for their rebelliousness, what is it they are most scorned for? Their vanity! We must only play on that.”

The men regarded him blankly, not understanding.

“It is simple. Keep Vashti in the early part of the story, but change her role. She would have loved to come before the king and flaunt herself before all his men. Only Yahweh struck her with leprosy, so she was afraid to appear in less than her full beauty. Thus the base vanity of women is exposed, and it is shown how it leads to their downfall.”

The men sat back again, relieved. They could now complete their work. Vashti would never be remembered.