By Rabbi Rachel Esserman

Anyone who has attended a Purim service knows that Haman is a villain whose name must be blotted out by means of booing, hissing, stamping your feet or using a noisemaker when the biblical book of Esther is read. What becomes clear in Adam J. Silverstein’s 239-page exploration – that number doesn’t include the more than 100 pages of footnotes, bibliography and index – of Haman is that no one admires him, at least in Jewish, Christian and Muslim cultures. How Haman is portrayed and what that portrayal means to individual religious communities are just two things explored in his work “Haman: A Biography” (Princeton University Press). The author’s wide-ranging discussions – that include everything from the origin of the character to the differing methods used to denigrate Haman – can feel overwhelming at times, but the depth of his research is amazing.
Silverstein seeks to place Haman in historical, social and religious context. To do so, he writes about ancient Middle Eastern myths, the various versions of the Haman story in textual writings in the Hebrew Bible, the New Testament, the Quran and other lesser known versions of the story, in addition to religious commentaries of those works. Keeping track of these many different versions can be difficult, especially since the author refers to them by abbreviations after the first mention. (The work could have used an abbreviations listing for easy referral, although some were obvious enough that they weren’t a problem.) The author notes that the portrait of Haman that emerges “is complicated, confused, and even contradictory.” That’s a plus for Silverstein, because his real interest is discussing how religious cultures borrow from each other and adapt another groups’ customs to enrich their own. 
What might strike readers as unusual is that the author believes that, at least in the Masoritic text of the Hebrew Bible, Haman could be considered a tragic villain. The order to bow to Haman did not originate with him; rather, it’s the king who commanded everyone should to bow to his advisor. Mordecai is breaking the king’s law, rather just disobeying Haman’s whim. Silverstein notes that in other sections of the Hebrew Bible, Jews have no difficulty bowing to others; later commentaries invented reasons for Mordecai’s refusal, ones not found in the biblical text. Silverstein also notes that nothing that Haman says about the Jews to the king is incorrect: the Jews were spread throughout the kingdom and had their own rules/laws. It’s not that the author sees Haman as admirable, but rather that he might not be as evil as portrayed.
The author discusses the various Greek versions of the book of Esther and how they influenced Jewish and Christian cultures. For example, the Septuagint is not an accurate translation of the book of Esther, but rather a retelling of the story that includes additional elements. For example, it tells of Mordecai’s dreams, which affect the direction of the story, and the prayers Mordecai and Esther offered for their safety. (Neither are seen praying the Masoritic text.) This version also refers to Haman as a eunuch, but, since he still has children, Silverstein think that is more of a title for those serving the king. However, calling him a eunuch plays a large role in other versions of the text. These versions claim that Haman was part of a eunuch rebellion, which was foiled when Mordecai informed the palace of the eunuchs’ plot to assassinate the king. That is the reason behind Haman’s hatred of Mordecai: he is the one responsible for that failure. 
There are numerous other differences between these versions. For example, the relationship between Mordecai and Esther has been described as uncle and niece, first cousins, a father and adopted daughter, and (the strangest one) a husband and wife. (Silverstein doesn’t note whether that version has Mordecai divorcing Esther before sending her to the king, but if he didn’t, that meant she would have been committing adultery. On the other hand, one of the midrash – rabbinic tales – that the author doesn’t mention relates that Esther never slept with the king.) There are also many differences in descriptions of Haman’s origins. Silverstein discusses different possible reasons for this, but there are too many to discuss in a short review. The same is true about the possible real-life identity of the king, assuming, of course, that the character is based on a real person. 
The author believes that Christianity may have based its inclusion of the book of Esther in its Bible on a different version than the one found in the Jewish Bible, although he is unable to pinpoint which of the many versions he writes about that would have been. Haman is mentioned in six verses in the Quran, but it’s possible that the two characters are not related. That Haman lived in Egypt and worked for Pharaoh. His task was to build a tower (tying this to the story of the Tower of Babel), but Silverstein still manages to find threads connecting these very disparate accounts into the book of Esther. That includes finding Haman in ancient Middle Eastern tales of Marduk, something that scholars of those works might be able to argue about, but which are difficult for the casual reader to determine.
What might be of more interest to the casual reader are the ways that Haman has been used as an insult to condemn a person/group. The idea that Jews and Muslims may have considered Christians to be Haman seeking to destroy them – and Christians thinking the same about those groups – should come as no surprise. However, the fact that different factions in all three religions have referred to members of different sects as Haman might be. For example, Silverstein writes, “Jews called oppressive functionaries ‘Haman’ because the Haman of the [Masoritic text] Esther was such, but they also used this label with reference to other Jews (Rabbinites, Hellenizers, or Conversos). Jews in Muslim lands referred to greedy tax-collectors as ‘Hamans,’ while the ‘Hamans’ living in Christendom could be far more destructive in their intentions.... and actions.”
While contemporary Jews can celebrate Purim with great flair, what was done in the past was more violent. That included hanging, burning or crucifying an effigy of Haman. Another custom was eating a portion of Haman’s body. While many in contemporary times refer to hamantashen as Haman’s hat or pocket, other traditions see the cookie as parts of Haman’s body, usually his ears. Silverstein ties this tradition to a Christian one: some European Christians ate both fungus or cookies they called Judas ears. He wonders if the Jewish population borrowed this idea. However, which custom came first is up for debate.
Readers looking for a definitive answer about whether the book of Esther is based on historical events won’t find it here. Silverstein explores archeological evidence, but notes that “new historical evidence has been used no less by those arguing for Haman’s historicity as by those arguing against it. It’s not merely that scholars with contrasting biases have sought to twist the evidence to suit their point of view, but that the evidence is so fragmentary that it is difficult to know how far to take it.” That leaves him believing the question about whether Haman existed is still open to debate. 
Silverstein has produced an impressive, well-written, argumentative book that shows not only a far more complex version of Haman than one might expect, but also how one story can develop through time and be affected by different cultures. What came as a surprise was just how much material there was to discuss. Some parts were less interesting than others, but individual readers can argue about which sections they find the most intriguing. Ultimately, the author’s views of direct and indirect influence of these times and cultures are of less importance than showing just how difficult it can be to sift through these cultural influences. Silverstein seems correct in noting that these different cultural views of Haman are informed by “their fears, worries, frustrations, and hopes.” What seems clear is that readers will never look at Haman the same way again.