And Mordecai, the son of Jair, was garbed in sackcloth and ashes. His forehead was furrowed with deep wrinkles and his eyes were careworn. It was easily to be seen that many thoughts weighed upon his mind. He opened his lips and answered the questioners. “There is no news from Esther. And what would you hear from her? Do you not know that she asked for three days, and that this is only the first?”
All the assembled hearers bowed their heads in mourning and wiped their eyes. And when Mordecai, with a deep sigh, sank upon a bench, the entire house resounded with sighs and groans from all hearts.
Zerubbabel stood alone; none looked upon him. His heart was bitter to the point of crying out, and he would gladly have struck to right and to left with his fists; he relieved his mood with a wild outburst of laughter. All eyes were directed to him in astonishment, and Mordecai spoke. “Zerubbabel, arrayed in his finest clothes, laughs with such incisive laughter.—What ails him?”
Those about Mordecai stepped back, as if to open a path for Zerubbabel, that he might approach Mordecai. Zerubbabel, however, did not stir from his place. Brimming over with scorn and bitterness he cried, “Tell him what ails me!” In a few words they repeated the tenor of Zerubbabel’s speech, saying that he summoned his people to battle and counselled them not to place their faith in Esther.
Mordecai raised his glance to Zerubbabel; both men eyed each other like two enemies measuring each other’s strength. Then Mordecai spoke, emphasising every word. “In every age there are certain persons who imagine that the easiest way to break a wall is with one’s head.”
Zerubbabel answered with aversion and mockery. “But not every age has the misfortune to possess a leader with the timidity of a weak woman, who can only raise his hands to his head and cry bitterly!”
The gathering turned its glances from Mordecai to Zerubbabel and from Zerubbabel to Mordecai. It was as if two gladiators had stepped forth into the arena to wrestle and seek victory. And the onlookers became entirely absorbed in the scene about to take place, forgetting their great misfortune. Yet they crowded more closely about Mordecai, as though expecting protection from him against Zerubbabel.
Mordecai felt that all were with him and none was with Zerubbabel, so he uttered cutting words. “Better a weak old woman as a leader than a madman who inspires to impossibilities. The weakest of women may prevent a calamity, but the most insignificant madman can bring down upon his people the most grievous of disasters. I do not desire to insult you, Zerubbabel, but what you counsel is sheer madness.”
Zerubbabel replied bitterly: “Woe unto the people to whom it is preached that self-defence is madness, and greater woe still unto the people among whom such preachment finds ready ears. Such a people is a heap of dead bones, from which all signs of life have fled.”
Mordecai interrupted him with a calm, self-confident voice. “Who says that self-defence is madness? Am I not, then, for self-defence? Do I desire, then, that we exterminate ourselves before the enemy attacks us? Do I wish, indeed, that we cease to be? Do I not yearn to rescue our people? Let our people defend itself; but the means of self-defence are various, and your way, Zerubbabel, is folly.”