Catholic Commentary
Esther Approaches the King
1Now on the third day, Esther put on her royal clothing and stood in the inner court of the king’s house, next to the king’s house. The king sat on his royal throne in the royal house, next to the entrance of the house.2When the king saw Esther the queen standing in the court, she obtained favor in his sight; and the king held out to Esther the golden scepter that was in his hand. So Esther came near and touched the top of the scepter.
Esther 5:1–2 describes Esther's risky approach to the Persian king after fasting and prayer, and his sudden transformation from terrifying anger to merciful tenderness. The extended Greek text emphasizes God's intervention in changing the king's heart, leading him to grant her life, audience, and favor through the symbolic extension of his golden sceptre.
Esther risks death to approach the king, and God quietly rewrites his heart—showing us that true power answers to mercy, not force.
His words are tender and identifying: "I am your relative." The king reminds her that she is not a stranger petitioning an alien power but one who stands in covenant relationship. "You shall not die, for our command is openly declared to you: 'Draw near.'"
Esther 5:2 — The Sceptre Extended
The golden sceptre in ancient Near Eastern usage was the instrument of royal authorization — its extension meant the petitioner was granted life, audience, and favor simultaneously. Here the king does not merely hold it out but "laid it upon her neck, and embraced her." The gesture fuses legal pardon with personal reconciliation. The words "Speak to me" complete the transformation: the intercessor who risked death by speaking is now explicitly invited to speak. Her voice, which could have cost her life, is now solicited by the very authority she feared.
Catholic tradition has read Esther as one of Scripture's most developed types of the Blessed Virgin Mary. St. Bernard of Clairvaux, in his famous sermons on the Virgin, draws precisely on this scene: as Esther approached the throne to intercede for her people facing death, so Mary approaches the throne of her Son to intercede for a humanity under the sentence of sin. The parallel is structurally exact — the intercessor who is beloved of the king, who places herself at risk (in Mary's case, identifying completely with sinful humanity), and whose prayer moves the sovereign to mercy.
The Catechism of the Catholic Church (§2617) cites the prayer of Esther as a model of the "prayer of petition" rooted in faith and humility, while §969 explicitly grounds Mary's intercession in her unique relationship to Christ the King, noting she "by her manifold intercession continues to bring us the gifts of eternal salvation." The extension of the sceptre and the words "Speak to me" acquire profound Marian resonance: the Church has always understood that Christ does not refuse the intercession of His Mother.
More broadly, the passage illuminates the theology of intercessory prayer itself. The Catechism (§2634–2636) teaches that intercession is a form of prayer that conforms us to Christ, the one Mediator, and that we are invited — indeed commanded — to "draw near" (cf. Heb 4:16) to the throne of grace with confidence. Esther's trembling approach is not a failure of faith; it is faith purified by awareness of divine majesty. Her fear and her boldness coexist — exactly the "holy fear" the tradition distinguishes from servile fear. God does not change because Esther approaches; but God uses Esther's approach as the instrument through which His mercy is enacted in history. This is the sacramental logic of intercession: human cooperation with divine grace.
Contemporary Catholics often find intercessory prayer difficult — either treating it too casually (as though God were a vending machine) or too fearfully (as though boldly asking were presumptuous). Esther's approach corrects both errors. She prepares herself through fasting and prayer before she acts; she dresses, walks, and presents herself with full intentionality. Intercession is not a passive whisper; it is an act of the whole self.
The practical lesson for today is the rhythm Esther demonstrates: first, strip yourself of self-reliance (the mourning garments, the fast); then, clothe yourself in the dignity God has given you (baptismal grace, the sacraments); then, walk toward the One you fear and love, leaning on companions (community, the saints).
Catholics in situations of grave need — interceding for a seriously ill child, a friend in spiritual danger, a society drifting from God — can enter this passage imaginatively. The king's words "Draw near" and "Speak to me" are spoken to every soul that approaches the throne of Christ in the Eucharist or in private prayer. God is not annoyed by your petition. He springs from His throne.
Commentary
Esther 5:1 — Esther's Preparation and Approach
The Greek (Septuagint) text of Esther, which Catholic tradition regards as canonical (as affirmed at the Council of Trent, Session IV), vastly expands the Hebrew version of this scene, and the additions are theologically decisive. The phrase "on the third day" is not incidental: it echoes the pattern of divine deliverance accomplished on the third day throughout salvation history (cf. Gen 22:4; Hos 6:2; 1 Cor 15:4). Esther's emergence after three days of fasting and prayer is itself a kind of resurrection from the death she had risked in interceding for her people.
The deliberate transition from "servant's dress" — the garments of mourning, humility, and penitential intercession she wore during the fast (cf. the Additions to Esther, 14:2) — to "glorious apparel" is not mere cosmetic preparation. It enacts the movement from abasement before God to confident mission in the world. She has been emptied; now she is clothed. The phrase "having called upon God the Overseer and Preserver of all things" ensures the reader understands: her beauty is not her own armor. She dresses for the king's court while her interior reliance remains entirely on God.
Her two maids serve a narrative and symbolic function. She "leaned upon one, as a delicate female" — an image of genuine vulnerability beneath the composed exterior. The Greek word translated "delicate" (τρυφερά) suggests one accustomed to being cherished and protected, not one exercising brute power. She approaches through force of love and intercession, not coercion. The repeated observation that "her heart was filled with fear" alongside "her face was cheerful and looked lovely" creates a powerful tension: Esther embodies the biblical posture of the righteous intercessor — composed in bearing, trembling in soul, wholly dependent on divine mercy.
The king's appearance is rendered in deliberately overwhelming terms: his throne, his gold, his precious stones, and above all "his face resplendent with glory" paired with "intense anger." The Greek construction heightens the terror: this is not a benign patriarch but an absolute sovereign before whom life and death hang in the balance. When Esther faints and changes color, it is not weakness of character but the realistic response of a mortal creature standing before annihilating power. Her collapse is the moment of total surrender.
Then the theological center of the whole scene arrives: "But God changed the spirit of the king to gentleness." The conjunction "But" (καί in the Septuagint, functioning adversatively here) marks the hinge of the entire narrative. Human power stood ready to destroy; divine providence intervenes not through a miracle of parted waters but through the quiet transformation of a human heart. The king "sprang from off his throne" — an image of eager, almost undignified mercy — "and took her into his arms." The sovereign comes down from his elevated seat to meet the fallen intercessor. This is the grace of condescension, of a power that descends rather than demands ascent.