If you know your Jewish calendar, you know that today (until sundown) is Purim, the annual festival commemorating the triumph of the Jews in Persian captivity over the persecution instigated by the evil Haman.

It’s the story we read in the Biblical book of Esther, in which a young Jewish woman named Hadassah (called Esther in Persian — both names mean myrtle in their respective languages) becomes queen to Ahasuerus, king of the Persian Empire (either Xerxes I or Artaxerxes II, depending on which historian one consults). When Haman, one of the king’s advisers, takes offense to a perceived slight by Mordecai, Esther’s elder cousin and foster father, and threatens mass murder of the Jews, Esther uses her influence on the king to engineer the deliverance of her people.

By tradition, the entire book of Esther — called the Megillah, the Hebrew word for scroll — is read aloud from beginning to end during the Purim celebration, once in the evening and again the following morning. This tradition gives us the expression “the whole megillah,” referring to something lengthy, detailed, and tedious. (Apparently, the author of the phrase wasn’t a fan of this tradition!)

Space does not permit us to print the whole Megillah here. I would, however, like to call your attention to the book’s core lesson, which is summarized in Mordecai’s words to Esther, as he prevails upon her on behalf of her people: “Do not think in your heart that you will escape in the king’s palace any more than all the other Jews. For if you remain completely silent at this time, relief and deliverance will arise for the Jews from another place, but you and your father’s house will perish. Yet who knows whether you have come to the kingdom for such a time as this?” (Esther 4:13-14).

It’s that final sentence that spurs Esther to action. To the casual observer, the reasons why Esther had become queen seemed obvious: “The young woman was lovely and beautiful… now the young woman pleased [the king], and she obtained his favor” (Esther 2:7, 9). Mordecai wanted Esther to consider the fact that her beauty — in particular, her unique attractiveness to King Ahasuerus — was no accident. She had been blessed with these attributes and elevated to this position because God had a specific purpose for her. Now, the moment to fulfill that purpose had arrived.

Esther’s gift was her comeliness. Sometimes it’s easy for those of us who may not possess some quality in abundance to devalue that quality in others. The plain among us sometimes scorn the beautiful. Those of us who are less talented athletically may mock those whose gifts seem purely physical. Those of average intelligence might deride those brighter than ourselves. Those given to scholarly pursuits might ridicule those who pursue manual labor, and vice versa.

But in fact, “every good gift and every perfect gift is from above, and comes down from the Father of lights” (James 1:17). The Lord gives a variety of gifts, because He has uses for all of them (2 Timothy 2:20-21). Some vessels are lovely, while some are common; some are made of gold or silver, while others are wood or clay; but all are essential (1 Corinthians 12). What’s vital for each of us is to recognize our own individual gifts, and seize whatever opportunities God may provide for us to use those gifts in His service (1 Peter 4:10-11).

Notice one other thing. When Mordecai emboldens Esther, he does not specifically invoke the name of the Lord. In fact, Esther is unusual among the books of Scripture in that God is not directly mentioned in it even once. This reminds us that God’s plan and purpose may not always be readily apparent. He does not sign His name in bold letters to every opportunity. We have to remain alert, with our eyes, ears, minds, and hearts open all the time.