The tomb of Queen Esther in Persia


“How much is the taxi to Khomeini Square?” “Gheymati nadore, it does not cost anything”, the old taxi driver spreads his arms. “Taʿarof nakonid, don’t play etiquette with me”, I tell him, but he just laughs, and repeatedly tells that he’d take me for free. But I know well that on such occasions it is important to agree on an exact price, otherwise the final amount will be just as far-fetched as the courtesy formula is, even so, I leave it up to him. After all, if you go on a pilgrimage, keep to the traditions. And be generous when visiting queens.

Hamadan is a perfect pilgrimage site. Even today it takes eight hours to drive through the desert from Isfahan, the largest Jewish community of Persia. You can imagine the great devotion of those covering this grueling trip on foot or with caravan. Nevertheless, the historical records show that since antiquity, thousands of Jews from Persia and other countries visited this place every year, the tomb of Queen Esther and her uncle, Mordechai.


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Esther, wife of the Persian king Ahasuerus, and her uncle Mordechai saved the lives of thousands of Persian Jews from the intrigues of the king’s chief commander, Haman, as described in the biblical book of Esther, and is enacted every Purim in all the Jewish communities of the world. This event certainly took place in the center of the Persian empire, Susa. Ecbatana, the former capital of the Medes, and in our times Hamadan, was the summer residence of the Persian kings, to which Esther and her uncle are said to have retired from the court after the death of Ahasuerus. Here they were buried in a common tomb, which is still the most important Jewish pilgrimage site in Iran.


We do not know how the original tomb looked. The oldest surviving depiction, Eugène Flandin’s illustration of 1840 in his travelogue Voyage en Perse (1851), already represents it in the present form. However, this building, which, with its double inner space, burial chamber and community room, and with the dome crowning the tomb, follows the type of the Shiite pilgrimage sites erected for the emamzâdehs, the descendants of the holy Imams, was built only around 1602, in the time of Shah Abbas the Great. As the picture shows, in the early 19th century it still stood outside of the city, but by the end of the century the bazaar completely flowed around it. According to contemporary travelogues, one could approach it only with a local guide, through a maze of doorways and inner courtyards. In 1970 however, when the Shah involved the ethnic minorities of Iran also in the celebration of the 2500th anniversary of the Persian monarchy, the Jewish community decided to restore and expand the site of Esther’s tomb by demolishing the houses along the nearest major street, erecting an ornate gate on the street front. However, this is never open. The real entrance still opens behind the building, from a small street of the bazaar. Here, from sunrise to sunset, Rabbi Rajad lets the visitors in.


The way to the tomb leads through a small rose garden. The door, uniquely, is a twenty centimeter large granite block weighing four quintals, which rotates, without any suspension, in a granite hole filled with oil. Its height is only 110 centimeters, forcing the visitor to bow his head, as is often read in the psalm above the entrance of the Sephardic synagogues: “But I through Your abundant love, enter your house; I bow down in an awe at Your holy temple.” (Ps 5:8). The space of entrance itself is a small synagogue, where, as Rabbi Rajad says, Jewish couples come from all over Iran to hold weddings. From here, some steps lead down to the graves of Esther and Mordechai. Several Hebrew inscriptions are on the walls around, which read fairly well, but the huge letters to the right of the stairs that lead to the grave were not spared by time. According to the pious interpretation of Rabbi Rajad, it is in Aramaic, which must be read from left to right (!), and it means: “You shall love your neighbor as yourself.”

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The wooden tombs of Esther and Mordechai imitate two sarcophagi, although their graves are obviously under the floor. The sarcophagi are new, carved by a Persian artist, Enayatollah Tusserkhani, during the restoration of 1970. The original sarcophagus was destroyed in a fire in the late 19th century because of the candles the pilgrims attached to it. Only its picture has survived in Eugène Flandin’s lithograph. A small prayer room is also attached to the space of the tomb. Monumental inscriptions run around on the walls, but they were so often repainted by hands obviously not accustomed to Hebrew script, that today they are largely incomprehensible.


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In the enlarged courtyard, in place of the demolished houses, a synagogue was built below the street level, planned in the distinctive modern style of the 1970s by the Iranian Jewish architect Elias Yassi Gabbay. He designed the modern sculpture, too, which stands in front of the street facade of the tomb. “What does it represent?” I ask. “This is the throne of Ahasuerus”, replies Rabbi Rajad, and immediately illustrates its use.


“Do pilgrims still come here?” I ask Rabbi Rajad. “Of course, very many! At Purim, the courtyard is full, but throughout the year they come from every Jewish city of Iran, Isfahan, Tehran, Yazd, Mashhad. And even from abroad. Just this morning there was a Jew from Paris”, he says with awe. “From Israel, of course, they cannot come”, I say. “Why? Sure, many people come from there as well. Only with Turkish passport.” “And the locals?” “In Hamadan we are very few. A total of five families, only fifteen people.”

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At farewell, Rabbi Rajad asks for a donation for Esther, and a pen for himself. I hand him a pen bought in the hometown of the inventor of the ballpoint pen, in the Arcade Supermarket of Budapest, a rather unique thing, but no: Rabbi Rajad collects fountain pens. He makes me promise next time to bring him a real German Lamy fountain pen from Berlin.


I step out in the street. After the devotion of the tomb and the silence of the court, the vibration of the bazaar immediately surrounds me. The whole city is flowing, buzzing, offering and buying merchandise, showing itself and living its social life on the narrow streets lined with shops, stalls, workshops. Just like two thousand five hundred years ago, in the days of Queen Esther, in Ecbatana and Susa.


Chemirami Trio, Iran • Sephardic song

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Epilogue. Queen Esther rewards her visitors with royal generosity. The next morning, in the first Tehran bookshop, I catch sight of a book, with Eugène Flandinʻs lithograph on the cover. Its title is فرزندان استر. مجموعه مقالاتی درباره ی تاریخ و زندگی یهودیان در ایران – Esther’s children. A collection of essays on the history and life of the Iranian Jews, with stunning pictures. Soon I will write about it.


La tumba de la reina Ester en Persia


«¿Qué cuesta el taxi hasta la plaza Jomeini?» «Gheymati nadore, no cuesta nada». El viejo taxista abre los brazos. «Taʿarof nakonid, no me vengas con esas», le digo; pero él ríe y dice machaconamente que me llevará gratis. Sé bien que en estos casos importa acordar un precio exacto, de otro modo la cuenta final será tan exagerada como haya sido la fórmula de cortesía, o más. Pero le dejo hacer. Después de todo, si vas en peregrinaje, respeta las tradiciones. Y sé generoso cuando visites a una reina.

Hamadán es un lugar de peregrinaje perfecto. Incluso hoy hacen falta ocho horas de coche a través del desierto desde Isfahán, donde está la mayor comunidad judía de Persia. Se puede imaginar la gran devoción de quienes cubrían el agotador viaje a pie o en caravana. Con todo, los registros históricos muestran que desde la antigüedad miles de judíos de Persia y otros países visitaban el lugar cada año, la tumba de la reina Ester y su tío Mardoqueo.


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Ester, mujer del rey persa Asuero, y su tío Mardoqueo salvaron la vida a miles de judíos persas expuestos a las intrigas del comandante en jefe Amán, como se describe en el libro bíblico de Ester, y se revive cada Purim en todas las comunidades judías del mundo. El hecho tuvo realmente lugar en el centro del imperio persa, Susa. Ecbatana, la antigua capital de los medos, hoy Hamadán, era la residencia de verano de los reyes de Persia, donde se dice que Ester y su tío se retiraron tras la muerte de Asuero. Aquí los enterraron en un mausoleo compartido, que aún es el lugar de peregrinaje más importante para los judíos de Irán.


No sabemos cuál era el aspecto de la tumba primitiva. La imagen más antigua, una ilustración de Eugène Flandin de 1840 publicada en su diario Voyage en Perse (1851), ya presenta su estado actual. Con todo, el edificio, con su doble espacio interior, cámara sepulcral y sala común, y la cúpula que corona la tumba, que sigue la tipología de los lugares de peregrinación chiítas erigidos para los emamzâdehs, los descendientes de los santos imames, es de 1602, bajo el reinado del sha Abbas el Grande. Como se ve en el dibujo, a principios del s. XIX todavía quedaba fuera de la ciudad, pero ya a fines del mismo siglo el bazar se agitaba a todo su alrededor. Según relatos de viajeros contemporáneos, solo se podía acceder con un guía local cruzando un enredo de puertas y patios interiores. En 1970, sin embargo, cuando el sha involucró también a las minorías étnicas en la celebración del 2.500 aniversario de la monarquía persa, la comunidad judía decidió restaurar y ampliar el recinto de la  tumba de Ester demoliendo las casas a lo largo de la calle mayor y levantando una ornamentada puerta en la entrada de la calle. Que nunca se abre. La entrada real sigue siendo la de atrás del edificio, desde una estrecha calle del bazar. Por aquí, de la mañana a la noche, el rabino Rajad permite la entrada a los visitantes.


El paso a la tumba cruza un pequeño jardín de rosas. La puerta es un único bloque de granito de veinte centímetros de grueso que pesa cuatro quintales y gira sin ningún otro soporte sobre un agujero del mismo granito lleno de aceite. Mide tan solo 110 cms. de altura, obligando al visitante a inclinar la cabeza, como se lee a menudo en el salmo que preside la entrada de tantas sinagogas sefardíes: «Mas yo fiado en la muchedumbre de tu piedad, entro en tu morada y me prosterno ante tu santo templo.» (Sal 5:8). El espacio de la entrada es en sí una pequeña sinagoga donde, como dice el rabino Rajad, vienen a casarse parejas judías de todo Irán. Desde aquí unos escalones descienden a las tumbas de Ester y Mardoqueo. Varias inscripciones judías se leen con toda claridad en los muros circundantes, pero las grandes letras a la derecha de las escaleras que llevan a la tumba no las ha respetado el tiempo. Según la piadosa interpretación del rabino Rajad, es arameo, y ha de leerse de izquierda a derecha (!). Significa: «Ama a tu prójimo como a ti mismo.»

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Las tumbas de madera de Ester y Mardoqueo imitan sarcófagos, aunque los sepulcros están obviamente bajo el suelo del piso. Los sarcófagos son nuevos, tallados por un artista persa, Enayatollah Tusserkhani, durante la restauración de 1970. Los originales los destruyó un incendio a fines del s. XIX causado por las candelas que los peregrinos colgaban. Solo ha sobrevivido esta imagen en una litografía de Eugène Flandin. Una pequeña sala de oración se abre junto la tumba. Inscripciones monumentales recorren todo lo ancho de las paredes, pero han sido tantas veces repintadas por manos que obviamente ignoran el hebreo que hoy son en gran parte ininteligibles.


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En el patio ampliado, donde estaban las casas demolidas, construyeron una sinagoga bajo el nivel de la calle, planeada con el estilo moderno peculiar de los años 70 por el arquitecto iraní judío Elías Yassi Gabbay. Diseñó también la escultura colocada ante la fachada de la calle. «¿Qué representa?», pregunto. «Es el trono de Asuero», responde el rabino Rajad, que se apresura a enseñarme cómo se usa.


«¿Aún vienen peregrinos?», le pregunto. «Claro, ¡muchos! Por Purim el patio se llena, pero a lo largo del año vienen de todas las ciudades judías de Irán, Isfahán, Teherán, Yazd, Mashhad. Y hasta del extranjero. Esta misma mañana estuvo un judío de París», dice con respeto. «De Israel, por supuesto, no pueden venir». «¿Por qué? Claro que pueden, muchos vienen de allí también. Pero con pasaporte turco.» «¿Y la gente de aquí?» «En Hamadán somos muy pocos. Cinco familias en total, solo hay quince personas.»

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Al despedirme el rabino Rajad me pide una donación para la reina Ester, y un bolígrafo para él. Le doy uno comprado en la ciudad del inventor del bolígrafo, en el mercado de Budapest, algo bastante único... Pero no: el rabino Rajad colecciona plumas. Me hace prometer que en la próxima visita le llevaré una auténtica pluma alemana Lamy de Berlín.


Salgo a la calle. Tras la devoción de la tumba y el silencio del patio, la agitación del bazar me envuelve de golpe. Toda la ciudad fluye, zumba, da voces ofreciendo y comprando mercancías, mostrándose y mirando y relacionándose en las estrechas calles flanqueadas de tiendas, pequeños patios, talleres. Tal como dos mil quinientos años atrás, en los días de la reina Ester, en Ecbatana y Susa.


Trío Chemirami, Irán • Canción sefardí

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Epílogo. La reina Ester recompensa a sus huéspedes con generosidad real. A la mañana siguiente, en la primera librería de Teherán, me topo con un libro con la litografía de Eugène Flandin en la cubierta. Su título es فرزندان استر. مجموعه مقالاتی درباره ی تاریخ و زندگی یهودیان در ایران – Los niños de Ester. Colección de ensayos sobre la historia y vida de los judíos iraníes, con asombrosas imágenes. Enseguida escribiré sobre esto.


Pink postcards 23


Sender Károly Timó 1st March Regiment
                                   Martini Battalion
FIELD POSTCARD           Bányai Company
350.

To the honored
          Miss Antonia Zajác
3rd district, Kis-Korona Street 52
Budapest





Previous letters (gray dots):

Galicia, 12 July 1915
Galicia, 6 July 1915
Galicia, 25 June 1915
Galicia, 10 June 1915
Debrecen, 5 June 1915
Budapest, 1 June 1915
Budapest, 1 March 1915
Budapest, 10 February 1915
Kecskemét, 30 January 1915
Dukla Pass, 11 January 1915
Felsőhunkóc, 4 January 1915
Sztropkó, 31 December 1914
Budapest, 23 December 1914
Budapest, 21 December 1914
Budapest, 11 December 1914
Budapest, 2 December 1914
Budapest, 28 November 1914
Budapest, 27 November 1914
Budapest, 18 November 1914
Budapest, 27 October 1914
Debrecen, 25 September 1914
Szerencs, 28 August 1914
My Dearestjul. 14.

You write in your cards that I write so little. But really, whenever it is possible, I write to you first.

As to whether I like Galicia, well, it would be nice, but only in peacetime. You know why. This postcard I send to you is an eternal memorial from your native land, because this is a bark.

I think that in lack of anything else this will also make you happy. But now I write you to write more often, because now you have more time than I.

Embraces and kisses from your J…w




[With this letter, it is difficult to preserve the reserved style of the objective publication. From every line, every letter scribbled with ink radiates the love for the dear one left at home.

However, the battalion was presumably not as far from the front as the region where his beloved Antonia was born. Their successful advance towards Lemberg would have not justify such a great retreat. Perhaps it was his mental world, seen from the far away front, that shrunk so much.

The exhibition closed a few weeks ago, which was also remembered a propos of one of the earlier pink postcards, there were some more birch bark postcards from the front. Perhaps they were used in the lack of front postcards, but in any case, a faint trace of the censor’s signature and stamp can be seen even on this one.

Interestingly, the few birch bark cards to be found over the web on collectors’ and auction sites, were sent without exception in the first half of 1915 from the Carpathians.









And they were not ruined during such delivery:


This was still the post office of the peacetimes!]

Next postcard: 25 July 1915