The king had given an order. The queen did not come.
In the first chapter of Esther, Ahasuerus learns that Vashti has refused his summons. The text describes his anger. It then records an action that caught my attention as I read: the king consults wise men who knew the law and understood the times.
He asks what should be done according to the law.
That was where my reflection began.
This man held the highest position of authority in the kingdom. Even so, other people’s knowledge was part of how its affairs were handled. There were people he consulted, people who had access to him and helped examine the matters brought before him.
I see wisdom in that act of seeking counsel. Someone responsible for a decision can recognize that they need other people’s knowledge to understand what they are deciding.
I kept thinking about this after my reading. I know the demands of running a business, honoring commitments and having to find a way forward when things do not go as expected. I understand how the experience of solving problems can gradually create an expectation that we should always be able to solve them.
Someone starts a business and learns almost everything as they go. They negotiate with suppliers, serve customers, manage money, hire people and correct mistakes. For a long time, the answers have to come from them because there are few people with whom to share the questions.
The business grows. Employees, partners and larger opportunities arrive. The founder remains the person everyone turns to when they do not know what to do.
It is easy to become accustomed to that role.
Experience helps us recognize situations, anticipate difficulties and decide more quickly. It can also create a quiet reluctance to say: I still need to understand this better.
Reading about the king, I thought about how often we confuse responsibility for a decision with an obligation to produce, alone, all the knowledge needed to make it. A choice can be ours while requiring information, questions and perspectives we do not yet have.
The description of those advisors also caught my attention. They knew the law, and the text presents them as men who understood the times. In my reading, that combination draws attention to the value of considering both knowledge and the context in which it will be applied.
That is a very practical requirement in business.
Imagine a businesswoman who receives an offer to open an operation in another city. The potential partner knows the market, the premises seem suitable and the initial forecasts look encouraging. She starts researching suppliers, calculating the investment and imagining the business up and running.
The opportunity takes shape before certain questions find their way into the conversation.
Who will run her existing business while she is away? How long might the new operation take to support itself? Is the money she plans to invest truly available, or does it also protect commitments she has already made?
Until then, she had been thinking mainly about what she could build. As she examines these questions, she realizes she also needs to decide what she can sustain while building it.
Expansion may still make sense. It may require a different sequence: preparing the team, testing demand, negotiating different terms or starting with a smaller operation. A thoughtful conversation can help her see these possibilities before signing a contract turns an idea into an obligation.
I think about the value of having someone who can follow that reasoning attentively. Someone who understands what I want to do, takes the time to understand my reasons and has the freedom to ask about what has been left out.
Some decisions bring money, time, work and relationships together. A suitable answer for one part may create a difficulty in another. A career opportunity may be excellent and require significant changes in family life. A project may fit the budget while consuming time I have already committed elsewhere.
This is where I see the role of Private Advisory. A person brings a concrete situation; I listen, ask questions, challenge assumptions and share my perspective. The work becomes more meaningful when we can understand what is at stake beyond the way the problem was first presented.
This also depends on the willingness of the person seeking advice. I may arrive at a conversation so committed to an answer that every question feels like an obstacle. I may want an assessment while hoping that nothing important will need to change.
Recognizing that expectation creates room for a more honest conversation. I can say what I want, explain what concerns me and acknowledge which information I still lack. The person listening gains a better understanding of the situation they have been invited to consider.
The story in Esther also reminds me to examine the quality of that advice. The outcome removes Vashti and extends the incident into a decree for the kingdom. The wisdom I recognize in seeking counsel therefore comes with a responsibility: to assess what is being recommended, its foundations and its consequences. Having advisors does not, by itself, ensure a just decision.
An advisor needs to be able to contribute and recognize the limits of their knowledge. The person deciding remains responsible for weighing the advice. The relationship requires discernment on both sides.
I return to the detail that first caught my attention during that reading. In the presence of people who knew the laws and affairs of the kingdom, the king asked a question.
The scene stays with me because I think of everything a question makes possible while there is still time to hear the answer: discovering an overlooked condition, recognizing a consequence, reconsidering a path or moving forward with a clearer understanding of the commitment being made.
The next time I face an important choice, I want to remember to make that space. Bring the question to someone who can contribute. Share my doubts as well. Listen closely enough for the conversation to change something.
The decision will remain mine. I want to reach it with a better understanding of what is in my hands.