posted on Apr, 6 2023 @ 05:05 PM
A wonderful bird is the pelican,
Its beak can hold more than its belly can.
It can hold in its beak
Enough food for a week.
I’m damned if I know how the hell ‘e can.
I’m going to explore the theology of Shakespeare’s play “The Merchant of Venice”.
Any candid reader will be obliged to admit that William Shakespeare was not politically correct. “The Taming of the Shrew” was not a feminist
play, and Elizabeth Taylor’s wink is not enough to make it so. Despite his sympathetic treatment of Othello, Shakespeare insults the black skin of
Moors in his other plays. He allows us to see a human side of Shylock, just as he allows us to see a human side of Richard III, but that doesn’t
prevent him painting either man as the villain of the piece.
However, his condemnation of Shylock is not based on the difference between Jew and Gentile. It is based on the difference between the Old Testament
and the New Testament, between the demands of the law of Moses and the mercy shown by Grace. It is theological prejudice, not racial prejudice.
The first clue is in the introduction of his antagonist, Antonio, in the very first line of the play; “In sooth, I know not why I am so sad”. He
admits that he has no immediate reasons for sadness. He hasn’t yet learned about his friend’s financial needs. This “want-wit sadness” has
become, for the moment, part of his nature. He is being presented to us as “a man of sorrows and acquainted with grief” (Isaiah ch53 v3).
Then see how Shylock presents himself in Act 4, when he’s calling in the debt and demanding “the penalty and forfeit of my bond”. He says “I
stand for judgement”, and again “I stand here for law”. His immediate meaning is that he is the champion of judgement and the law, because he
needs them both in his case, but we could also take it in the colloquial sense that he stands as a symbol to represent judgement and the law.
In other words, he stands for the system which the gospel has replaced. We are told that God has “cancelled the bond which stood against us with its
legal demands” (Colossians ch2 v14). Again, we are told that Christ has “redeemed us from the curse of the law”, the curse being the judgement
imposed on those who do not keep the provisions of the law (Galatians ch3 v10 and v13, which must be read together). These things are echoed in the
redemption of Bassanio’s debt by his “nearest kinsman” Antonio.
Another clue is the reason for Shylock’s hatred of Antonio. It is because Antonio is a Christian who undermines his usury with “Christian
courtesy”. He is “a fawning publican”, straight out of the story of the publican and the Pharisee. “He lends out money gratis”. And
“gratis”, of course, is Latin for “by grace”, meaning something that is freely given.
The same point on the other side is being made by Portia’s keynote speech on the quality of mercy, pointing out that it comes from heaven “like
the gentle rain”. It is an attribute of God himself, who shows us how “mercy seasons justice”. She points out that “in the course of justice
none of us should see salvation”. In fact the final outcome of the play is an exposition of the verdict given by James; “For judgement is without
mercy to one who has shown no mercy; yet mercy triumphs over judgement” (James ch2 v13).
Thus Portia “(“the doorway”) is the one who presents the gospel message most explicitly. She was presenting it more obliquely when she offered
the three caskets to her suitors. Pay attention;
“Who chooseth me shall gain what many men desire.”
Obviously this is the path of sin.
“Who chooseth me shall get as much as he deserves.”
This is the promise of the path of salvation by works, and we all know where that leads.
“Who chooseth me must give and hazard all he hath.”
This is the path of faith, throwing ourselves upon God in trust.
Finally, we need to consider the way in which Antonio counters the demands of judgement. He does it by offering his life to redeem the debts incurred
by another man. We may observe his attitude when his death at Shylock’s hands is approaching. He says “I do oppose my patience to his fury”,
and he is disposed “to suffer with a quietness of spirit.” A little later, he calls himself “a tainted wether of the flock, meetest for
death”. This brings us right back to the “man of sorrows” of Isaiah; “like a lamb that is led to the slaughter, and and lie a sheep that
before its shearers is dumb” (Isaiah ch53 v6).
You will be wondering where the Pelican comes in. This image goes back to the zoologists of the Middle Ages, who were always being led astray by
long-distance observation without binoculars. The resulting misunderstandings gave us the suicidal packs of lemmings and the ostriches hiding their
heads in the sand, turning them into proverbial metaphors. Something similar happened to the pelican. Nowadays, we understand how pelicans feed their
young. The rhyme at the top of the page could have been written by Charles Darwin, but probably wasn’t. But the understanding of the Middle Ages was
that pelican mothers were visibly opening up their breast in order to allow their children to draw from and feed on their own blood.
This was enough to establish the pelican as a standard image of Christ, who gave his own blood to save his own people, and allowed them to drink it in
the Eucharist.
And from where is Antonio expecting to lose his pound of flesh? From his bosom, the area closest to his heart. (Yes, of course Antonio has a bosom.
Everybody has a bosom. Just the one) In other words, from the same area that was broken into by the pelican’s beak. That key detail marks Antonio
as the image of a pelican, and thus as the image of Christ.
He was offering up his own life in order to save his friends from the demands of the law.