On Shakespeare

Here are some miscellaneous thoughts from my Shakespeare class at Toccoa Falls College this past spring semester.


There is much more of theological relevance in Shakespeare than some people realize. They may miss it because it is never sectarian or in your face. But MacBeth is the most profound exploration of the compounding effects of unrepented sin outside the Bible. Hamlet dies because he chooses revenge over forgiveness or even justice, after missing Claudius’ profound meditation on the power of a repentance of which he is incapable; but he dies in a state of grace as signaled by his response to Laertes’ request “Exchange forgiveness with me, noble Hamlet.” That is why the play can end with flights of angels singing him to his rest. Merchant of Venice is about the triumph of grace over law (though its climax is marred by the forced conversion of Shylock.) Etc., etc., etc. The bottom line is that carcely a single play can be fully understood without reference to Christian teaching familiar to Shakespeare’s audience, though lost to us.

"Alas, poor Yorick . . ."

“Alas, poor Yorick . . .”

Another example of Shakespeare’s theological wisdom:  If you’re an anti-Semite Racist you don’t write the “Hath not a Jew eyes?” speech for Shylock; if you’re a romantic about human nature you don’t show him as genuinely evil. Shakespeare’s greatness lies in the fact that he does both. In “The Merchant of Venice,” we see human nature in all its complexity, including the effects of prejudice. We see Shylock’s evil but also his humanity, and thus we are forced to realize that “There but for the grace of God go I.”

"Hath not a Jew eyes?"

“Hath not a Jew eyes?”

I’ve often  said that Lear and Othello are the darkest of Shakespeare’s great tragedies, and they are. But I am more impressed with my latest reading that even in them something good comes from all the apparent suffering and futility, though it may be harder to see. At the end of Othello, Iago, who struts through the play serenely confident in his ability to manipulate anybody and get away with anything is caught and promised a severe punishment. After all the injustice that happens, justice is finally served. And after all his suffering, and only as a result of it, Lear gains self knowledge. Both these goods come at a terrible price, but the implication could be drawn that, at any price, they are worth it.

Lear and his daughters.  Cordelia, on the far right, is played by Alice Liddell--the Alice for whom Lewis Carroll wrote Alice in Wonderland!

Lear and his daughters. Cordelia, on the far right, is played by Alice Liddell–the Alice for whom Lewis Carroll wrote Alice in Wonderland!

The older and (I hope) wiser I get, the more I tend to draw that inference. And I think that wisdom consists, not simply in drawing it, but in doing so while being sobered at the high price our fallen nature often exacts, and realizing that our task is to keep the price from being so high when we can, for ourselves and others. The only way ultimately to do that is to believe and proclaim the Gospel, the Good News that the Price has already been paid. Whether he went so far himself I do not know, but because he understood life and portrayed its heights and depths so accurately, Shakespeare seen through the lens of Scripture is a Schoolmaster who points me to Christ.

Othello, Iago, Desdemona.  Iago is already coming between them.

Othello, Iago, Desdemona. Iago is already coming between them.

For more of Dr. Williams’ ruminations on literature and life, visit the Lantern Hollow Bookstore!



About gandalf30598

Theologian, philosopher, poet, and critic; minister of the Gospel who makes his living by teaching medieval and renaissance literature; dual citizen of Narnia and Middle Earth.

Posted on June 2, 2014, in Christianity, Donald Williams, Literary Criticism, Shakespeare, Theology and tagged , , , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink. 2 Comments.

  1. wompdestroyed

    Reblogged this on Shakespeare Unlimited and commented:
    Lear, Hamlet, Othello, and Merchant of Venice. Four monstrously dense and works of genius.

  1. Pingback: On Shakespeare | Shakespeare Unlimited

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