Earlier
this week I reread Shakespeare’s tragedy, Othello,
because I had the rap song from the Reduced Shakespeare Company on Othello
stuck in my head. Besides, I was waiting for the cable company to come and fix
my cable so I had three hours to spend gorging myself on Shakespeare (incidentally,
the cable guy never showed up, but that’s another tirade altogether).
Othello
is an interesting play. It’s about a general named Othello who runs off with a
nobleman’s daughter, Desdemona. The nobleman is miffed because he can’t imagine
that his pure daughter would go off and marry a soldier without permission. You
just didn’t do stuff like that in polite society, especially since Othello is a
Moor (a black person) and Desdemona is white. Othello and Desdemona are in
love, though, but like all the lovers in Shakespeare’s tragedies, they are
doomed from the start.
But it’s not Othello I really want
to talk about. It’s Iago. Iago is not happy with the Moor of Venice. Actually,
he hates him. Really hates him. Hates him to the point where he is willing to
go to any lengths to get rid of him. Part of the reason Iago hates Othello is
that despite all of Iago’s great qualities and credentials, Othello makes
Michael Cassio his lieutenant. Iago is left to be Othello’s ancient, which
means he is an advisor. Iago is not happy with Cassio’s promotion. What
literary critics have said about Iago is that of all Shakespeare’s villains,
Iago is probably the most sinister because he maintains his reputation of
integrity while spilling poisonous words into everyone else’s ear. All of these
terrible things happen to the people in the play because of Iago’s words, but
Iago doesn’t have to lift a finger to do the dirty work.
Iago is the embodiment of what the
passage I’m preaching on this Sunday is warning against. In the epistle of
James, the author talks about how it is our cravings that cause disputes among
us. He says in James 4:1-2, “Those conflicts and disputes among you, where do
they come from? Do they not come from your cravings that are at war within you?
You want something and do not have it, so you commit murder. And you covet
something and you cannot obtain it; so you engage in disputes and conflicts.”
Iago wants something: he wants Cassio’s position. The irony of Othello is that
it is jealousy that drives jealousy: Shakespeare’s green-eyed monster is what
leads Othello to strangle Desdemona, but it is Iago’s jealousy that leads him
to use jealousy as Othello’s downfall to begin with. Iago murders his pawn Rodrigo,
Othello murders Desdemona, Iago then murders his own wife, Emilia, and the list
goes on. In a very literal sense, Iago shows what James means when he says, “You
want something and you cannot have it, so you commit murder.”
How often our ambitions and our envy
lead us to say and do things we might not otherwise do.
It’s ironic that Iago’s position is
an ancient. An ancient was someone who was wise and filled with knowledge. It’s
Iago’s reputation for his integrity and wisdom that wins him a place at Othello’s
side as his advisor. I don’t think it can be argued that Iago is wise; he’s
certainly cunning, or crafty. The serpent in Eden was “crafty” or “wise.” James
tells us that there are two different kinds of wisdom: wisdom that comes from
above and earthly wisdom. Wisdom from above, James said in 3:17 is, “first
pure, then peaceable, gentle, willing to yield, full of mercy, and good fruits,
without a trace of partiality or hypocrisy.” Iago is clearly not willing to
yield, and he is certainly not filled with mercy. Iago is embodies the second
kind of wisdom: “Such wisdom does not come from above, but is earthly,
unspiritual, devlish. For where there is envy and selfish ambition, there will
be disorder and wickedness of every kind.” In short, there will be chaos. And
to coin a phrase from The Dark Knight,
Iago is an agent of Chaos.
Christ is our example of the kind of
wisdom we are to strive for. When we put others first, realizing that we are
all made in the likeness of God and all equal at the level of existence; when
we are willing to yield and realize that just because we disagree doesn’t make
me right and you wrong; when we realize that everything we say and do is to be
said and done in the name of Jesus Christ, we finally embody the kind of wisdom
that God calls us to strive towards. Christ yielded; he stood before the
religious leaders and let them take him to the cross. Christ came peaceably,
using his words to teach and preach the message of salvation. Christ was gentle
and full of mercy, reaching out his hands to embrace the widow, the orphan, the
sick, and the lame.
My sermon on Sunday is going to focus on another theme that this scripture passage in James 3 and 4 brings up, but it’s interesting how clearly I can see theology peeping through things like Shakespeare. I’ve always been fascinated by Christ and culture studies, and after seeing Iago through the lens of this passage in James, I’m doubly convinced that you can find Christ even in Shakespeare. All we have to do is look J
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