shylock

Here's something that's been bouncing around my head today: why do I keep turning God into Shylock? For those of you who may not be familiar with "The Merchant of Venice," the protagonist Antonio (oddly enough, a Venetian merchant) is short of cash and needs a loan. He turns to his enemy- a Jew named Shylock (always seemed like a bit of an odd choice to me). Shylock agrees to the loan, but makes Antonio agree to offer a pound of flesh as collateral should something go wrong. And, because Shakespeare was his day's answer to the Lifetime network, Antonio's ships are wrecked, pirated, and probably worse meaning he's lost everything. More importantly he can't pay his debt. Of course, any normal person would waive the disgusting fee, but then no no normal person would have made that a condition in the first place. Without too much detail about why Shylock wants to make Antonio pay, it's safe to say Shylock wants it simply because it's his. The pound of flesh won't benefit him, it won't make him money (at least directly), or any friends in Venice where Antonio is well-liked. He wants it because he deserves it, by law.

I often see God this way. We've sinned, and we deserve to be punished for it. God deserves far more, even, than a simple pound of flesh. It's easy to question God's judgment and wonder why he doesn't just forgive the sin without a thought. I even find myself getting mad at God for getting mad at us - you know, big bad God who sits in judgment over all of us who deserve to die. This is wrong. God does not delight in punishing us. He doesn't want to punish sinners simply because he has a right to. But God is just, and simply forgiving the debt would undermine that. God, who is himself the definition of justice, must be satisfied. I guess theologians call it the satisfaction theory of atonement. It's what allows us to live free of guilt (our debt has not been just forgiven, but paid by another) and shows us how mercy can be just.

And, for the record, don't bash Shylock too much. When played well he is one of the most heart-wrenchingly conflicted characters that ol' Billy the Bard created (played poorly he's comic relief). After all, who else gets to say, "I am a Jew. Hath not a Jew eyes? hath not a Jew hands, organs, dimensions, senses, affections, passions? fed with the same food, hurt with the same weapons, subject to the same diseases, healed by the same means, warmed and cooled by the same winter and summer, as a Christian is? If you prick us, do we not bleed? if you tickle us, do we not laugh? if you poison us, do we not die? and if you wrong us, shall we not revenge?" (III, i) Shakespeare rarely wrote better stuff than that.