In the period between Thanksgiving and Christmas break, 4th-form Humanities students are Portsmouth Abbey all read Shakespeare’s Macbeth. For many, it proves to be their favorite work.
What is potent in a Shakespearean tragedy is not the violence itself. After all, the Bard tends to keep those acts offstage. Instead, readers gaze deeply into the protagonist’s mind and psyche, where on full display is often an unraveling conscience. Passions, moods, and desires are transparent. What we see is the protagonist’s soul.
Take Macbeth. In act III, Macbeth sets his mind on eliminating Banquo. Earlier, in act one, the three witches—or “wyrd” (fateful) sisters as they are traditionally called—prophecy that Banquo’s lineage will become kings. This is a direct threat to the power-hungry Macbeth.
One would think Macbeth, having already bloodied his hands in King Duncan’s murder, would commit full-throttle to murdering Banquo and not think twice about it. But double-take he does.
Banquo’s virtue causes Macbeth to pause. In a lengthy monologue, Macbeth considers Banquo’s “royalty of nature” and the “dauntless temper of [Banquo’s] mind.” Furthermore, Banquo has “wisdom that doth guide his valor”—the exact opposite of what Macbeth has.
The battlefield-tested Macbeth, the one who earlier made “another Golgatha”, is unable to do what up until now has been his defining skill: killing people.
So what does Macbeth do? He hires out the job—and he goes on to challenge the assassins’ willingness to do the deed. Macbeth scolds them. “Are you so gospeled,” he says, “to pray for [Banquo] and for his issue?” No, they respond. We are men, they claim, and therefore we will do it.
The Gospel according to Macbeth
Consider that for Macbeth, the gospel is an emasculating force. It restricts those “manly” impulses towards death and murder that seem to come so naturally to him. Those who are gospelled are weak.
The irony of Macbeth’s inability to murder Banquo is glaring, of course. Macbeth, the Homeric pagan hero, killed Duncan with the help and support of his wife; now all he needs to do is get rid of Banquo and the crown is his. But again, he cannot murder, for to get close to Banquo is to get close to moral goodness, something that Macbeth is wholly without. Perhaps there is something “gospeled” about Banquo’s moral goodness that threatens the pagan Macbeth.
Scotland Then, the West Now
The late Shakespeare scholar Paul Cantor points out that Macbeth opens with Scotland being invaded by Norway and ends with an intervention from England. Scotland is thus suspended between two countries and cultures: the martial paganism of Norway and the civilizing, Christian influence of England.
Macbeth’s Scotland, trapped between these opposing forces, parallels today’s Western culture where, despite a residual Christian ethos, a kind of neo-paganism asserts itself everywhere.
There are plenty of examples of this neo-paganism, but to focus specifically on the Gospel it is clear that, for most, if not all, Western leaders, Christianity is only relevant insofar as it can speak to a progressive political agenda. The Gospel’s place in the public square depends on what it can say about sustainability, environmentalism, gender, etc.
Yet it is the Gospel—and the Western tradition writ large—that is the antidote to the modern chaos. It is precisely in becoming “gospeled”, in allowing ourselves to be taken by the Gospel, that we will not only be restored, but saved.
In the prologue to St. Benedict’s Rule, he writes, “Let our loins then be girt with faith and the observance of good works, and let us, gospelled, pursue His paths, that we may be worthy to see Him Who has called us unto His own kingdom.”
We pray for the grace to be gospelled, that whatever dark passions we might have are healed and transformed by God so that we may come to see Him now in this life and fully in the life to come.