The Daughters of King Lear

By Gary Freeman

[Page 204]

     Old King Lear had three daughters, Goneril, Regan, and his favorite, Cordelia. He decided to divide his kingdom up before he died, so he called his daughters and asked them the how-much-do-you-love-me type question. Goneril and Regan knew that Lear "hath ever but slenderly known himself," and they proceeded to give him the flattery treatment. Their dissimulation was so apparent that both they and Lear should have been embarrassed. But Lear ate it up.

     The conned and the conn-ers: they were made for each other. Who is to say which is the more culpable? How does one tell the difference between the victim and the victimizer?

     Even if you've never read the play, you're way ahead of me, of course. Shakespeare could be predictable at times, there's no doubt about it. Cordelia was revolted at the performance of her sisters, and when it came her turn to rhapsodize on the theme of filial affection, she balked. Rather than lie, she made a few understated avowals of love and devotion. Lear was outraged. He stood on his right to be conned. Cordelia refused. Lear then disinherited Cordelia and divided his kingdom between Goneril and Regan. Once in control, they threw him out, naturally. Only Cordelia stood by him and ministered to him in the madness that came over him. Then she was hanged.

     The church, as an institution, is something like Lear. This is true both of individual congregations and the wider brotherhood. "Mirror, Mirror, on the wall, who is the fairest church of all?" And the answer, "You are. Church of Christ!" (Substitute Baptist, Methodist, Catholic, or other churches). It's the answer for the Goneril-like, Regan-like, preachers in the church. It's the church not just asking to be conned, not just begging to be conned, but demanding to be conned. Well, Church, there will always be Regans and Gonerils to tell you what your heart requires. They proliferate like dandelions on western hills. Take them unto your bosom and divide your earthly inheritance among them. You owe them that much. They paid dearly for your favors.

     The fact to remember about Cordelia's being disinherited by her father is that it wasn't because she was stupid, or deficient in shrewdness, or just didn't know what she was expected to say. She knew very well that the circumstances called for embroidery. She knew that she was being asked to play the eternal con game. Appease Lear's pathetic vanity with a few well-directed lies and she could have her share and perhaps a little more. The choice she made was a conscious one. But be true, Cordelia must have told herself, a kingdom which requires the sacrifice of integrity is a prison in disguise.

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     Well, Lear, now you are flanked by sycophants who will one day hold your own fate in their meretricious hands. It couldn't be any other way. You were the one who made the conditions. You will discover what happens to a man who requires hypocrisy and penalizes honest response. Then you will cry out in your anguish, "How sharper than a serpent's tooth it is to have a thankless child." The pity is not that you had deceitful, thankless daughters, but that you preferred them to one who told you the truth. Why did you insist on making tragedy inevitable?

     Tell us what you want from us, Church. Do you insist on being conned? Very well, we shall tell you what you have to hear. Only do not disinherit us, for we have no other place to go. We covet your favors. Forgive us and you will see that we can play the game as well as others. "You are essentially perfect, you have need of nothing, your competitors are reprobate. You understand the truth perfectly. You are essentially right and everyone else is essentially wrong." We will put it in a tract, if you like!

     Are you sure that's what you really want?