First Witch When shall we three meet againThat fateful meeting on the heath plants the seed of a dark ambition: Macbeth is to be king of Scotland. He eagerly believes the witches' prophecy -- though not quite enough, it seems, to prevent him taking matters into his own hands. Spurred on by Lady M, he murders the visiting King Duncan as he sleeps, and frames his servants in the morning. Duncan's sons flee in fear, and Macbeth assumes the throne. And then, objective ostensibly gained, all manner of madness proceeds ... Macbeth, remembering the witches' other prediction that his friend Banquo would be father to a line of kings, is racked with anxiety at this threat to his position, and has Banquo killed -- but his young son Fleance, Macbeth's more fearsome rival according to the witches, escapes unharmed. Then follows ghosts, and sleepwalking, and hallucinations, and more murders, and the suicide of his wife ... and the witches put in another appearance, and Macbeth is reassured temporarily until his castle is apparently besieged by an unlikely but premonitory sylvanian army (the English attack under the camouflage of branches cut from trees in nearby Birnam Wood) ... and all -- his castle, kingdom, life, and head -- is lost.
In thunder, lightning, or in rain?
Second Witch When the hurlyburly's done,
When the battle's lost and won.
Third Witch That will be ere the set of sun.
First Witch Where the place?
Second Witch Upon the heath.
Third Witch There to meet with Macbeth. (Shakespeare, Macbeth, Act I, Scene I)
The second book of Kings relates a similar tragedy...
Now Elisha came to Damascus. Ben-hadad the king of Syria was sick. And when it was told him, “The man of God has come here,” the king said to Hazael, “Take a present with you and go to meet the man of God, and inquire of the Lord through him, saying, ‘Shall I recover from this sickness?’” So Hazael went to meet him, and took a present with him, all kinds of goods of Damascus, forty camels' loads. When he came and stood before him, he said, “Your son Ben-hadad king of Syria has sent me to you, saying, ‘Shall I recover from this sickness?’” And Elisha said to him, “Go, say to him, ‘You shall certainly recover,’ but the Lord has shown me that he shall certainly die.” And he fixed his gaze and stared at him, until he was embarrassed. And the man of God wept. And Hazael said, “Why does my lord weep?” He answered, “Because I know the evil that you will do to the people of Israel. You will set on fire their fortresses, and you will kill their young men with the sword and dash in pieces their little ones and rip open their pregnant women.” And Hazael said, “What is your servant, who is but a dog, that he should do this great thing?” Elisha answered, “The Lord has shown me that you are to be king over Syria.” Then he departed from Elisha and came to his master, who said to him, “What did Elisha say to you?” And he answered, “He told me that you would certainly recover.” But the next day he took the bed cloth and dipped it in water and spread it over his face, till he died. And Hazael became king in his place. (2 Kings 8:7-15)Was it Elisha's words which, like the witches' to Macbeth, planted the idea of regicide? Or was murder already in Hazael's heart when his kingship was foretold; was Elisha's sadness, and his blunt-spokenness, an exhortation to reconsider? And what would have happened if Hazael (or Macbeth, for that matter) had allowed events to run their course -- would the pre-indicated outcomes still have come to pass, in other, possibly less violent, crooked ways?
The stories of Hazael and Macbeth raise unsettling and intriguing questions about the impact of foreknowledge and the idea of fixed fate. To me, though, the poignancy of both is in the dramatic irony: the audience can see the plots unfolding, they can see that the protagonists still have a choice. At no point do they have to take the murderous actions that they choose. That is precisely the tragedy -- that the death and violence which ensue are entirely the product of their choices.
According to the gospel accounts, Jesus' earthly life was also attended by a supernaturally-imparted expectation of greatness...
In the sixth month the angel Gabriel was sent from God to a city of Galilee named Nazareth, to a virgin betrothed to a man whose name was Joseph, of the house of David. And the virgin's name was Mary. And he came to her and said, “Greetings, O favored one, the Lord is with you!” But she was greatly troubled at the saying, and tried to discern what sort of greeting this might be. And the angel said to her, “Do not be afraid, Mary, for you have found favor with God. And behold, you will conceive in your womb and bear a son, and you shall call his name Jesus. He will be great and will be called the Son of the Most High. And the Lord God will give to him the throne of his father David, and he will reign over the house of Jacob forever, and of his kingdom there will be no end.” (Luke 1:26-33)And, by the same accounts, he certainly had the power to grasp that greatness -- to seize for himself a kingdom. (I wrote about this a few weeks ago, although Mr. W said I took too long to get to the point, so you might want to start halfway down). But he is uncompromising in surrender to his Father's saving plan, which for him means a humble life of service and the pain and separation of the cross. In chapter 4, Luke describes an exchange (of some sort) with the devil, who is intent on persuading Jesus to depart the agonising course before him and short-cut to a position of supremacy -- either by using his powers for personal gain and celebrity, or by allying himself with the devil in exchange for something of his influence in the world. These temptations, I believe, were very real -- by embracing the devil's advice, Jesus could have attained unheard of worldly status and authority. And who's to say what 'good' he might not have achieved from such a position -- what justice, healing, provision and righteousness for his subjects? But still it would have paled into complete insignificance next to the world-redeeming kingdom God had in mind, and Jesus understood that this radically different throne was secured by radically different means. Rejecting the easy glory on offer, he carries his resolve throughout his earthly ministry to the crucial moment; awaiting imminent betrayal and arrest on the Mount of Olives, he prays -- "Father, if you are willing, remove this cup from me. Nevertheless, not my will, but yours, be done" (Luke 22:42).
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