DappledThings.org

A quarterly journal of ideas, art, and faith

Measure for Measure: Shakespeare’s Parable

Ken Lasnoski

With what measure you mete out, it shall be measured unto you (Mark 4: 24).

The tangled plot of Shakespeare’s comedy Measure for Measure might initially convince any audience that Shakespeare finds little of serious value in the Christian tradition. The Duke of Vienna leaves his troubled town in corrupt hands of his highest deputy, Angelo, and masquerades in a friar’s guise. Posing under this religious pretense, he encourages and orchestrates an act of fornication. Further, he deceives Isabella, making her think that her brother Claudio is dead. Finally, he brings the play to a comic conclusion using marriage and unilateral forgiveness in a manner that seems to signal a failure to bring justice to a town reeling with lax law enforcement and moral depravity. Why does the Duke knowingly submit Vienna to Angelo’s cold corruption? How can the Duke’s representation of religious authority be anything other than mockery if he sanctions and even causes immoral acts? How can an audience accept a comic ending brought about by such “dark deeds”—an ending that seems to unilaterally solve social ills by means of imposed marriage?1 [Read more…]

Sun-Staring

J.B. Toner

Too long on shades and darksome crouching things
 My gaze has dimly dwelt, concupiscent;
 Away from day clear-eyed my eyes have bent,
Towards twilit secrets' languid beckonings—
And now a shining anguish dayshine brings:
 And ever deeper into darkness sent,
 My toadstool heart is by my lustings pent
In spider-courts of pale and shadowed kings.
 But though I lack the grace to ask for grace,
 And wince to rise, and flinch to seek a hand—
   The Good, the True, the Beautiful, the One,
 At just one murmur's breath would show His Face,
 At one bare moment's prayer would help me stand,
   And lift my chin to stare into the sun.

What Thomas Saw

J.B. Toner

for J.R.R. Tolkien

Dark seas by night, a howling, weeping sky,
A morning’s mists upon the far dim strand;
Then faces, smiling faces, welcome hands,
Great saints and heroes of the world gone by,
Old friends, lost loves, all people dear and fair,
Then Mary—Mary, mother of us all—
Then nail-marked hands and lips once stained with gall,
Now smiling, smiling, up the crystal stair,
The Dove, the Dove, alight with joy and flame—
Then Him, Whose tears will wash away all wrong,
Whose word cries out to each of us by name,
Whose laughter makes us pure and wise and strong
To enter halls where sorrow never came,
And life itself—and life itself—is song.

Forgiveness Through the Eyes of the Soul

Tonita M. Helton

We know in faith that there is a supernatural realm, a world with demons and angels, evil and grace, a world that interacts with our own in an intimate and profound, yet unseen, way. We know that a battle rages in that world for the soul of each and every human being on Earth. And sometimes we see, in the most unexpected of moments, a rare glimpse of what happens in that world, of what lies beyond the veil that thinly separates our reality from the ultimate reality.

It happened when I was in my third year of law school. I had met and began dating a man we’ll call Jack. Jack was fairly good-looking, with blonde hair, blue eyes, and a generally handsome face. He was of above average intelligence, could be quite charming, and had a truly amazing voice when he sang, which he did perhaps too often. Jack was not the man I would have chosen for myself, however. He was not physically my “type,” but more critically, he was not a man of faith, and could be selfish, boorish, and materialistic. There was something beyond me at work, however, when I met him, and my spirit was moved deeply, in a way that it had not been before and in a manner that I did not recognize at the time. As a result, I quickly came to conclude—became quite convinced, in fact—that this was the man that God wished for me to marry. And, although not in the way I believed, Jack was indeed destined to change my life forever. [Read more…]

Sampagita

Cristina A. Montes

Delicate blossoms
fallen
dead,
littered
at the foot of the trellis.
Still in full bloom,
fresh,
unwithered.
The weight of raindrops
was too much for them.

Vox Dei

J.B. Toner

Creation is a soaring symphony,
 A euphony, polyphony, a hymn—
 The joyous thunders of the seraphim
Commingle with the murmurs of the trees,
The rising madrigals of morning birds,
 The choric song of rain upon the earth,
 The rushing tide crescendoing with mirth,
The howling wind that God's wild glee avers.
 Some days I stare into the sun at noon,
 And almost swear I see a merry grin;
   If only I could hear His voice, I think,
 Uplifted in some strange immortal tune,
 I might learn hope amidst my doubt and sin—
   But sometimes it's enough to see Him wink.

Waiting

Brandon Zimmerman

All that is left is the waiting
Not a waiting in the dark,
But a waiting in the light
    that things might be seen clearly
    that hopes might be considered wisely
    that feelings might be felt truly
          without deception
It is a waiting that seems a lot like living
Not living incomplete or unconsoled
But living well, to have an abundance
    to invite her into, to give unto her
    if the dramatis personae should alter
    and chance, and faith, and goodness conceive
          a happy denouement

House of Cypress

Mark De Cristo

On the peninsula there is a wild forest that has been allowed to stay as it is without new development. There are cypress trees that grow and crawl and expand out over the small hills that empty into the ocean. They lead right down into it. The trees look confused, mangled, and definitely not ordinary. I really appreciate them. I had driven a small black car through the windy roads in and out of their shadows. I thought some day I’d like to own a small plot of land by the ocean somewhere and plant a lot cypress trees. Is it true you have to be rich to buy land near the ocean? I don’t think so. I am a dreamer, so I am allowed to believe it. [Read more…]

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