Torah Ideals

Seeking direction in a misdirected world

Shylock in Jerusalem

Shylock in Jerusalem

By Rabbi Yonason Goldson

 

            There are no accidents in Shakespeare.

            Hardly a week passed without Professor Levin impressing upon us yet again this paramount lesson, and no one passed Professor Levin’s class without learning it well.  So learn it well I did, but with no inkling of how its echo would reverberate beyond Shakespeare’s era by thousands of years, and beyond Shakespeare’s England by thousands of miles.

            Levin was cheery, almost sprightly (in spite of his erudition), a short, energetic, New York Jew who amicably prodded us to challenge him on every point, then mercilessly undercut our arguments whenever we contested him.  So effortlessly did he draw from the Complete Annotated Works of William Shakespeare in defending his assertions that no one dared attack him without the most thorough consideration, not even the cockiest among us.

            That was me, by the way, a headstrong senior at the University of California, Davis.  Having recently returned from half a year circumnavigating the globe, I had gained just enough sophistication to cringe at the cultural shortcomings of my fellow undergraduates, if not quite enough to recognize my own; by my reckoning I had out-paced them all, and I fancied myself nearly an English professor in my own right, momentarily denied the recognition I deserved by the patriarchal myopia of those higher up in the ivory tower.  Graduate school would rectify that soon enough.  But since I had failed to decide upon a major until almost the beginning of my junior year, I had not yet adequately distinguished myself within my department to claim but a single faculty recommendation.

            With this deficiency in mind, my advisor had suggested that I take Levin’s course in Shakespeare, and that I present myself to the professor at the start of the term, declaring my intention of impressing him with my scholarship so that he might write me a recommendation when I applied to grad school.  In retrospect, it’s hard to imagine how any advisor could offer such absurd advice, although it struck me as eminently reasonable at the time.

            “You’re an English major, I suppose?”  Professor Levin asked at our first meeting.  I nodded.  Non-majors took Shakespeare for Non-Majors.  “And what are your plans after graduation?”

            “Graduate school,” I replied.  Then, matter-of-factly, I added:  “I’m still short a recommendation, so I’m planning to do quite well in your class this term.”

            He laughed condescendingly, but was impressively gracious considering the audacity of my remark.  I went on to outline my idea for a paper on Romeo and Juliet.  He replied that I should write on the Merchant of Venice instead, then hurried me out of his office.

 

…to be continued.

3 Comments »

  1. I started reading your article, out of curiosity, and I just couldn’t stop. I find it ironic that, just as Shakespeare taught you how to think and to go beyond the “pshat” of the words themselves, you have taught me to think and reason through Torah, which has become the lens through which I view the secular, “Shakespearian” world. I was truly debating-am currently debating-whether I should actually submit this comment or not. The chutzpah of a student to think s/he can casually “chat” and argue with someone who has taught her so much about life! But there is something about this article that really resonates with me, perhaps because of my love for looking for hidden meanings in things, perhaps because of the long journey you have made to Torah, one which I have taken for granted. If someone were to ask me what I learned in high school,I would tell them I learned how to think. I learned how to turn a critical eye on the world. I learned not to simply accept theories as fact, but to be willing to reason, and possibly dismiss. I learned to take what I was being taught and bring it with me into the world, so it would influence my actions everyday even when I was not in school. What does this have to do with anything? Because learning of this sort can only happen, I believe, through example. When a teacher loves to learn, he/she infuses the students with the same love, and when a teacher believes-no, LIVES, what he/she teaches, somehow it becomes a part of the students’ lives as well. I really and truly appreciate everything you have taught me both by instruction and example. And to think-I owe it all to Shakespeare!

    Comment by A Student | September 9, 2008

  2. Thank you for your lovely note. No chutzpah. But you don’t owe it “all” to Shakespeare. Many people and events led you to where you are. I’m gratified I could play a part.

    Comment by torahideals | September 9, 2008

  3. Interesting take on Merchant of V. I read it in Yeshiva (high school), though it wasn’t in the curriculum. My impression was exactly yours – not only was WS not engaging in vicious anti-Semitism, he was portraying the injustices Jews suffered under Christians back then.

    Yiyasher Kochacha.

    Comment by David Rosenbaum | July 22, 2009


Leave a comment