It somehow seems right to read Shakespeare's Richard III during Lent. To be honest, though, Lent is not the original reason I plunged into the Bard's story of the despotic king. The real reason is more circumstantial.
During May, I will be in residence at Leicester, England, and presenting at a conference at the Cathedral. It so happens that Richard III is buried there, or I should say re-buried. After the hated king fell in battle, he was buried in an unmarked grave in the Greyfriars monastery cemetery. Centuries passed and with the monastery in ruins excavators uncovered Richard's burial site. It was distinct because of the twisted skeleton and signs of royalty in the burial. In any case, after a long examination by the anthropology department of the University of Leicester, Richard was tucked into a new burial at the cathedral with the kind of pomp only the English can provide to a past monarch. The king finally found his way home.
The reputation of Richard III, though, is a sorted one. "Now is the winter of our discontent ..." Any Shakespearian actor worth his salt has at least tried on Richard for size. Of the hundreds of portrayals, one of my favorites is offered by Ralph Fiennes. There is something haunting about the actor who so convincingly played Voldemort in Harry Potter also playing Richard. They are parallel in many ways:
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=v6ji07tsI2M
But Richard III really does belong in Lent. During this season we often gaze upon our broken and distorted human nature, the impulses, drives and false narratives that bring harm, destruction and ruin. For 99% of us Richard III is a gross exaggeration of vain glory, malice, lack of conscience, slander, betrayal, hypocrisy and murder. But he does bring the lust for power fueled by a gigantic inferiority complex into clear focus.
Shakespeare makes certain that we know, in the end, what the fruits of such corruption actually are: Richard dies hated, alone and tormented by the ghosts of all he violated. Our lives may not fall out that dramatically - or they may in certain ways - but we do know what it means to experience estrangement, brokenness and loneliness. We know how much of our dilemmas are self-created.
Deep in the most empathetic place in our hearts we may pity the monster king. He is twisted physically, emotionally and spiritually. As we look into the dark glass of his soul we know that he was born a cheated man, unfairness written over every square inch of his body. And there is no making up for this, even by becoming a bully villain, his ultimate revenge on a life he cannot change.
The reason that Richard III lives on from generation to generation is that its story and characters are universal, no matter their particular situation in time and place. And like the Gospels human nature is put on display, writ large, so that we can't miss it even if we would like to.
