In large part, The Play of the Sacrament offers the form of
play as an interesting medium to re-enact the death and resurrection of Christ.
With Jonathas the Jew as the ring leader of the perpetrators who desecrate the
host, the play considers the boundaries erected by society to be irrelevant in
the presence of Christ. This
boundary between symbol and reality is further broken down when the host, which
is meant to be a symbol of Christ’s body, literally bleeds when it’s boiled and
roasted. Even when they boil the host, in hopes that this will prove the
absence of Christ, instead it sticks to the hand: “Out, out, it werketh me
wrake!/ I may not avoid it owt of my hond!/ I wille goo drenche me in a lake.” Sarah
Beckwith’s article introduces interesting historical context with which to
consider this act of boiling the host. “Jews, in the fantasy of some
Christians, boiled communion wafers in oil and water and stole and bought hosts
to desecrate and profane the body of Christ. The bleeding host shrines of the late
Middle Ages, which ‘usually had their basis in miracles involving host s which
began to bleed’, were often claimed to be the site of ‘a claimed act of
profanation or ritual murder by members of Jewish communities.” Here the
bleeding of the host is depicted as both a miracle and a murder. The boundary
separating life and death, one Christ crossed when he resurrected.
This trend of defying boundaries continues until the end of
the play when the narrator at the end of the play finally addresses Jonathas the
Jew as “Ser Jonathas” as if to address a certain transcendence between his
former self and his newfound Christian faith.
Jonathas lead his men as they put Christ to a new Passion
and despite the atrocities of their torturous acts are referred to as a Passion.
According Beckwith, “the work of the play is to convert all its outsiders to
insiders” and seamlessly does so.
With “Passion” as a symbol for the torture of the host and the reborn
Jonathas into an almost priestly figure, it’s as if the stolen host could never
be stolen because to do so is to remove it from where it ‘s meant to be, in the
hands of those who truly believe in the miracles of Christ.
The nature of Christ is to reveal the truth to those who
doubt because these are the only instances in which we make contact with
Christ. Christ’s second miracle is to heal the deformed hand of Jonathas. The
dismembered hand was a physical symbol of the Jew’s sin and Christ healed him.
Do these boundaries depicted serve us in our understanding
of the nature of sign and symbol? How does it connect with this idea of the Jew
as an archetypal outsider?
The value of conversion is something that particularly interested me in the Croxton Play. It is the ultimate end of the play to establish the truth of transubstantiation, to assuage the doubts of believers, and also to convert nonbelievers to believers (to turn Jews into Christians, as occurs in the action of the play itself). But the question which stuck in my mind was how the complete arc of conversion is valuated in relation to the desecration of the host. It may be valuable to consider Aristorye as a Judas-figure, because Judas has a similar problem of sums - something doesn't add up.
ReplyDeleteWhen Judas betrays Christ, Christ has already asserted that one of his disciples will betray him. And we know that Judas is in fact enabling Christ's Passion, and through it, the conversion and salvation of all mankind. But Judas is still punished; Dante puts him in the lowest level of hell, ground between Satan's teeth until the end of time. Aristorye is in a similar position. We understand that although he is motivated by greed, Aristorye seems to be a true believer in the Christian faith - he ostensibly knows, understands, and believes in the truth of transubstantiation as well. His actions are reprehensible, and motivated by greed, but he also enables the conversion and salvation of his Jews neighbors (and his larger community). He is also punished, by being stripped of his livelihood - a symbolic death, a stripping-away of his privilege and ability to cross social and cultural boundaries.
The implications of this which I'm trying to sort out regard the value of conversion. Do the ends justify the means? It may be a weird question to ask, but for the medieval audience, is it worth desecrating the sacrament for the salvation of Jews? Are they supposed to believe that it is, or that it isn't? Where does the value of the sacred intersect with the value of the human soul?