Exit, pursued by a bear.

In act 3 of Shakespeare's The Winter's Tale, a lord named Antigonus is tasked with the despicable job of leaving the newly born princess, Perdita, in the midst of the Bohemian woods. Believe it or not, this fate is actually preferable to the one she had before Antigonus and his wife, Paulina, intervened on her behalf; at first, her own father, the king of Sicilia, dictated that the infant should be burned alive.

Today, Jeff and I saw a touring production of the play by the American Shakespeare Center (ASC). I found myself so wrapped up in the emotional story that I nearly forgot that Shakespeare's most infamous stage direction would have to be played out at some point: Exit, pursued by a bear. While other productions have ranged from the comic (a teddy bear) to the mysterious (lighting and sound effects), ASC tackled the "problem" head on. As Antigonus laid Perdita on the ground in a basket, uttering the words, "Weep I cannot,  / But my heart bleeds," a bear entered from behind the upstage right curtain. Yes, it was an actor with a bear's head, but the impact was no less terrifying for that fact; I felt immediate concern for Perdita's safety and wished I, myself, could reach out and carry her home.

And then Antigonus did something I didn't expect. See, I don't like Antigonus very much. In spite of his earlier promise to "pawn the little blood which I have left / To save the innocent," he's all too willing to save his own skin by following Leontes's orders and leaving little Perdita alone at the mercy of the woods. Yet ASC's Antigonus did something shocking and totally unexpected: he saw the bear coming, quickly assessed Perdita's chances should the animal reach her, and boldly clapped his hands, drawing the bear's attention to himself. And then he exited, pursued by the bear that would take his life.

What a noble man! He sacrificed himself for the marginal chance at life for the sweet babe, yet he wouldn't break the oath he'd made to his king, no matter how disgusting he found that promise to be. In one moment, the Antigonus I'd hated became a man I admired, and he did so because he acted based on both instinct and loyalty, not on on intellectual consideration of his options.

Yesterday was Good Friday, when God made the greatest sacrifice imaginable for us: the life of his Son. Tomorrow, we'll celebrate the birth of new life in His resurrection. Like Perdita, who only survived because of Antigonus's sacrifice, I am only alive because a Sacrifice was made for my life.

I hope it doesn't take a bear for me to learn how to abandon my own needs and desires so selflessly.