The Withholding
AUTHOR’S NOTE: I’ve always had reservations about the prevailing opinion of the Waite-Smith 6 of Pentacles that advocates “charity and generosity” as its core premise since I believe this is social commentary that Smith grafted onto Waite’s basic divinatory meanings of “gifts, presents and gratification,” objective ideas that make no moral argument (although he does bring that up in his overview of Smith’s imagery, in what looks like a post facto — dare I say “tail-wagging-the-dog?” — explanation). I’ve asked myself “Why isn’t the simple fact of “Material Success” as envisioned by the Golden Dawn sufficient in that it sustains and comforts us? Why do we automatically feel that we must share our abundance in order to convince ourselves we are worthy of it? Certainly Waite’s esoteric roots made no nod in that direction, so it can only be Smith’s contribution coupled with Waite’s Christian sensibilities. (Full disclosure: I owe quite a lot to Isabel Kliegman for inspiring this essay.)
When we interpret the tarot cards we are avidly seeking insights regarding the subject of the reading with the goal of shedding as much light as possible on the matter for the querent’s benefit. But in contemplating the RWS 6 of Pentacles, I began wondering what isn’t being revealed about the overt act of sharing wealth, and how that notion of “holding back” might be imposed on all of the Minor Arcana. We can see plainly what we think they’re saying, but what is it that they’re not openly divulging? This potential is present in the “two sides to every story” adage that comes up every time we must judge the significance of a card that is primarily positive or negative in a spread position that doesn’t align with its nature. The conventional wisdom is that each card embodies within its scope all conceivable shades of gray between the black-and-white extremes of “good and bad,” but we must still decide where the emphasis falls in the scenario we are examining. We can obviously use reversal to suggest hidden knowledge that we have to dig out, but I think there is a way that is more integral to the inherent qualities of each card. It comes down to a finely-tuned analysis of the images, which we could argue have taken on “a life of their own” beyond what was originally intended by their creators.
My first thought on seeing the RWS 6 of Pentacles is: That isn’t really a wealthy merchant (or someone “in the guise of a merchant”) as Waite surmises, freely dispensing money out of a kindly “goodness of heart.” (Besides, what’s he doing flaunting his purse in the “Beggar’s Quarter” without an armed bodyguard? Any reader of epic fantasy knows that’s a bad idea.) If he’s not in fact an entrepreneur estimating his tax write-off, the scale gives him away as a government bureaucrat distributing public welfare; it is a central feature of this card, implying a “due diligence” that ensures none of the supplicants gets more or less than their due. We should also note that only four coins are falling into the mendicant’s waiting hands, the other two are still lodged firmly in the giver’s palm as he meters out the rest. The idea of weights-and-measures is antithetical to that of unconditional, open-handed generosity that would imply a bountiful outpouring rather than a measured flow. There is no love in it, mostly just expedience. Something is being held back in the interest of prudent management, an underlying theme of the conservative suit of Earth.
My second impression is: What is the status of the two beggars? A hint is given by the fact that the layout of the six pentacles is not balanced as one might expect of a number that is associated with “harmony and equilibrium.” It is overloaded on the side of the person who is presently receiving the coins, and the scale is also slightly tilted in that direction. Unlike the bareheaded man in the patched cloak, this individual is already well-off enough to own a cap and what appears to be a lined mantle, so why is he or she receiving preferential treatment when we might reasonably suppose that it would go first to the more needy of the two? Is the other vagabond being intentionally “frozen out” in a display of favoritism? Has he somehow earned his disenfranchisement?
It seems clear from his pleading gesture that the second beggar has yet to receive his pittance or he would already have shuffled off to buy a bottle of cheap wine. There is a concealed sense of inequity and injustice in this card that belies its origin in the concept of “Material Success.” There is a calculated, utilitarian purposefulness to it that has been largely missed by the folkloric assumptions that have grown up around it in the annals of popular divination. On the face of it we might well be pleased that the impoverished people are being nurtured, but another perspective is that they are slaves to a system that cares more about the mechanics of distribution than about their well-being. (That scale looms ever larger in the picture, implying a draconian social order that keeps its lower classes in their proper place; there is no plan to elevate them to an equal status unless they make a reasonable effort.)
There is another off-hand definition buried in Waite’s guidance for this card that merits some discussion: “now is the accepted time.” In her book Tarot and the Tree of Life, Isabel Kliegman observes that a gift, to be truly valuable, must be be acknowledged by the recipient as something they need at that particular moment. There is no benefit in offering them an apparent boon for which they have no foreseeable use just because it makes us feel good to do so. In that sense it may be justifiable (there’s that scale again) to give a beggar only enough coin to “keep body and soul together” (call it “tough love”) rather than encourage indolence (or worse) by supplying an excess. (The cautious giver in the RWS vignette seems to know this very well.) Modern culture has twisted this idea almost beyond recognition, especially at a time when so many entry-level jobs are going unfilled. I’m reminded of the curbside panhandler with the sign reading “Hungry, No Money for Food.” If I hand them a can of beans they throw it away in disgust; what they’re really after is drug-money. I’m not saying that giving a destitute person enough cash to buy both that cheap bottle of wine and a Big Mac is unconscionable, just that the “terms of acceptance” may be different in their eyes than in ours.
Many of the Minor Arcana lend themselves to this kind of rational deconstruction. The 7 of Swords and the 9 of Pentacles come readily to mind, as does that long-time favorite of the “folklore-slingers,” the 3 of Swords. All of the “small” cards offer layers of meaning that can be peeled back like an onion to produce subtleties of interpretation that may not occur to those who take the cards at face value. I’ve explored all of them in my past “Tarot 101” posts on this blog.
Originally published at http://parsifalswheeldivination.wordpress.com on April 25, 2023.
