Simony "is the act of selling church offices and roles. The practice is named after Simon Magus who is described in the Acts of the Apostles as having offered two disciples of Jesus, Peter and John, payment in exchange for their empowering him to impart the power of the Holy Spirit to anyone on whom he would place hands." (Wikipedia.) In other words, he was a magician who wanted to learn how to work real miracles, since these might command a higher price, in the logic of the marketplace. Against this is the saying, roughly, "You can commit any sin and be forgiven, but the sin against the Holy Spirit cannot be forgiven." I take this to mean for my own use the following: When the moment of truth arrives, evade it as we will, by speaking in parables, we must offer ourselves to sacrifice, or the spirit will desert us; and also that if we blaspheme the Holy Spirit, and take the name of the holy or the wise or even beautiful in vain, the tongue will rot in our mouths, and whatever eloquence allowed us to lie well, will ebb away, as Milton's Satan ebbs from sublime at first in Hell, to little more than a worm.
Jesus also said, in various Gospels, some Apocryphal, as he walked by Trump Tower or some other then colossal image of Excellence, "Bring me the stone the builder's rejected. That is the cornerstone." I take this to mean that worldly power will collapse and the first shall be last, the last shall be first, and the meek will inherit. Among the meek are the children, women, the poor, the outcast, the sick, those imprisoned, those on the margins, those on the outside of whatever wall we build.
Cordelia cannot heave her heart into her mouth to enact rituals that enable those who are unwise or unjust. She will not bear false witness. When asked why she will not comply with the rituals of wealth and power, on whom her own well-being depends, she finally says, "Nothing." And is told that "nothing will come of nothing," and nothing does. She is disinherited, the King as deranged exemplar of the body politic goes mad, and not even a Fool, nor Cordelia, or Kent the Faithful Servant, nor healing music, can restore him for more than a moment to sanity or peace.
Many today say nothing in the precincts of wealth and power. Those are the wise ones. And I do not mean they are silent. One story, Lear, ends with bodies pulled from the stage. Another, more hopeful in a way, with the harrowing of hell. How do the wise today see this playing out in the precincts of Private Wealth? Should we ask them?