Does Aslan Choose Only the Pevensies?

Our last post ended with a couple of questions attempting to understand the connection between Aslan and Jesus. Specifically, if Aslan's goal was to sensitize the Pevensies towards recognizing Jesus in our world, why not just come out and say so? Why the coyness? A related question is why were only the Pevensie children given this head start in recognizing God - why not others as well? 

The answer to our first question is already addressed by Lewis in The Screwtape Letters. In the eighth letter, Screwtape sets out the balance with which God approaches humans: 

He cannot ravish. He can only woo. For His ignoble idea is to eat the cake and have it; the creatures are to be one with Him, but yet themselves; merely to cancel them, or assimilate them, will not serve. He is prepared to do a little overriding at the beginning...

Aslan's goal is to keep this balance, making his presence known to the Pevensies in Narnia, but not sharing the same intimacy with them, or even revealing his name, in their own world. 

How far is God willing to go in overriding human will?

Well, maybe that depends on the person. I think, and perhaps Lewis would agree, that God makes overtures to every human. How far God then goes, depends on how each individual responds to His initial overtures. The Pevensies were no different than anyone else. However, Aslan reveals himself almost completely to the Pevensies because the Pevensies, and specifically Lucy, desire his revelation.  

As we remember, it was Lucy who first entered the Wardrobe and "discovered" the world of Narnia. Upon noticing she was out of the Wardrobe and into somewhere else she could have turned around and gone back. But, instead, she displayed a sense of curiosity and a willingness to "suspend disbelief" two childlike characteristics that Lewis praises and are fundamental to forming a relationship with God. And, in fact, she maintains "a devotion to experiences" even in the face of doubt and taunting. 

Lucy's siblings, however, are less keen on entering Narnia. Edmund, of course, is swayed by evil so has a desire to make the best of Narnia when he enters. But Peter and Susan at least consider the possibility of leaving everything behind once they discover Tumnus' home is wrecked. And, thus, again we have a moment of truth. Peter and Susan choose to stay and help instead of going home and thus set themselves up for their first direct revelation of Aslan.

And so it goes, at every step the Pevensies could have made the wrong decision and would not have formed as close of a relationship with Aslan. However, they went all the way, and were finally told that their time in Narnia was up, and further relationships with God must take place in their own world.

The Pevensies were given no more of a head start in forming a relationship with God than anyone else. And while it may seem that way, that is only so because they, and specifically Lucy, heard or felt God's overtures made the right decisions at the right times. 

As for the rest of us, perhaps we have missed overtures in our own life. Or maybe we heard them but failed to follow because we were scared or lazy. Maybe we heard God's knock but struggled to get out of bed to answer the door or maybe we were too busy with our smartphones to even hear the knock. Either way, there is no reason to despair (I hope). God continues to send out overtures, He keeps knocking, and that's how we can keep going into adulthood. 

We'll start with Lucy... 

Had the Pevensie Children Lived

One of the apparent challenges in Lewis literary oeuvre is the quick passing of the best characters. Wormwood's patient is killed by the London blitzkrieg soon after converting, Ransom remains on Earth for a while after visiting Malacandra and Peralandra, but not very long, and, of course, the Pevensies never reach their mid-twenties. While understandable, books must be limited in length, and series cannot have an overwhelming number of entries, it does relieve Lewis from addressing head on certain issues. These issues are succinctly formulated by Screwtape: 

The long, dull monotonous years of middle-aged prosperity or middle-aged adversity are excellent campaigning weather. You see, it is so hard for these creatures to persevere. The routine of adversity, the gradual decay of youthful loves and youthful hopes, the quiet despair (hardly felt as pain) of ever overcoming the chronic temptations with which we have again and again defeated them, the drabness which we create in their lives and the inarticulate resentment with which we teach them to respond to it — all this provides admirable opportunities of wearing out a soul by attrition. (Letter 28)

We have discussed the spiritual failings of Susan, but can we be so sure that the others would have remained spiritually secure. And, if they did, how did they? 

Of course, we know that Lucy is told by Alsan that the reason he brought the Pevensies to Narnia was so that they could recognize Aslan in their own world, though he goes by a different name. This would suggest that they are charged with finding Jesus and becoming good Christians. However, this just raises other questions. Why did Aslan choose the Pevensie children and no one else? Why do we see so little direct Christian expression in Narnia? Why does Aslan not come out and say his name?

Let's discuss... 

The Abdication of Queen Susan (Part 4)

Can Queen Susan ever be reclaimed for Narnia?

Lewis has said as much in his Collected Letters, and I am honestly not sure why anyone would even think otherwise. Lewis himself did not convert until he was in his 30s and made the statement of not being ashamed of reading fairytales when he was 50. So why should anyone give up on the 21-year-old Susan? 

Unfortunately, she has now be struck with a horrific tragedy, losing her parents and siblings suddenly and all at once and it would be quite wrong to judge someone else on how might react to such a terrible fate. Nonetheless, there is plenty of time. And, hopefully, she can survive the terrible blow against her and mature into a reflective and more profound adult. 

And, despite Lewis' unwillingness to commit to Susan's eventual repentance, I think he's rooting for her and believes she will make it. I've mentioned this before in our discussion of Susan's horn, but let's expand of that a bit.

In The Lion and Witch and the Wardrobe, Peter, Susan, and Lucy, receive presents from Father Christmas which, we are later told, "they valued more than their whole kingdom." Susan received a bow, a quiver full of arrows, and an ivory horn. The Chronicles record two times that the horn was blown (once by Susan, once by Caspian) and at the end of Prince Caspian there are two things to note. First, Caspian offers the horn back to Susan, but Susan tells him to keep it. Second, as Susan leaves Narnia for the last time she is cheered as Queen Susan of the Horn. Finally, in The Voyage of the Dawn Treader we are told that Queen Susan's horn was left with the Regent Trumpkin in case of great need. And that is the last we hear of it. 

What happened to Susan's horn? Why was it not blown by Tirian in the Last Battle? Surely such a treasure should have been carefully guarded by Caspian's heirs. I'm not sure I can answer those questions but let's try another one.  

Why was Susan called Queen Susan of the Horn? There's no reason to think she blew it more than once. Presumably the answer is because she always had the horn at her side. In fact, she was the only one who had her gift with her the day they went hunting the White Stag and ended up back in England. Lucy did not have her cordial, Peter did not have his sword, but Susan had her horn. Susan trusted the horn and with it she always had the ability to call out for help.

But Susan is called Queen Susan of the Horn even as she gives the horn to Caspian. For she, and the Narnians, know that the horn is only an external manifestation of something more fundamental: the ability to call out to God and ask for salvation. Queen Susan no longer needs the horn, for she has now internalized its abilities. 

The 21-year-old Susan is no longer inspired by Narnia. She has lost her spiritual way. She believes she has life figured out. How many of us felt the same in our early twenties, absolutely sure that we have all the answers and a clear path towards a bright future? But her life has now changed drastically, and she will quickly learn what (hopefully) all of us do as we grow older, that we are not as smart as we thought, and that life is not that easy. 

And with that, the horn within Susan will blow and bring her back to Narnia. 

The Laws of Undulation (Part 2)

We will get back to Susan, but a little more thought on the Laws of Undulation...

Last time we saw two different formulations of undulation in the relationship between man and God. Lewis' formulation starts by acknowledging that humans - who are amphibians between spiritual and physical and live in time, cannot remain consistent in their relationship with God. Thus, a human's interest in work, friends, and, presumably God, will wax and wane. As Lewis puts it, "the repeated return to a level from which they repeatedly fall back, a series of troughs and peaks."

A priori, this behavior sounds similar to that of a pendulum in which first the physical side is dominant and then the spiritual in a never-ending, uncontrollable cycle. However, that is not quite accurate. First, Lewis notes the importance of the troughs for spiritual growth and that at times God purposely withdraws His presence. In fact, some of God's favorites experience long and deep troughs. This suggests that it is not (and least not only) human nature that causes undulation, but that God Himself may insert control. Perhaps, and likely, human also have some control. Can a person make themselves stay towards the physical without ever approaching the spiritual? 

Second, a pendulum has a limit on both ends and while it is likely that the physicality of humans will force a limit on spiritual attainment, is the other way true as well? Can a human ever become purely physical such that his or her spiritual element is completely deadened? The same challenge must be addressed by R' Soloveichik's undulation as well. Finite humanity cannot, as it were, consummate love with the Divine. But can humanity be completely swallowed by awe and fear such that they will never experience love? Or will love of God eventually assert itself and force a swing towards the other direction?  

I think Lewis somewhat addresses this question in his book Till We Have Faces. For those not familiar with that work (and who have not read our previous comments on it) Queen Orual of Glome hates the gods who she believes have stolen from her the love of her sister, Psyche. In fact, Orual's love for Psyche was doomed from Orual's refusal to recognize the gods and bring them into her relationship (thus dooming the relationship as described by Lewis in The Four Loves). Orual decides that the best way of ignoring her grief is to kill her true self, her personality and persona and thus escape the gods. And, for most of her life, it works. She spends her time transforming herself into royalty and concentrating on her royal duties. But it does not last. Eventually the gods force her to confront herself and the spiritual side of her that she has so long sought to avoid returns in full force. 

The Laws of Undulation (Part 1)

Humans are amphibians — half spirit and half animal... This means that while their spirit can be directed to an eternal object, their bodies, passions, and imaginations are in continual change, for to be in time means to change. Their nearest approach to constancy, therefore, is undulation — the repeated return to a level from which they repeatedly fall back, a series of troughs and peaks. (The Screwtape Letters, Letter 8)

Lewis' Law of Undulation attempts to explain the changing attitude towards and desire for that which is eternal and holy. Humans are amphibious. Hence, their spiritual half is continuously desirable of God and constantly reaches towards spiritual heights. However, their animal half pulls the other way, seeking the gratification and pleasure of the physical causing the dryness and numbness towards the spiritual. It is difficult (impossible?) for humans to ignore one of the other, or even come to a constant medium between the two. Rather, a given human's attitude towards the spiritual will oscillate in a series of troughs and peaks. 

Lewis (as Screwtape) goes on to explain that the troughs, when a human does not perceive or even particularly desire God, is not an unfortunate corollary of humans. Actually, they are key in God's plan. God wants humans act independently, and to love Him and cling to Him on their own volition, even when His presence seems to have disappeared. Again, quoting Screwtape:

Our cause is never more in danger, than when a human, no longer desiring, but intending, to do our Enemy's will, looks round upon a universe from which every trace of Him seems to have vanished, and asks why he has been forsaken, and still obeys.

In Lewis' Law of Undulation the pendulum swings between perceiving God in our lives, experiencing His presence, on the one hand, and not seeing Him, feeling forsaken on the other.  

R' Soloveitchik also formulates a Law of Undulation but one that relies on differently formulated extremum. As explained by R' Goldmintz:

On the one hand man craves to be close to Him and so he approaches God "at a rapid pace, where all his being, beset by the torment of fiery longing, is tensed toward the encounter with his divine lover." But precisely at the moment when he is so close to unification with God, he stops, indeed retreats, for he is filled with a sense of awe so great that coming close seems inconceivable. "He runs toward God but also recoils from Him, He runs toward God, for how can man distance himself from God and live?" But he then retreats from God, for how can man attach himself to God and live? Man is hurled back and forth "by the two colossal forces of love and awe" and this pendulum-like movement, rather than resulting in frustration or defeat, "embodies the most magnificent worship of God." (The Rav of Tefillah)

The pendulum swings between love of God and fear of God. On one extreme God is right in front of man ready to embrace, on the other God is concealed in His Heavenly abode, for the transcendent distance between the Infinite and finite cannot be bridged. It is not the animalistic side of man that drags him away from God, but the closeness itself forces man to reckon with his own physicality and finitude. 

We will compare and contrast these two Laws of Undulation in a later post. 

The Abdication of Queen Susan (Part 3)

Quick note: I updated Part 2 on February 11 so you should read the updated version before reading this. 

Building off of our last post, we are trying to understand why Lewis is unhappy with Susan striving to reach, and then freeze at, the age of about 21. Most likely the reason is already found in Lewis' first words about Narnia, the dedication to his goddaughter.

I wrote this story for you, but when I began it, I had not realized that girls grow quicker than books. As a result, you are already too old for fairy tales, and by the time it is printed and bound you will be older still. But some day you will be old enough to start reading fairy tales again.

Here, Lewis makes the point that people at a certain age are (hopefully, temporarily) not interested in fairytales. What the consequences are for not reading fairytales is not stated, but we have some further evidence elsewhere in his writings:

When I was ten, I read fairy tales in secret and would have been ashamed if I had been found doing so. Now that I am fifty, I read them openly. When I became a man I put away childish things, including the fear of childishness and the desire to be very grown up.

OK, so here Lewis hints at the maturation of people. Humans are born as babies and become children. While sometimes children may be difficult to deal with, they are generally blessed with certain very positive characteristics. As discussed here, Lewis includes in that list simplicity, single-mindedness, affection, and teachable. R' Soloveitchik recognized similar characteristics including: simplicity, fiery enthusiasm, ingenuousness, gracefulness, tremors of fear, and devotion to their vivid experiences.

As humans mature, they tend to look down on their previous lack of maturity. However, doing so may include a dismissal of some of these very positive traits in an effort to prove to themselves and others that they are really "grown up." It is only the truly grown up who can reclaim the positive aspects of childhood. This process is almost Hegelian, the thesis of childhood, the antithesis expressed by those wanting to feel and be thought of as grown up, and, finally, the synthesis of the truly mature. 

There are of course, the rare few, like Lucy, who can keep the positive characteristics of children through the maturation process. But the rest of us may spend quite some time acting childish in our fear of being seen as children. There are also humans (in our times perhaps too many humans) who relinquish all aspects of childhood and never recover its positive aspects. Even worse, some do not even see the point in trying to recover those traits. This is (at the end of the Chronicles of Narnia) the current lot of Susan.

One characteristic noted by R' Soloveitchik stands out: a child's vivid experiences and their devotion to them. This is exactly Susan's failure. She, with her siblings, went through the most vivid of experiences when they were young. They were teleported to another world, set on a great quest, were victorious through bravery, kindness, and faith and were rewarded by royal crowns. 

Lucy and her brothers remained devoted to those experiences even as growing older. 

Susan dismissed her childhood as playing games.   

The Abdication of Queen Susan (Part 2)

In our last post we saw that, at the end of the Chronicles, Queen Susan was no longer a friend of Narnia. A priori, this means she stopped believing that her Narnian experience was real, instead coming to the belief that the adventures were simply games played as a child. We noted that in fact the situation was much worse. It is not simply that Susan denies the "historical" occurrence of the children's time in Narnia, but she exclaims, "Fancy your still thinking about all those funny games we used to play when we were children." Even if the visits to Narnia were not true, Susan could think about them, learn from, be guided by, and be inspired by the "fairytales" of her childhood. But she does not. 

All of us on this blog think of Narnia a great deal. Yet, none of us, I presume, have been to Narnia (though if you have been please let me know). In fact, I would suppose none of us even believe that there is or ever was such a place as Narnia. And, yet WE are inspired by Narnia, while Susan who was actually part of the fairytales is not. 

This is Susan's greatest fault. Not denying the existence of Narnia, but not being inspired by Narnia, not letting herself see the truths of our world through her experiences in Narnia. Not finding Aslan "by another name" in our world. Or perhaps we can say, paraphrasing Lewis' dedication of The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe," Susan's chief fault is not growing old enough to read fairytales again."

This takes us to the end of the exchange about Susan, at which point the Lady Polly declares, "Her whole idea is to race on to the silliest time of one's life as quick as she can and then stop there as long as she can."

What is the silliest time of one's life? Well, based on Polly's words (which we assume Lewis agreed with) it's clearly not childhood, because you have to get there. It must be somewhere around where Susan is in The Last Battle, which is about 21. Why that time? 

Interestingly, the Talmud (Kiddushin 30a) homes in on that same time period. As explained by (the second interpretation) of Rashi, the Talmud explores what is the time for parents to go full throttle on providing a child with ethical and moral teachings to include a system of reward and punishment. There are two opinions offered: from 16 - 22 or from 18 - 24. Rashi explains that younger than this a child is not ready to understand, and older the child may simply ignore, or even rebel against, the parents. Susan is right in the middle. 

I don't think Lewis is thinking along these lines. Nevertheless, I think the Talmud's perspective does weave its way into the story. Namely, I think we do see some failure in the Pevensie parents with respect to Susan. 

At the start of The Voyage of the Dawn Treader, Susan, though only 14 at the time, is described as, "Grown-ups thought her the pretty one of the family and she was no good at schoolwork (though otherwise very old for her age)..." That doesn't sound like a very good prognosis, and yet the Pevensie parents seem to think that's a good reason to take Susan to America. I don't quite understand that line of thinking. It seems to me she would be better off enrolled in tutoring over the summer.   

Still, I don't think that Lewis is looking at this age range from the Talmud's perspective. Rather, Lewis believes that Susan's age is lacking something fundamental that is found both in children and more mature adults. 

More on that in our next...