The Day of Sounding the Horn

The Jewish New Year starts Wednesday evening. It is the day on which the shofar, the ram's horn, is sounded. Our Sages have forwarded numerous functions and symbolisms with respect to the shofar: it is used to coronate God as king as he comes down in judgment, it serves as a prayer without words, it is an awakening to repentance, and so on. 

I think we can also perceive the shofar in the way we viewed the horns of Narnia. It is a call to come home. It has been a difficult year for the Jewish People. We pray for victory and peace so that our sons and daughters on the front lines can come home. And we pray that Jews all over the world will come home. Maybe that means moving to or visiting Israel. Maybe it means taking the time to attend services or Torah classes more frequently. May it just means incorporating more of Judaism into people's lives. Whatever steps someone can take - it's time to come home.  

May we all be inscribed and sealed in the Book of Life, wishing everyone a safe, prosperous, and sweet New Year. 

Those who come so far...

In our last post we raised several questions with respect to Aslan's Table. Specifically, we wondered why is sailing east a worthwhile endeavor that it should be rewarded? 

I think there are a number of ways to address this question:

1) In the physical world there are some places that are holier than others. This is true on numerous levels in numerous religions. In the Hebrew Bible there is the place that God will choose to establish His name (Deuteronomy 26:2) invoked in various forms which is later revealed as Jerusalem and the Temple Mount. The holiness there is of such an extreme that people contaminated with ritual impurity are not permitted to enter. However, even outside the Temple there are the "small sanctuaries" (see Ezekiel 11:16), our synagogues and houses of study. Anyone is welcome to these places all it takes is the ability to get there. 

Now one might argue that this is kind of unfair. After all what if you do not live very close to one of these places? (Of course, in Orthodox Judaism we expect people to choose to live in places where such institutions are already established, or you plan to establish them yourself.) Well, true, it is unfair, but there's not much you can do about it - try harder. 

I would assume something similar to Muslims who travel to Mecca or Christians who want to walk the Camino de Santiago. It's much harder to do if you live halfway around the world, too bad. And the same is true with Aslan's Table. It's out there and anyone can visit, even if no one originally knew that it was. It's a great opportunity because one can gain spiritually from visiting there. And if you can't sail? Well, that's just how it is. The physical world sets up an inherent lack of equality in this spiritual endeavor.  

In this approach the physical effort is not sanctified or special any more than the sacrifice to make the trip. God, the perfect Judge, will give greater reward to the one who had to strive and sacrifice more and perhaps even reward those who try and do not succeed. But the effort per se is no more valuable than a means to an end. 

2) Doctor Cornelious called Navigation, "a noble and heroical art." Excusing for the moment why that should be so (we will have to return to it), we can suggest that sailing to Aslan's Table requires one to study, learn, and gain expertise in this art, presumably transforming this person into one who is himself noble and heroical. True, Aslan's Table may be hidden far out in the Eastern Sea where it is really hard to fine. But that's part of the challenge: can you become sufficiently good at navigation, attain sufficient nobility that you will look for it. 

From this perspective the effort is itself spiritual and the one who succeeds is thus inherently worthy of reward.

We'll continue next time.   

Aslan's Table

"Why is it called Aslan's table?" asked Lucy presently.

"It is set here by his bidding," said the girl, "for those who come so far...."

(The Voyage of the Dawn Treader)

As told to us in The Voyage of the Dawn Treader, Aslan established a beautiful oasis on an island in the middle of the Easter Sea. On that island, attended to by a retired star, is a magnificent feast, unlike any found even amongst the wealthiest of kings. Furthermore, the feast is renewed every day such that, in theory, one can spend however much time they wanted there and never lack for food. 

Furthermore, the knife the White Witch used to kill Aslan is placed on the table with the feast. We are told that it was brought there to be kept in honor. 

The entire scene raises a number of questions. First, it appears that Alsan is presenting a reward for those who have managed to sail that far east. Is simply sailing east a worthwhile endeavor that it should be rewarded? Is the physical prowess and capability deserving of reward? This all seems based on physical strength not spiritual yearning or growth. Or is there some positive attitude or motivation that would lead someone to that island?

Second, what is the point of the feast. Is it a reward, as in good job, time to turn around? Is it a taste of what is to come and an encouragement to keep going? Or is it a place to stop and live out the rest of one's life there?

Third, what is the goal of having a star administer the island? Is that what stars usually do (actually, given Coriaken maybe yes). 

Finally, why is the Stone Knife brought there of all places. Why not keep it in Narnia where it can be revered and actively honored by many?

I realize we're in the middle of a bunch of things - hopefully we'll get back to all of them. But these are some of the questions I've been thinking of recently.  

Kind Actions Cause Cruel Ones

In out last post we started analyzing the statement of Raish Lakish in Ecclesiastes Rabbah, "Anyone who becomes merciful in place of cruel, will at the end, become cruel in the place of merciful." (Ecclesiastes Rabbah 7:16). There we asserted that this was due to cause and effect: by having mercy on those who are cruel, for example exempting them from any punishment for their crimes, will only enable them to commit further acts of cruelty. If not by the grace of Aslan, the discussions between Lucy, Edmond, and King Lune regarding Prince Rabadash, would have indeed brought about such as a circumstance. 

Our Sages, however, go one step further. It is not simply that displaced mercy for evildoers will enable the evildoer to perform more acts of cruelty. No! The person who invokes inappropriate mercy will themselves act with unwarranted cruelty. As proof the midrash references the actions of King Saul. King Saul had been commanded by God to wipe out the Amalekites. Much to God's chagrin, Saul had mercy on their king (1 Samuel 15:9). However, Saul did completely wipe out the priestly city of Nob (1 Samuel 22:19) who did nothing but support David assuming David was operating at Saul's command. 

Similarly with Ahab, who, as we mentioned a couple of posts ago, was merciful with ben-Haddad the king of Aram who had previously ordered Ahab to give him his wives and children (1 Kings 20:34). Nevertheless, when Ahab desired the vineyard a Naboth's, his wife Jezebel arranged for Naboth to be falsely accused of a capital offense and he received the death penalty (1 Kings 21:13). 

The commentaries on the midrash attempt to understand why it is that displaced mercy should lead someone to act cruelly. After all, shouldn't the exact opposite be true? If one shows mercy even when they should not, they will certainly show mercy when they should?

The general approach taken is to simply say that mercy or not mercy is not the true issue. What is actually being discussed is fidelity to the words of God. Saul's unwillingness to listen to God with respect to Amalek demonstrates that there are no circumstances that he can be trusted to listen to God. Sometimes that lack of adherence will manifest in undue mercy, and sometimes in undue cruelty. But what is central is that God's commands should come first.

I actually think our Sages mean something deeper. I think we can fairly assume that people do not typically see themselves as being cruel. So how can anyone allow a dangerous or violent criminal get away with their crimes? Is it not obvious that such people will then harm others? The answer is straightforward. Those who free the criminal believe that either the pain and suffering by those future victims is unimportant or that the victims of the criminal's future violence deserve the pain and suffering. There is no other way to justify how a normal supposedly moral person can justify such actions. 

Now we see how mercy to the undeserved will make that person cruel to the innocent. There is no way around it. The undue mercy presupposes a lack of mercy for others.  Saul's undue mercy for Amalek had to assume cruelty to the future victims of Amalek's frequent attacks on innocent outposts. And so, when one of those outposts did make a mistake, he could not be merciful. 

This the trap that King Lune almost fell into. Undue mercy for Rabadash pre-supposes cruelty to the innocent of Archenland who would be Rabadash's next victims. Aslan had to appear and stop the kind king from going too far and bringing ruin on himself and all of Archenland. 

Kindness Leading to Cruelty

Raish Lakish said, "Anyone who becomes merciful in place of cruel, will at the end, become cruel in the place of merciful." (Ecclesiastes Rabbah 7:16)

Taking this statement of our Sages as stated we can see how it may be applied to Ahab's willingness to free ben-Haddad the king of Aram. When a villain is left unpunished, while perhaps it seems merciful, ultimately, far more cruelty will arise. Criminals let go without consequences will continue to criminalize. There may be a feel-good moment for the prosecutor or judge, that does not change the harm done to the next innocent victim. The judge of prosecutor is cruel to the innocent and will be recognized as cruel by anyone who values ethics and morals.  

Ahab may have felt he was being merciful, but ben-Haddad was not deserving of such mercy and instead caused unimagined harm to the innocent citizens of Israel. 

And the same is true of what King Lune almost did. In their discussion of what to do with Rabadash after he was taken prisoner Lucy offers, "Let him go freon strait promise of fair dealing in the future. It may be that he will keep his word." Of course that sounds a bit risky, because what if he doesn't. What if, after being humiliated by Archenland and Narnia he decides the best thing would be revenge. That seems like a much greater probability. 

Edmund realizes this but counters the thought with, ""But, by the Lion, if he breaks it again, may it be in such time and place that any of us could swap off his head in clean battle." Well, maybe, but maybe not. And what about all of the innocent people that might die in the battle in the meantime? 

Finally, King Lune calls Rabadash in and is about to provide an ultimatum presumably based on Lucy's suggestion. However, in doing so I think he makes things worse. "Nevertheless, in consideration of your youth and the ill nurture, devoid of all gentilesse and courtesy, which you have doubtless had in the land of slaves and tyrants, we are disposed to set you free, unharmed, on these conditions..."

Hold on a second! OK, we're blaming Rabadash's like of honor and civility on his nurturing, fair enough. But now you're just going to let him free with no punishment on condition that he'll be honest? You're going to send him back to the place where he had all that horrible nurturing and expect him to turn over a new leaf? At least keep him around for a while to teach him how to be honorable! 

I really think that all three of these protagonists have it wrong. They are applying mercy when they should not, risking great cruelty which is unlikely to fall on them.  

Fortunately for all concerned Aslan rescues them from this morally rotten though process. He punishes Rabadash and forces him to face consequences by transforming him into an ass. However, the transformation is not permanent. As Aslan puts it, "Justice shall be mixed with mercy." And Aslan gets it right. Without justice there is no mercy - there is simply chaos. King Lune's "mercy" already caused great harm to his own family and was about to endanger all of Archenland. Aslan's lesson of justice first is the necessary response. 

However, despite all of the above, our Sages have another explanation for, "Anyone who becomes merciful in place of cruel, will at the end, become cruel in the place of merciful." Which we will get to in our next post. 

Pre-Tisha b'Av

Apologies for my complete lack of updating. My only excuse is I've been working to write up some thoughts that I've had on kinnos. For those not familiar, we are approaching the 9th (tisha) day of the Hebrew month of Av which is a National Day of Mourning for the tragedies that have occurred to the Jewish people throughout its history. On that day, along with fasting and acting as mourners, we recite what are called kinnos, elegies recalling the various tragedies. For anyone who's interested, I talk about some of them here: Tisha b'Av Kinnos - YouTube and my time over the past few weeks has been to elaborate and write down some of these ideas.

Anyway, that was a pretty long excuse, but I'll be back soon. 

Kindness between Royals

As those who did the homework from the last post saw, in chapter 20 of 1 Kings, King Ahab of Israel is merciful to ben-Haddad the King of Aram. This same ben-Haddad had earlier in the chapter demanded Ahab's wives, children, gold and silver, and then launched a major offensive against Israel. Israel miraculously won the major battles and King Ahab frees ben-Haddad, calling him his brother.   

One might praise Ahab for his great kindness in the face of cruelty. Perhaps, some might say, ben-Haddad will be overcome with emotion over the goodness shown to him and turn over a new leaf bringing an era of peace between Israel and Aram. And even if he doesn't, it is necessary to give him that chance. Of course, ben-Haddad does not usher in peace. Ahab's kindness enables Aram to retain its strength which they eventually use to kill Ahab to severely harm Israel. 

Furthermore, we see that Ahab is not such a kind individual. For in the very next chapter, he steals a vineyard from one of his own subjects, Naboth the Jezreelite. How can we understand this sudden change of behavior?  

How could Ahab have shown such great kindness to ben-Haddad, but such cruelty to Naboth?

One answer may be that Ahab held of a strict divide between royalty and the proletariat. Ben-Haddad, for all he was evil, was a fellow royal. Similar to divine blood found in Lewis' royals of Glome, who could only marry fellow royals, Ahab could, without pause, be kind to a fellow king, while cruel to one of his own people. 

Should this be the case then King Lune may not have much to learn from Ahab's story. King Lune frees Rabadash, not from a sense of kinship between royals but in hopes that he will have learned his lesson and out of a recoiling from killing Rabadash not in battle. Thanks to Aslan, King Lune's hopes come true and Rabadash (though not out of the kindness of his heart) does bring peace between Calormen and Archenland. 

However, our Sages read the story of Ahab otherwise and that understanding challenges Lewis' ending to the story of Rabadash.