On Straweberries and the Use of Magic

Photo by Natasha Skov on Unsplash

In our last post we noted that Peter's shield had an image of a lion in a red "as bright as ripe strawberries." This led us to notice that Strawberry, the horse of the cabbie who was to become King Frank, like Peter, came from our world.

Strawberry is a rather down-to-earth kind of fellow. He was chosen to be a Talking Beast and rememberd our world as if only a dream. Nonetheless, he volunteers to help Digory by bringing him to Aslan, and then, after Aslan transforms him into a flying horse, he takes Digory and Polly on a quest to find an apple for Aslan. On the journey, he simply eats grass and tells the children that Aslan likes requests rather than granting things upfront. Polly refuses to use her own magic to get dinner and instead 'roughs it' with Digory eating only taffies. 

Hold on, that ties a few things together. Polly could have used magic but does not. Aslan could have used magic but likes being asked. And King Peter is given no magic. It's almost as if he is not given magic because Aslan likes to be asked. 

In a world of magic, those without may feel helpless, or at least at a disadvantage. And they are, if they have nothing more powerful. But Father Christmas reminds Peter that there is something, or someone, more powerful, Aslan himself. 

And perhaps that's the answer. Peter is given no magic so that he always remembers Aslan. 

Peter's Sword and Shield

Of Magic he learned only the theory, for Doctor Cornelius said the practical part was not proper study for princes...

I was thinking of King Peter's sword... You see when it comes to the gifts Father Christmas gave the three Pevensie children, we discussed at length Susan's horn, how it serves as a wordless prayer with a guaranteed but unknown answer. Then there's Lucy cordial which magically heals. And then, there's Peter's sword and shield... which are just a normal sword and shield! 

Why?

Wouldn't we expect there to be something special or magical about them?

And then I realized that Lewis already answered the question when describing Prince Caspian's studies under his tutor Dr. Cornelius. Practical magic is improper study for princes. But why? Susan and Lucy can have magical items, but Peter cannot? 

Presumably the difference is that Peter will be the High King and he, and perhaps only he, cannot use magic. I think there are a number of possible reasons why not: 

(1) Peter's sword, despite not being magical, does garner some attention in the Chronicles of Narnia. He forgets to clean it after killing the wolf, he draws it and pronounces its name when discovering it in the ruins of Cair Paravel. But Peter's shield is kind of ignored. Maybe it shouldn't be, because the shield has upon it an image of a red lion. So red they are "as bright as ripe strawberries at the moment when you pick it." 

Hold on, strawberries? That's a strange way to describe red. I would have thought the natural (and certainly Christian) description would be red as blood, after all this is Aslan's image we're talking about here. And, in fact, when Prince Rilian's shield goes from "without device" to silver color with an image of a red lion (exactly like Peter's shield) the red is described as, "redder than blood or cherries." That makes sense... but strawberries?

Do we have strawberries elsewhere in the Chronicles? 

Of course, the answer is yes. Strawberry, the horse of the cabby who was to become King Frank, and who himself was renamed Fledge the father of all flying horses. Interesting, as both Peter and Strawberry came from our world, where there is no magic, were given quests in Narnia and were given no magic. What did they rely on instead of magic? They relied on the word of Aslan. 

So... where does that leave us? 

I guess we'll see next time...

Letters to Malcom: Letter 3 (Part 1)

OK, there's a lot in this Letter so we'll go one step at a time... 

Of course, as with others of Lewis' books, we only see one side of the conversation. Here we do not see Malcom's letters, so we don't have an exact formulation of the parallel he attempted to draw between prayer and a man making love with his wife. Yet, it's clear that Lewis, rightly so in my mind, is not at all impressed. Two points to make on this part. 

1) Jewish literature and liturgy uses many parallels to provide insight into the relationship between God and the Children of Israel / the individual (anyone interested can read some of my thoughts on the subject here, though since then I've developed it a lot further). These include: Father/child, Husband/wife, Master/slave, and Shepherd/sheep. In different context different ones of these parallels are used. In Jewish prayer we find heavy usage of the Father/child and Master/slave parallels sometimes even juxtaposed like in the sixth blessing of the amidah. 

However, the Husband/wife parallel is rarely used in prayer (perhaps the Friday night L'chah Dodi is an exception) and for good reason. It's completely out of place. A wife should never have to ask a husband for sustenance, clothes, healing, etc. these are all part of the husband's obligations! What kind of husband doesn't provide for his wife - that would be clear grounds for divorce (not to mention it seems like a horrible relationship). Which means, that to pose as God's wife and then ask for one's daily bread would be accusing God of not fulfilling His obligation - which seems like a pretty horrible thing to do. 

2) I would just point out, that Judaism commands humanity to have children, be fruitful and multiply (Genesis 9:7), or 'He formed Earth for habitation' (Isaiah 45:18) and therefore the sexual act can not only be for the glory of God (which would be to strengthen the family unit) but also a (possibly) explicit part of fulfilling God's command.  

Letters to Malcom: Addendum to Letter 1

Going back to the first letter, I realized there was another point I wanted to mention. Lewis makes this rather depressing statement with regard to church service, "The business of us laymen is simply to endure and make the best of it. Any tendency to a passionate preference for one type of service must be regarded simply as a temptation." 

Again, I really do not see where Lewis is coming with such a pessimistic view. The goal of the service is speak to God, to praise Him, thank Him, to come closer to Him. Sometimes that involves unburdening ourselves to Him, or including Him in our festive mood. But to do that, the mode of service does matter. Some people like singing, for example, some do not. Some prefer a slow pace, others a faster pace. It matters because we concentrate better, we pay more attention, and our mind matters less when the service fits our style. It's easy to say one does not need a style when in comes to prayer, but I don't think it's true. If the cantor starts with an operatic rendition of a service my concentration will dissipate. That's not a good thing and perhaps it's something for which I should better train myself, but it's true. 

Lewis complains of the shepherds going off on their own way and vanishing over distant horizons. But maybe all of those paths lead to the same place, but some people like mountain climbing while others prefer to go around. 

But even beyond that I'm bothered by Lewis' formulation. A prayer service is an opportunity to connect with God, and the best we can do is endure?

Malcom appears to disagree with Lewis from a different perspective. He claims that the goal of the service is to glorify God and thus the priest must do what he can in his way to achieve that goal. Lewis disagrees with Malcom because the glorification of God is when the people truly woship Him. The priest is presumably to be that connection. 

Letters to Malcom: Addendum to Formalized Liturgy

I just to add a couple of other perspectives on formalized liturgy that perhaps are worth contemplating:

1) Words have an underlying, perhaps mystical meaning, that is understood and appreciate only by religious masters such as our Sages who instituted and concretized the liturgy. This is the reason, for example, why the Talmud records it was so difficult to identify someone who could compose an extra blessing against the heretics in the amidah service. If the task was simply to compose a paragraph, how hard could it be? However, only a uniquely talented and wise individual could include in that paragraph deep religious themes, shades of meaning, hints, and mysticism. 

Though the typical individual may not appreciate the richness, beauty, and religious importance of the words of the formal liturgy, they are there. And praying it sensitizes a person to all held within in a way similar, l'havdil, to why high-school kids read Shakespeare, though there is no hope they will at this point understand the depth of his writing.

A more extreme form of this argument (which I admit to not resonating with) is to say, that the words of the Sages-composed prayer fill mathematics like equations that are known to influence God is certain ways. It is these words that must be said for the prayer to achieve maximum effectiveness. Other words may seem to say the same thing on their surface. Nonetheless, no matter how much intent or concentration one prays with, these words are simply better. 

2) One might also take the opposite approach. What right does finite man have to pray to the Infinite God? How can we ever give enough praise, enough thanks, or even make enough requests for the myriad of things that we need to go about our seemingly un-miraculous, 'daily routine'? How is it even possible? The answer is that we can't and it is impossible. In truth, “For You silence is praise” (Psalms 65:2). Even attempting to start to praise or make requests of God is insulting.

So, how can we? 

Because our ancestors did - and only by following in their ways can we do so as well. Hence, it is necessary to follow the set liturgy, because deviating from it is at best hopeless, because how can we approach the Infinite, and, at worst, smacks of insolence, as if we have the right to approach Him. 

OK, hopefully next time we'll go further... 

 

Who Has Rewarded Me With Goodness

"He was as safe as if he had been in bed, though he did not feel so." 

(Prince Caspian)

Trumpkin the dwarf's first meeting with Aslan was quite eye-opening for the (then) unbelieving dwarf. Aslan quickly demonstrated who was the boss, tossing Trumpkin in the air and then catching him, safe and sound. Lewis describes the scene with the above quote - Trumpkin was perfectly safe, Aslan had great things in store for him, he just didn't feel that way twisting and turning in the air. 

One might think that this should always be the case. A person will live if God wills it, and will not if God wills otherwise. A priori, it doesn't matter if one finds himslef in seemingly dangerous circumstances (as Trumpkin did) because all is by the will of God. Hence, one need not worry, pray, or beseech God any more in a dangerous circumstance than in a normal one, because one's survival is only dependent on God.   

That this is not the case can be demonstrated on multiple levels. First note Jacob's reluctance to send Benjamin down to Egypt with his brothers. Jacob is concerned that some accident will happen to him. But why is Jacob more worried about Benjamin elsewhere? Either God decrees evil upon Benjamin or not, who cares where he is? The midrash already addresses this question saying, "From here it is derived that the heavenly accuser accuses only in a time of danger." In other words, someone is more likely to judged harshly if they are in danger. 

Another source demonstrating this is the existence of the Thanksgiving offering (now fulfilled by the recitation of the 'birkas hagomel,' the benediction recited over goodness). This offering is brought after a person survives a particularly dangerous event: travel across desert or over a sea, spending time in prison, or suffering a grave illness. The details of the offering are such that a lot of food has to be eated in a short time, forcing the owner, the survivor, to invite others to partake. This will naturally lead to his publicizing God's kindness to him and sanctify God's name in public.

Though we currently do not have the ability to bring offerings it appears to me that the opportunity to publicly thank God for his kindness should be taken. So, with that in mind, I would like to publicly thank God for protecting my son during his just-ended service in the Israeli Defense Force. I am not going to try to describe the worry and concern we, his parents, had during that time, especially being so far away. However, we can now look back and see that God was with him at every step and in every decision. 

Of course, prayers are still needed for all of the soldiers protecting the people of Israel and for the hostages whose suffering is unimaginable. But that in no way lessens my obligation to thank God for the kindness he has done to me and I feel priveleged to be able to share my story with all of you. 

Letters to Malcom: Letter 2 (Part 3)

I have been admittedly hesitant and procrastinating on writing on standardized liturgy versus personal liturgy. This is in a large part because I don't believe there is a clear traditional Jewish view of on this question. Nonetheless, it's time to write something so let me just start and we'll see how we do. 

Traditional Jews have set prayers for all services - which means at least three times a day. Now, that does not mean that any given service has not evolved over the years, of course it has. Nor does is mean that every traditional Jew, or even any two particular synagogues will have the exact same service - that's not true either. There are a myraid of minor differences and sometimes relatively major differences based on country of origin, subsect, and rabbinic leadership. And there are even some slots in which one can fill in personal prayers when praying quietly. Yet, within those boundaries traditional Jews tend to be quite conservative when it comes to changing or updating liturgy. Try to walk into any synagogue and say, we should try doing this some other way, and you will be shouted down if not worse. 

This then begs the question, why is our liturgy so unyielding? Why not provide people or at least leaders the lattitude to pray what they want (during the standard service)? For the purposes of this post, I'm going to not concentrate on the historical circumstances that caused a standardization of the prayers (see Maimonides), rather, I'll concentrate on the view from where we are now. 

So why have a standard liturgy?

1) A first answer is inline with Maimmonides claim: sometimes it's hard to express oneself. Do we really want to use our own words when someone has already expressed the same feelings much more eloquently? Nevertheless, Lewis' comment, "we shall continue to pour into them our own meaning," is very much on target. 

2) Connection to the past: there is something to be said to using the same prayers my grandfather recited in Auschwitz and his ancestors recited during the Cossack rebellion and his ancestors during the massacres of the Crusades. Sure, again I will pour in my own meaning but that doesn't blunt the power of connecting to the past and realizing that God must have answered them since I'm here. 

3) Congregational prayer: power in numbers if everyone is praying the same thing. Not to mention everyone knows what's going on and no one has to guess. And even if someone is praying alone, he or she can still feel part of the congregation who prays knowing that they are reciting the same words. 

4) Standard liturgy also enables concrete teaching of the prayers.

OK, those are my thoughts for now.

If I don't have a chance to get back online, I would like to wish everyone a happy and sweet New Year. A year of peace, joy, and gladness in which we see the hostages returned, the IDF soldiers are safe, and hatred is no more.