On Revealing and Unrevealing Disguises (Part 2)

In our last posts we've been discussing different types of disguises: those that attempt to hide one's true self and those that reveal it. We saw how various Narnian heroes attempted to disguise themselves into things they were not and were either stopped from doing so, or the disguise utterly failed. Tumnus, however, unknowingly disguised himself as one who was going Christmas shopping. And because this revealed his true nature as one hoping for Aslan's redemption, he succeeded in playing a role in that redemption.

The reason for this is that any true hero, and any true redemption, cannot come without one's true self. There is no hiding! Queen Esther had to reveal that she was a Jewess to bring about redemption, she could no longer hide. So too, Peter and the Pevensies and Shasta and Aravis, could not hide as slaves or merchants to achieve their personal redemption. They had to be themselves.

In the Last Battle both villains and heroes attempt to disguise themselves. First, and most importantly, Puzzle is convinced to disguise himself as Aslan. In this, Puzzle made no attempt at redemption or anything else. There was no plan, no goal, and certainly no redemption in Puzzle's mind. Quite the opposite, there was an anti-redemption, a false redemption in which Shift perceived the "redemption" of Narnia in the Calormen Empire and not in Aslan. And, indeed, it worked. A false redemption can occur, in fact it must occur, via lies and untruths. 

Furthermore, a false redemption must be totally false. Shift attempts to disguise himself as a man and a king by putting on Tirian's crown. And, in a sense, he succeeds. The Narnaians call him a man and worship him. It is only we, looking from the worldview of true redemption, and the Calormens who are making no attempt at redemption who are not fooled by Shift's disguises. 

Finally, we have our heroes, Tirian, Jill, and Eustace, once again dressing up not as their true selves, but as Calormens. And while they have some temporary success, their ultimate failure is never in doubt. In fact, it is as Calormens that they see that Tash himself has invaded Narnia. Eventually, they remove theri disguise, for the fight cannot be won as someone else.

Those who truly seek redemption can never be ashamed of their hopes and dreams. Though tempting, such disguises cannot work. The disguises one should wear are those that further the redemptive cause, to act as heroes of the cause even if we are not, and to dress up, to be, great warriors of God even if we don't recognize it when we look in the mirror. 

God chooses the method of redemption, not us. 

Our job is to keep His banner raised high. 

Revealing and Unrevealing Disguises (Purim)

Tonight is the night of Purim, and we've just read the Book of Esther in the synagogue. It's interesting to contrast the two Queens of the book and the disguises they wear or not. The first is Queen Vashti, the first wife of King Ahasuerus. The King demands that she present herself before the officers of the Land with her royal crown. She refuses - she does not take her position and its responsibilities seriously. She really is a Queen but because she refuses to reveal it, she is sentenced to death. 

In contrast, Queen Esther does not see herself as anyone particularly special. She at first refuses to go announced before the king. Mordechai tells her what her role actually is, and that even if she does not see it, everyone in the castle and Land looks at her with favor. She puts on her royal clothes, enters before the king, and sparks redemption.  

On Revealing and Unrevealing Disguises (Part 1)

Our sages tell us that you can learn of someone's true nature if you observe them in three contexts: their wallet (their business dealings), when they are angry, and when they drink. On Purim, which for non-Jerusalmites falls out on Friday (March 14), two of these factors come into play: money, where there is an extra emphasis and command to give money to the poor, and wine, which is traditionally drunk due to the centrailty of wine in the commemorated story of Queen Esther. 

In place of anger, however, I have often suggested that the Jewish people have developed another method of demonstrating their true nature, which is the custom of dressing up. How this custom arose is not the goal of this post, but I nonetheless think that how someone dresses up may provide insight into their nature. I think people inherently realize this when in English they will colloquially say, "I am going to be ______ for Purim?" And of course, that's silly. People are who they are and do not become a princess, Batman, or Aaron Judge on Purim. But perhaps there's more than just a shortening of language in this formulation, when someone says they "want to be," rather than saying they "want to dress up as." Because, to some degree, the person really would like to be Queen Esther, a soldier, or a fireman - why else would they want to dress up as that person or object?

This is true dressing up - in fact we might say it's a revealing disguise, because while the disguise may make someone look like someone or something else, in fact, it reveals an aspect of who they really are. 

Before tying this into Narnia, I'll just note that personally I do not dress up (or drink) on Purim because I am perfectly happy being myself (not that there isn't much to criticize in that). However, this year, I will wear my math tie in honor of Pi Day.   

Anyway... on to Narnia...

There is quite a bit of dressing up in Narnia and I think what we'll see is that there are good ways and bad ways to dress up. When Lucy first enters Narnia she meets the faun Tumnus who is unknowingly dressed up look "just as if he had been doing his Christmas shopping." Of course, as we've discussed elsewhere, if there was one thing Tumnus was NOT doing it was Christmas shopping. But Tumnus, perhaps still unconsciously, yearned for the time that he would be able to, and I have no doubt that less than 12 months later he was in fact Christmas shopping. This "disguise" was revealing. It showed us the true nature of Tumnus' soul - he was yearning for redemption. He knew there would be redemption, and he disguised himself to reveal the coming of redemption. 

Next, when the Pevensie children enter Narnia for the first time together they don fur coats leading Lucy to exclaim, "We can pretend we are Arctic explorers," and she's in some senses correct, but it is an unrevealing disguise. It does not truly demonstrate who they are or what they want. Peter responds correctly, "This is going to be exciting enough without pretending." This adventure cannot be pretend, it must be them, themselves, not disguised as somone else. 

The same thing happens shortly afterwards. Peter suggests thinking of a stratagem to save Tumnus from the White Witch. He says, "I mean couldn't we dress up as something, or pretend to be - oh, pedlars or anything." These are unrevealing disguises. Peter has desire to be a pedlar. And here, Mr Beaver has the proper reply. No, you cannot pretend to be someone or something else. True hope, true redemption will not occur through you on your own no matter what you do - only through Aslan can you participate in the redemptive process, "No good your trying, of all people. But now that Aslan is on the move..." Peter, like Lucy earlier, was trying to hide. Redemption comes through truth. 

Several years later, future Narnian heroes do dress up in an effort to hide their true nature. It fails miserably. Shasta, Aravis, Hwin, and Bree are attempting to get safely past Tashban on their journey to Narnia and decide that Aravis, Hwin, and Bree must disguise themselves. Bree cannot be seen as a warhorse being used as a packhorse by a grubby child and Aravis, hiding from her family, certainly cannot be noticed as a royal Takheena. They go through great pains to make unrevealing disguises, ones that would hide their true nature and destiny. And the disguised almost immediately fail. Bree is instantly recognized as a warhorse, and Aravis can't make it halfway through Tashbaan without being noticed by a (not very close) friend. Of course, this works out for the best, but it shows once again, that redemption does not come about by hiding and sneakiness, it must be quested after in truth, honesty, and determination to do what is right.

This now takes us to The Last Battle, where we have a number of characters who again disguise themselves and the disastrous results. 

We will explore that in our next.  

The Air of Narnia

"The Narnian air was bringing back to him a strength he had won when he sailed the Eastern Seas with King Caspian..." 

The Silver Chair

The concept of having a place dedicated for certain tasks finds itself in many areas of life. Indeed, it may even spark the modern debate of returning to the office. But the concept of hallowed ground, made sacred by our own actions or those of our ancestors, finds its source at the beginning of Jewish religious consciousness. The Talmud praises one who has a set place for prayer (Brachot 6b), "Rabbi Ḥelbo said in the name of Rav Huna: One who sets a fixed place for his prayer, the God of Abraham assists him," and goes on to assert that Abraham himself did the same. Pray in a place once, and you have prayed. Continue praying in the same place, and the place becomes a place a prayer: a place that helps you pray and where God himself comes to listen. In fact, King Solomon requested that the Temple serve as this place (1 Kings 8:29), "May Your eyes be open day and night toward this House, toward the place of which You have said, ‘My name shall abide there’; may You heed the prayers that Your servant will offer toward this place." 

Upon Eustace's return to Narnia in the Silver Chair he demonstrates strength and a sense of adventure that Jill did not expect from her schoolmate. Lewis attributes this to the Narnian air restoring to him the strength he had won decades ago (Narnian) during his adventures on the Dawn Treader. Lewis notes the same phenomenon with respect to Edmund and to Jill herself upon their second returns. Concerning Edmund, Lewis writes, "The air of Narnia had been working upon him ever since they arrived on the island, and all his old battles came back to him, and his arms and fingers remembered their old skill." 

There are two complementary ways this occurs. First, a return to a place makes it appropriate for actions that have already occurred there. When I sit in my place in the synagogue, I will naturally default to the right mindset for prayer. Second, the place itself returns to me a capability. I always pray here and thus, even if I'm not in the appropriate frame of mind, the place itself gives grants me the ability to pray. 

So too with Narnia. When Eustace, Edmund, and Jill return to Narnia they are naturally poised for adventure including the skills and hardships it comes with. Eustace's alertness, Edmund's swordplay, and Jill's stealth may have been aroused elsewhere, but in Narnia it emerges on its own. 

But even more, Narnia itself lends itself to such positive traits. Lewis makes this point via the observations of Tirian when considering Eustace and Jill, "in fact they both seemed to be already much stronger and bigger and more grown-up than they had been when he first met them a few hours ago. It is one of the effects which Narnian air often has on visitors from our world." 

Why, or how, does Narnia do this? No doubt it is due to the actions of the Narnian Lords and her other heroes who define Narnia's character. If Narnia is a place of bravery and strength, it is due to Peter the Magnificent. If it is a place of justice and righteousness, it is due to Edmund the Just. And if is a place of valiance and complete faithfulness, it is due to Lucy the Valiant. So, when Eustace and Jill (or anyone else) leave our world, one also resplendent with heroes, but also too much with the opposite, and enter Narnia these characteristics will emerge. 

There is another possible explanation specifically tied to the fact that visitors to Narnia are almost always children. Perhaps Lewis is making the following point. For better or for worse, our world keeps children as children. The Pevensies enter Narnia to insurrection, weapons, and war. Eustace is forced to join a quest of historic magnitude. Jill to responsibilities of the greatest importance. Are our children ready for that? Would we send our preteens on winter searches with a marshwiggle as a guide? Would we entrust even our young adults with national responsibility?

Children in Narnia are stronger, bigger, and more grown up because they are allowed to be just that. And that is Lewis' goal with the Chronicles of Narnia. They are children's tales with the express goal of doing something more - inculcating moral and divine truths. When our children enter Narnia, they are asked to become something even better than bigger and stronger, they are asked to be moral, truthful, and dedicated to God. 

Narnian Ba'alei Teshuva: Digory Kirke

What is complete repentance [teshuva]? A person who confronts the same situation in which he sinned when he has the potential to commit [the sin again], and, nevertheless, abstains and does not commit it because of his teshuvah alone and not because of fear or a lack of strength.

(Maimonides Mishneh Torah, Laws of Repentance 2:1)

Maimonides in his magnum opus defines one who has achieved full repentance. Namely, it is one who finds themselves in the same exact situation in which he once fell prey to sin and this time holds back. 

I think this type of repentance was achieved by Digory Kirke. Recall, that upon visiting the world of Charn, Digory and Polly enter a hall of figures sitting in rows of chairs. In the middle of the room was a bell which promised danger to the one who rang it, but unrelenting curiosity to the one who did not. Polly was not interested in the danger and was ready to leave. But Digory exclaimed, "We can't get out of it now. We shall always be wondering what else would have happened if we had struck the bell. I'm not going home to be driven mad by always thinking of that," and physically restrained her.  

We all know what happened next. Digory did ring the bell awakening the Queen Jadis who, in Narnia, was to become the White Witch. Of course, Aslan turned the situation into a positive one. The same witch was to bring King Frank into Narnia and Aslan would eventually sacrifice himself to save Narnia. But what about Digory himself?

Unlike the Edmond who betrayed his family requiring Aslan's sacrifice, Aslan arranged a different (better?) means of repentance. Digory is given a task - to retrieve an apple from a faraway garden. With Polly and Fledge he reaches the garden only to find the same witch urging yet again. For, as we know, the apple is "the apple of youth, the apple of life," and all Digory has to do is take it, give it to his mother who is now laying on her death bed, and all will be well. " 'Oh!' gasped Digory as if he had been hurt, and put his hand to his head. For he now knew that the most terrible choice lay before him." 

A terrible choice, but perhaps one that he's seen before. Carry on with his mission or wonder forever whether things could have been different. The same situation, the same stakes (if not higher). But this time Digory holds back. He escapes and returns to Alsan.

Throughout the Chronicles, Aslan is reticent to let characters know what might have been. But this time he actually says so quite clearly. "Understand, then, that it would have healed her; but not to your joy or hers. The day would have come when both you and she would have looked back and said it would havebeen better to die in that illness." Why would Aslan reveal to Digory the might have been, but not to anyone else?

Perhaps because, at least in this way, Digory stands above them all. He is a true repentant, the one who faced sin knowing he had previously lost, but overcame. He deserves to know that his decision was right, not only morally, but on all planes. 

The Light of Darkness (Part 2)

In our previous post on darkness we discussed that, just as there are two types of silence, there are two types of darkness: complete darkness of dread and fear, and darkness which enables you to see something else. The total silence of the Dark Island was not disturbed by the sound of the oars, nor was the total darkness dissolved by the lanterns on the ship. But the silence of the Witch and dwarf enabled Edmond to hear the sounds of Spring, is there are parallel within the Chronicles in which darkness provides light?

I would like to suggest the answer is yes. One night, as the land of Narnia lay dormant ruled by the cruel King Miraz, the Tarva, the Lord of Victory, saluted Alambil, the Lady of Peace, in the heavens above. The great majority of those below were asleep, not even knowing the history of the past, they certainly would not look to the heavens to read the history of the future. Yet, two men from the King's palace stood upon the highest tower watching the conjunction. One was Caspian, Prince of Narnia who had been awoken by his teacher for what he thought was a lesson in astronomy. The other was an old sage, about to bare his heart to his young student, who knew that, as he peered through the darkness, he saw the light of redemption that he was about to spark. 

Dr. Cornelius knew that to light the fire the young prince all else had to be muted. Caspian had to see not Narnia as it was, but Narnia as it could be.  

The stars of Narnia dance, at Aslan's command, in time and step with prophecies of the future. But it is only in the darkness of night that the future can be learned. Keep on the lights and all you see is the present. Turn them off, and the future descends.  

Narnian Ba'alei Teshuva: Uncle Andrew

 Ours, my boy, is a high and lonely destiny
(The Magician's Nephew)

There are few characters in the Chronicles of Narnia as detestable as Digory's uncle Andrew. His arrogance reigns supreme through the beginning of "The Magician's Nephew," climaxing in the above statement that enables him to trick a young girl into travelling to an unknown world. Upon meeting the Witch he becomes a sickening sycophant allowing her to ruin him financially. And when he enters Narnia he becomes a heartless entrepenuer willing to sell all of Narnia to make a buck. His mind and soul are so closed to God and spirituality that he hears Aslan's songs as a lion's roars, the kind words of the talking beasts as yelps and barks. 

Yet, by the end of the book, "Uncle Andrew never tried any Magic again as long as he lived. He had learned his lesson, and in his old age he became a nicer and less selfish old man than he had ever been before." After all the hardships he suffered he reevaluated, he changed. True he did not become a great man, maybe not even a good one, but he improved, he changed direction towards the light. 

Well, at least to a point... He still had one connection to that magician past:

But he always liked to get visitors alone in the billiard-room and tell them stories about a mysterious lady, a foreign royalty, with whom he had driven about London. "A devilish temper she had," he would say. "But she was a dem fine woman, sir, a dem fine woman."

Does this matter? Is looking back at the evil witch with some semblence of nostalgia reasonable or should he look back at that time only in horror and embarrassment? 

On the one hand this reminds us of the lizard on the shoulder of the ghost in The Great Divorce who promises sweet, fresh, innocent dreams. And Uncle Andrew is still left with that, his daydream that the Witch actually liked him. He cannot fully face that she was evil and he sinned, and therefore he cannot be fully forgiven. 

On the other hand, maybe in this world we just need a coping mechanism. Can we ever fully understand the evil of our ways? Would it not stymie us from being able to move forward. Perhaps Uncle Andrew was just being realistic. He knows what he did was wrong, but cannot face the ultimate truth, so he "harmlessly" whitewashes the situation. No one is hurt by a story of foreign royalty, Uncle Andrew gets some respect and interest from his listeners and everyone just goes on with their day. 

Clearly the first option seems more just. But at times, it is sin that is used as a stepping stone to finally come to God - our Sages at times have sins transformed into merits. 

I think this needs another post to further consider.