The Sound of Silence: Elijah, Job, and The Chosen

Can Jewish thought enlighten us on the topic of silence? Famously, in Chaim Potok’s, “The Chosen,” Danny, whose Hasidic father never talks to him outside of Talmud study, explains the concept of silence to Reuven, “You have to want to listen to it, and then you can hear it. It has a strange, beautiful texture. It doesn't always talk. Sometimes-sometimes it cries, and you can hear the pain of the world in it. It hurts to listen to it then. But you have to.”

In Potok’s view silence is also a means by which to hear the music of the spheres. The music is melancholy, it expresses pain because it reflects the suffering of an unredeemed world, an evil world in which millions of Jews can be taken to slaughter. The pain and anguish heard through silence is not just that of the people, but that of all of God's creations. The universe continues to sing God's praise in line with the Talmudic directive to praise God for bad tidings as He should be praised for good tidings. Therefore, the silence, even a sad silence, is inspirational and beautiful.

Perhaps not as famous is the silence heard by Elijah the Prophet on Mount Sinai. To review the story, Elijah attempts to demonstrate the power of God via the miraculous exploits on Mount Carmel. It works, God sends down a fire to consume Elijah’s sacrifice and the Jews react as Elijah desired. They kill the prophets of Ba’al and proclaim belief in the One God. But Elijah’s victory is short lived. Jezebel gives the order that he be killed and the people do not stand up to her. Elijah is forced to flee, and eventually he makes his way to Mount Sinai where he enters a cave. In the cave he has a vision. God asks him why he is there. Elijah recounts he zealousness but ultimate failure in attempting to convince Israel to leave their evil ways and return to God. He requests that God take his soul. God ignores Elijah’s request, “And He said: 'Go out, and stand on the mountain before God.' And, behold, God passed by. There was a great and strong wind that toppled the mountains, and broke the rocks before God; but God was not in the wind; and after the wind an earthquake; but God was not in the earthquake; and after the earthquake a fire; but God was not in the fire; and after the fire a small voice out of silence.”

Elijah attempted to convince the Jews of God’s presence by making loud noises and performing mighty feats, but that is not where God is found. God is found by listening to silence and through that hearing the faint chimes of the music of the spheres.

Both of the above examples demonstrate the second definition of silence (as identified in the last post), silence as a means of hearing something else. However, silence of the first definition, that which demonstrates absence and terror, is also found in the Jewish literature. In the fourth chapter of Job, Eliphaz of Teman attempts to convince Job that whatever punishment he received from God, was just. To prove his point, he relates a vision, “In thought-filled visions of the night, when deep sleep falls on men, 'Fear and trembling came upon me, causing all my bones to quake with fright.' In this vision a small voice emerges from the silence, 'Can mortals be acquitted by God? Can man be cleared by his Maker? He cannot trust His own servants, And casts reproach on His angels.' "

Eliphaz is thus cast into silence which, like the passengers on the Dawn Treader, causes fear and trembling. Something dreadful is about to fill the silence, and though faint, it is indeed crushing, a declaration that no man is innocent in the eyes of God (of course by the end of the book of Job, Eliphaz appears to be proven wrong. That issue, and the utilization of these verses in the Yom Kippur liturgy, will have to be explored elsewhere).

With all this in hand we are ready to return to the “Sound of Silence” in our next post.

The Sound of Silence

Searching YouTube earlier today for Hanukah songs by the Maccabeats, I came across their moving rendition of Simon and Garfunkel’s classic “The Sound of Silence,” starring and presented by Jew in the City. What makes this rendition unique is the contrast of the “Sound of Silence” with the beauty of the Jewish Sabbath. The take home message is clear, there is a wall of silence modern man builds around himself with his devices and ‘social networks.’ This limits, maybe even erases, true communication between man and his fellow, even with his own family. The Jewish Sabbath, during which the use of electronic devices is outlawed, breaks down the wall of silence and supports building bonds between spouses and family members.

Hearing the song reminded me of our discussion of a few weeks ago on Narnian Astronomy. In that post we characterized the music of the spheres as praises of God played by the Heavenly orbs as they follow His laws of physics. Even a prophet of the stature of Joshua cannot command the spheres to silence their music without singing God’s praises in their stead. Silencing the praise of God, is not permissible. The negative aspect of silence in Simon and Garfunkel's song builds a wall that will block the music of the spheres thus causing a lapse in the praise of God. This encouraged me to think more generally about the roles of silence and noise in the Chronicles of Narnia and other works of C.S. Lewis. That got me thinking about how Judaism portrays these phenomena. Below (and subsequent posts) is an attempt to piece together what that may look like.

Lewis’ most evocative statement on silence in the Chronicles of Narnia is found in The Voyage of the Dawn Treader. The most dangerous of the islands visited by the ship the Dawn Treader and her crew, is the Dark Island. The Dark Island, as they are soon to learn, is the island where dreams (not daydreams, dreams) come true. As the Dawn Treader attempts to row away and escape the island, we are told that, “Though the rowing made a good deal of noise it did not quite conceal the total silence which surrounded the ship.” The silence of the island and its surroundings is foreboding, even threatening. It is waiting to be filled, with each man’s dreams. Those dreams, the ones we wake up from sweating and scared, the ones that will not allow us to fall back asleep. The ones against which we use whatever distractions we can in hopes of drowning them out of our thoughts. Those dreams are lurking behind the silence, menacing at the passengers on the Dawn Treader. And, however hard the crew tries to concentrate on the rowing, the only noise at their disposal, it is insufficient to block out the silence.

Yet, in another part of the Chronicles, silence is imperative for religious contemplation and realization of truth. Edmund, for instance, in The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe, needed silence to internalize the truth of Aslan’s good and the Witch’s evil. After separating from his siblings and seeking solace in the house of the White Witch, Edmund is forced to ride with her in attempt to capture his siblings. It is during that ride that winter which has for so long gripped Narnia, miraculously and suddenly begins to transform into Spring. This causes a thaw, making it almost impossible for the reindeer to pull the sleigh. The Witch's dwarf, who is attempting to drive the reindeer in the melting snow, resorts to whipping and shouting, but eventually the sleigh is stuck fast. When that realization hits, for one moment there was silence. “In that silence Edmund could at last listen to the other noise properly.” Until that point Edmund hears and sees spring all around him but cannot internalize its true meaning. Only in the moment of silence can Edmund hear the truth.

This positive aspect of contemplative silence is also addressed by Lewis in the Screwtape Letters. Right at the beginning, in Letter 1, Screwtape, an important tempter of humans, tells of a "patient" of his who, while reading quietly in the British Museum, started rethinking his atheist beliefs. There, in the silence of the library Screwtape suddenly saw his hard work begin to topple. In the silence, the man was beginning to contemplate God, he was beginning to internalize the truth! A possible counter for Screwtape would have been to argue intellectually and philosophically against the existence of God. However, there was a much easier way - remove the silence! So, he suggested that it was time for lunch, leading the man back to “real life” and away from the silence. This convinced the patient that, “whatever odd ideas might come into a man’s head when he was shut up alone with his books, a healthy dose of ‘real life’ (by which he meant the bus and the newsboy) was enough to show him that all ‘that sort of thing’ just couldn’t be true.” In fact, ‘real life’ was the distraction, what is truly important can only be heard in silence.

Lewis returns to this theme even more explicitly in Letter 22. Wormwood’s patient has fallen in love with a Christian woman and her home and garden are Heavenly in that they are, “regions where there is only life and therefore all that is not music is silence.” Screwtape, of course, wants none of that! “Music and silence — how I detest them both! How thankful we should be that ever since our father entered hell... all has been occupied by noise…”

For Lewis then, silence operates on two planes, one negative, one positive. (1) Silence relaying absence, the passengers on the Dawn Treader hear silence and are dreading what is missing. (2) Silence as a means of hearing something else, Edmund only heard Spring when silence reigned. 

The litmus test of silence is the music of the spheres. Man should always hear the praise of God, the music of the spheres. Sometimes, however, the music can be drowned out by noise, the distractions of the trivialities of everyday life. Sometimes the music can be overcome by silence, when a wall is built separating man from God. Such a silence is terrifying. What fills the silence in place of the music of the spheres?

Calormene Poetry: On Carbuncles and Olive Trees

In our last post on Calormene poetry we analyzed the verse that compares affection towards one's children to soup. Continuing our study, we now analyze the second part of the poet’s verse which bespeaks the value of children, “Offspring are more precious than carbuncles (assumed to be the red precious stone).” Once again this maxim seems reasonable, what can be more valuable than our children? Even precious stones are less valuable than our own offspring! Nevertheless, such an equation is not found in the bible. The bible does utilize precious stones, gold and silver as comparisons for valuable commodities, including wisdom, a good reputation, God’s commandments, and the Torah itself, but not to children.

Before answering why, and analyzing what the bible does compare children to, let us see how this maxim of the Calormene poet is carried out in practice. How do Calormenes treat their children? The Horse and His Boy provides us with a number of examples. Most strikingly we have Aravis, the only daughter of Kidrash Tarkaan, and great-great granddaughter of Ilsombreh Tisroc. Aravis was betrothed by her father to the Grand Vizier of Carolmen, Ahoshta Tarkaan. Ahoshta is far older than Aravis, is ugly (at least according to Aravis), and appears to already be married (or at least has children from another woman). While, perhaps, some Calormene girls would accept this marriage, Aravis is not interested and decides to escape to Narnia. Why did Kidrash Tarkaan agree to marry Aravis to a man she clearly does not desire and even despises? Obviously to align himself with Ahoshta who holds a powerful position and is very wealthy. Is Aravis more precious than carbuncles in the eyes of her father? Likely yes, but while carbuncles and daughters are valuable, they both have a price. In the mind of Kidrash Tarkaan alignment with Ahoshta is a price worth paying for a daughter.

Second, we have Rabadash, the crown prince to Calormen. As his father’s heir we presume that he is certainly valuable in his father’s eyes. Yet, when presented with a plan that will expand the Tisroc's kingdom to Archenland and perhaps Narnia, but at the risk of his son’s life, the Tisroc accepts. After all, he notes, he has eighteen other sons. Apparently the Tisroc’s son also has a price, the possibility of expanding the power of the Tisroc.

Finally, we have Shasta himself. While not a biological son to Arsheesh, only a truly cold-hearted man could not love a child he raised from the time it was a baby. Yet, neither the Tarkaan Anradin nor Arsheesh himself seem too concerned about pricing Shasta. Arsheesh explains that he saved Shasta first because, “the gods never fail to reward those who befriend the destitute.” Only after that does he note that he is a compassionate man. Anradin responds to this assertion by declaring that the gods have rewarded him and that Arsheesh has, “had ten times the worth of his daily bread out of him in labour.” Thus, he can now part with the boy. The conversation continues but the message is clear, no one, not even Shasta himself, feels too badly about Arsheesh pricing his adopted son and negotiating over him as if he was a carbuncle.

To what does the bible compare children? The psalmist (Psalms 127:4) regards children as arrows in the hands of a warrior, and (Psalms 128:3) as olive saplings around one’s table. The comparison to arrows accentuates that children will assist a parent in battle against their enemies. In this view, children are not simply precious items, but a parent’s most loyal partner and reliable defender. Whether the battle is physical or spiritual, children represent, in the most concrete way, an assurance that the truths and ideals being fought for will continue to live on.

The comparison of children to an olive sapling emphasizes that children grow, mature, and bear fruit like a young tree. This continued evolution of children is unlike carbuncles and other precious stones which are static and only increase in value when acted on by outside forces (market forces or a jeweler). Carbuncles thus have a set worth and can be sold for a given value, though it may be high. Children have infinite worth because they bring joy, happiness, and eventually grandchildren and great-grandchildren.

The Carlomene poet who authored the verse declaring offspring more precious than carbuncles sounds reasonable. However, once again the poet gets it wrong. First, the comparison of children to precious stones is misguided. Calormene behavior in The Horse and His Boy demonstrate that children may have value more than carbuncles, but are still sold for the right price. Second, the poet invokes an incorrect comparison. Wisdom and a good name are items that can be acquired (and lost) by properly (or improperly) utilizing money. Children have value of a different sort. They are at the same time self-perpetuating sources of joy and happiness and also a continuation and defender of one’s values and ideals.

Pre-Commemorating Christmas

It looked just as if he had been doing his Christmas shopping

The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe

Christmas, and Father Christmas, play a highly symbolic role in The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe. Analyzing that story and its message of hope, redemption, and the wheel of fortune, will require many posts and will have to wait until next year. At present, I would like to examine the first time Christmas is mentioned in The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe. It appears in a descriptive and almost nonchalant fashion. Yet its mere mention can teach us of the fundamental nature of redemption.

The first creature Lucy Pevensie meets when she enters the world of Narnia through the wardrobe is the faun Tumnus. Tumnus is described in great detail: his appearance, what he is wearing, and what he is holding. Curiously, the faun is holding something very unusual for fauns, known in Narnia for music and dance: several brown-paper parcels. In fact, describes Lewis, “it looked just as if he had been doing his Christmas shopping.”

This description is rather odd as, presumably, Tumnus was not doing his Christmas shopping. He later tells Lucy that the White Witch has cast a spell over Narnia making it, “Always winter, and never Christmas.” We never actually learn what is in the parcels Tumnus is holding. If so, why the gratuitous mention of Christmas? Why does Lewis describe Tumnus as shopping for a Holiday which Tumnus himself understands will never come?

Two biblical vignettes, interpreted by the Jewish Sages, may shed light on this description.

1) Two men (understood to be angels), having recently been guests at the home of Abraham, enter the evil city of Sodom with orders from God to utterly destroy it and its environs. They are met by Lot, the nephew of Abraham. Lot invites them to his home and serves them matza, the bread of affliction of which Jews are commanded to eat on the night of Passover. Our Sages teach that this was appropriate because that evening was actually (on the calendar) the night of Passover. In fact, our Sages insist that Abraham also served the men matza for the same reason. Of course, the Israelite redemption from Egypt for which Passover is celebrated would not happen for several centuries. So, why eat matza?

2) As Isaac prepares to bless his eldest son Esau before death, Rebecca insists that her younger son Jacob disguise himself as his brother in order to receive Isaac’s blessing. She commands Jacob to bring two goats so that she can prepare food for Isaac. Could Isaac really eat two goats? Why is one not enough?

Our Sages give two explanations: (1) the two goats symbolize the two goats that would eventually play a central role in the Yom Kippur (Day of Atonement) ritual, (2) one goat was for the Passover sacrifice and one was for the meal. Again, the events which Passover commemorates were yet to happen. The concept of Yom Kippur as a day of repentance had not yet come to the world. How can there be symbolism or celebration of events and ideas that have yet to occur?

Certain concepts and ideas are inherent in Creation. Man must be given the opportunity to repent his sins. Redemption and the triumph of good over evil must have its time. The fact that these ideals, repentance and redemption, had not at the times of Abraham and Isaac, yet been manifest in their fullest form chronologically, is irrelevant to their celebration and commemoration. Abraham, Lot, and Rebecca, did not know of the future events which would lead to Passover and Yom Kippur, but their actions were anyway guided towards commemoration of those events because the ideals behind them are timeless.

The same is true with Tumnus the faun. Tumnus had no inkling that on that particular evening he would initiate the events that would lead to long hoped-for triumph of good over evil in Narnia. Nonetheless, the concept of redemption was already promised and was integral to the being of Narnia. Tumnus, due to his sterling character and ultimate destiny, reflects this timeless truth. Why he went shopping that particular evening is irrelevant. His actions were guided by his internal compass that told him that redemption would occur and he must prepare. In this way Tumnus could commemorate Christmas, symbolizing the Narnian redemptive process, even before it happens.

(Photo by K. Mitch Hodge on Unsplash)

Calormene Poetry: On Soup

We have already had occasion to examine part of the conversation between Arsheesh and the Tarkaan Anradin. Let us now look at the initial salvo in that debate. Arsheesh initially refuses to sell Shasta to the Tarkaan due to the (false) fact that Shasta is his son. As support as to why this should stand in the way of the sale, Arsheesh quotes the poets who observes that, “Natural affection is stronger than soup, and offspring more precious than carbuncles.” The verse speaks of two concepts, the affection a parent has for a child and the value of a child to a parent. This affection is observed to be very strong, even stronger than soup. A child is also very valuable and thus not generally available for sale.

Why does Lewis compare the affection of a child to soup? True there are some soups that may be termed strong, but it is doubtful that soup is one’s first thought when describing strength!

One possibility, in line with the identification of the Carlomenes with the Ottoman Turks, is that it is apparently customary in Turkey to have soup at the iftar meal, the evening meal that breaks the daily Ramadan fast. Certainly, after a long fast, one would look with affection at such soup. The point of the verse is that affection for children is stronger than even the affection one may have for food when ravenously hungry.

However, perhaps Lewis had something else in mind. The term "souperism" was coined during the Irish Great Famine and referred to a missionizing attempt in which Protestant schools were established and fed starving children on conditioned that they be instructed in the Protestant religion. As can be imagined, this was anathema to Catholic families who saw this as having to abandon faith for food. In this context, soup is symbolic of an enticement used to weaken one’s religious sensibilities.

Indeed, in the Chronicles are Narnia soup is introduced to play the role of the enticer. Soup is found three times in The Silver Chair, once at a meal is Cair Paravel, once when describing what one might think of upon seeing Harfang, and once at a meal in Harfang. In all three cases, the soup is meant to keep Jill and Eustace where they are, and stop them from completing their mission.

Soup is also used in one of Trumpkin’s expletives in Prince Caspian. Specifically, when Master Cornelius suggests escaping to Aslan’s How, Trumpkin rejects the reliance on ‘fairy tales’ exclaiming, “Soup and celery! I wish our leaders would think less about these old wives' tales and more about victuals and arms." (Soup is also mentioned in The Voyage of the Dawn Treader as part of the meal Caspian and his party ate with the Dufflepuds when they were still invisible. In that context, however, it seems to just be a way of emphasizing how messy the meal was).

With this we now turn back to the Carlomene poet who states that affection of children is even stronger than that of soup. Now, perhaps, the affection is too strong! The poet is suggesting that love for children should be stronger than that of one’s faith, while Abraham, in his willingness to sacrifice his son Isaac, demonstrates just the opposite. Once again, the Carlomene poet sounds reasonable, but, in fact, misunderstands true virtue.

Calormene Poetry: On Love Versus Desire

In the last post, I suggested that Calormene poetic verses, which appear to be maligned by Lewis, both in form (maxims and apophthegms) and content appear to have biblical parallels especially in the books of Proverbs and Ecclesiastes. If so, why does Lewis appear dismissive of it? The answer will depend on the exact verse. In the last post we studied a Calormene verse which correctly proclaimed that wisdom is more important than strength. Presumably Lewis himself would agree with this declaration. However, the context in which the verse was invoked is inappropriate. In that context the verse suggests that business negotiations are a form of competitiveness and war. While this may appear true in some instances, the ideal is to ensure that both parties believe the exchange was fair and walk away happy. Given the disparity in social status between the Tarkaan and Arsheesh, and the technique of bargaining in which both sides attempt to ‘win,’ this is an impossibility. Thus Lewis’ disdain is merited.

Our next Calormene maxim appears later in Shasta’s story. Shasta’s escape from the house of Arsheesh and the clutches of the Tarkaan Anradin is detailed in the chapters of “The Horse and His Boy.” We will not delve into the adventure itself and only provide the background necessary for our next piece of Calormene poetry.

After much adventure, the readers find themselves in the palace of the Tisroc, the Calormene emperor, in the capital city of Tashbaan. The Tisroc (may he live forever?) is in secret council with his eldest son Rabadash, and his Grand Vizier Ahoshta. Rabadash is to present a plan to conquer Archenland from where he can ride into Narnia to kidnap Susan, one of the Pevensie children now grown up, and take her as his wife. Triggered by the escape of Susan from Tashbaan, he first spends time lamenting his fate. In the midst of his rant, Ahoshta pops his head up from the carpet (where he has prostrated himself in honor of the Tisroc) and quotes the poet:

Deep draughts from the fountain of reason are desirable in order to extinguish the fire of youthful love. 

Rabadash does not take well to this observation and rages at Ahoshta, “Dog! Do not dare to quote the poets to me. I have had maxims and verses flung at me all day and I can endure them no more."

We pause here to note a certain irony, Ahoshta references a maxim about love. This apparently contradicts Ahoshta’s later assertion as to the inferiority of Narnian poetry which is all about “love and war” as opposed to Calormene poetry which is “full of choice apophthegms and useful maxims.” The difference, of course, is that presumably Narnian poetry speaks in praise of love, as opposed to the Calormene maxim which coldly advocates the extinguishing love.

More importantly, however, is the mischaracterization of Rabadash’s feelings for Susan as love. Rabadash never claims to love Susan. He wants her, he must have her, and he will die if he does not get her, but he does not say that he loves her! Later in the conversation, when making a contingency plan should Rabadash be captured by the Narnians, Ahoshta advises that the Tisroc say that Rabadash acted out of love for Susan. In reality, however, he does not love Susan. In another context (“The Four Loves”) Lewis might suggest that Rabadash loves himself and the pleasure he would achieve from Susan’s beauty. Like the poetry quoted by Arsheesh in the last post, Ahoshta's maxim is inappropriate for the situation at hand.

However, looking more closely, we see that Ahoshta’s maxim is not only inapplicable, but also incorrect. The maxim advocates for extinguishing the fire's of love. Why would anyone suggest that?! Engagement in "true" love, love that is imbued with God-like charity, imitates God Himself and is a strong positive force in our world. It is not the fires of love that should be extinguished, but the fires of lust! The Calormene substitution of love for lust demonstrates their inability to understand or experience true love, and therefore, the centrality of greed and arrogance in their culture. 

With that in mind, we can identify a proper biblical parallel to our Calormene maxim. In the seventh chapter of Proverbs, King Solomon advises, “Say to wisdom, you are my sister, and call understanding a kinswoman, to guard you from a strange woman, from a foreigner who is smooth-talking.” The verses go on as if the author sees the woman approaching and seducing a man in the marketplace. Most of the commentators explain these verses on their most straightforward level, wisdom and understanding (deep draughts from the fountain of reason) are necessary to combat the lust enflamed by the enticement of the strange woman. Unlike the Calormene poetry, the biblical verse gets it right.

Calormene Poetry: On War and Wisdom

The preeminent superpower in the world of Narnia is Calormen. Located across the Great Desert to the south of Archenland (which is south of Narnia), the dress, class hierarchy, and other aspects of Calormene society appear to reflect that of the Ottoman Empire. Indeed, if we are to cast Narnia as the Holy Land, ruled by Christian true believers, there is logic in casting their enemy as the foremost Islamic Empire of the Middle Ages. However, there is a fundamental religious divide between monotheistic Islam and the polytheistic Calormene religion whose chief god has a much greater resemblance a god of the Hindus (I personally think that Lewis inserts the Islamic features of Calormene as a smokescreen for the true enemy that Calormen represents, but that’s for another post). Whatever the mold used for Calormen, Lewis had a lot to say about their culture.

While clearly dismissive of certain aspects of Calormene society, such as its religion, Lewis endows Calormen with beauty and magnificence. Its people respect their elders and can display bravery and honor. Lewis appears to have an especially high-regard for Calormene storytelling. In The Horse and His Boy, Lewis remarks that, “in Calormen, story-telling is a thing you're taught, just as English boys and girls are taught essay-writing. The difference is that people want to hear the stories, whereas I never heard of anyone who wanted to read the essays.” This should not be dismissed as a minor point given the fundamental values Lewis himself is not attempting to transmit via stories.

However, Lewis does not appear to think much of Calormene poetry. Calormene poetry is, in the words of Ahoshta the Grand Vizier of Calormen, “full of choice apophthegms and useful maxims.” This is in contrast to Narnian poetry which is, “all of love and war.” Thus, Aravis and Cor, the main human characters in The Horse and His Boy, who were both raised in Calormen, “prepare to be bored” upon hearing they would be entertained by an Archenland poet.

Lewis’ dismissal of Calormene poetry is somewhat surprising. After all, fully two books of the Bible (what Lewis would have called the Old Testament), Proverbs and Ecclesiastes, are made up of those same apophthegms and maxims. In fact, some of the maxims found in Calormene poetry encompass ideas similar to those found in biblical poetry!

The book of the Chronicles of Narnia in which the most Calormene poetry is found is The Horse and His Boy. The story centers around Shasta, the lost prince of Archenland who was raised by a poor Calormene fisherman named Arsheesh. Arsheesh takes Shasta in as a foundling but treats him little better than a slave. One day, a Tarkaan (Calormene nobleman) takes lodging at the hut of Arsheesh. Apparently impressed with Shasta, he decides to buy him resulting in a long negotiation the recorded part of which includes quotations of a number of Calromene apophthegms and maxims. In the meantime, Shasta looks to the Tarkaan's horse as a source of information about life in the house of the Tarkaan. Of course, were the horse of the typical Calormene variety he could not tell him. However, it turns out that the horse is actually of Narnian descent and does actually talk! The horse, Bree, and Shasta decide to flee and attempt to reach Narnia. Thus begins their adventures. 

Turning back to the poetry, let us take a look at some of the quoted Calormene poetry from the exchange between Arsheesh and Tarkaan and see how it matches up with biblical poetry.

Swords can be kept off with shields but the Eye of Wisdom pierces through every defense. (The Horse and His Boy)

This line of Calormene poetry is quoted by Arsheesh to the Takaan who has just informed him of his intention to buy Shasta. Arsheesh initially attempts to pass Shasta off as his own son. The Tarkaan, of course, sees right through the attempt given the obvious difference in skin color between the two. Caught, Arsheesh quotes the above aphorism. There is no actual war taking place, nonetheless this maxim is used by Arsheesh to acknowledge the wisdom of the Tarkaan.

In the ninth chapter of Ecclesiastes the author (traditionally assumed to be King Solomon, the wisest of all men) sets out the following parable. A small city with few people is attacked by a great king. The king surrounds to the city which clearly does not have the strength and resources to withstand a siege. Surprisingly, the city is saved thanks to the wisdom of a poor man who, before this event, no one ever cared about (other commentaries say that the city could have been saved but was not because the people did not value the advice of the man since he was poor).

The lesson of this parable is clear; wisdom is, mistakenly, not valued when compared to externals such as wealth and beauty. As is their way, the Sages attempt to identify the historical circumstance on which this parable is modelled. Three are suggested: Jacob preparing to fight against his brother Esau, the wise woman who saves the city of Abel Beth-Ma’acha from the siege of Joab (King David’s general) during the revolt of Sheba ben Bichri, and Hezekiah who saves Jerusalem from the siege of the Assyrian King Sennacherib.

Returning to Ecclesiastes, in the next couple of verses the comparative value of wisdom is stated more explicitly, “Wisdom is better than strength,” and “Wisdom is better than weapons of war.” These verses are very much of the same mind as that quoted by Arsheesh. Why would Lewis look down on Calormene poetry if the biblical lesson is so similar?

Perhaps one point that may have been troublesome to Lewis with respect to this particular maxim is the context in which it is used. There is no real war. There is only a negotiation for a commodity (Shasta). Nonetheless, Calormene society treats the medium of bargaining as a war. Bargaining is a competition in which there is a winner and a loser. This is a sub-optimal way of commerce and bespeaks a troubled society. A better system would be one of fair exchange. The seller sets a price and the buyer chooses whether of not to buy it. In this way both parties would walk away happy. But the warlike Calormenes must make everything a competition and thus the appropriateness of a warlike maxims. 

But He's Good: Creation and Action

'Course He Isn't Safe, But He's Good

The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe

In the last post we put into context the concept of goodness in contrast to safety. God, according to Lewis, is not safe but He is good. Lewis emphasizes this theme again in The Silver Chair. Eustace and Jill entered an as of yet unidentified. Eustace accidently falls off an immensely high cliff and Jill is left alone. Dying of thirst, she is about to approach a stream of water, when she notices the Lion (Aslan, whom she does not yet know). Understandably concerned for her safety, Jill asks Aslan to promise not to do anything to her. Alsan refuses and Jill desperately asks whether he eats girls. To this Aslan replies: "I have swallowed up girls and boys, women and men, kings and emperors, cities and realms." Aslan does not guarantee safety! But, he is good.

As demonstrated in the last post, only God is capable of knowing what is ultimately good as only He has the breadth of vision to ascertain goodness. Humans may perceive an occurrence as good or bad, but cannot be aware of the future reactions to the occurrence. The Talmudic Sages highlighted this very theme via both concepts and stories. The midrash, commenting on God’s declaration that the whole of Creation is “Very good,” asserts that some perhaps unsavory aspects of Creation are indeed included in this declaration. Examples of this are the evil inclination (desire or lust), undue hardships, hell, and the Angel of Death. Though seemingly bad, all of these concepts play a vital role in Creation, which could not be “very good” without them. Let us see how the Talmudic Sages viewed these aspects of our world.

The evil inclination is necessary for without it, no person would build a house, marry, have children or go into business. The midrash here observes that people do all sorts of things to fulfill their desires, in a quest for honor and power, and wealth. These are all motivated by the evil inclination. Yet, this same motivation, properly channeled, entices man to take action that is positive and constructive. Without the evil inclination these ventures would not be undertaken at all. Creation would then not be “very good.”

Undue hardships are necessary, continues the midrash, because through them people achieve life in the World to Come. The commentaries offer two explanations as to why this is the case. First, through hardships one learns how to live properly in this world and thus merit life in the World to Come. Second, the hardships are thrust upon a person as a method of cleansing him or her of their transgressions and attaining forgiveness. In this way when the person is ready to enter the World to Come only good will remain. Either way, while the hardships may appear evil to us, God sends them knowing they will help man achieve the ultimate good. 

Finally, Hell (and thus Heaven) and the Angel of Death are necessary for Creation to be “very good” as a motivation for people to do what is right and good. Without the threat of punishment (and promise of reward) and death people would not act in a proper fashion. The threat of punishment and death may seem bad, but its goal is to help people achieve good.

The Talmud also demonstrates through story that what may initially seem bad can be for the good. In this way we are urged to keep at the forefront of our mind that whatever happens is for good. The first story is that of Nachum Ish Gam Zu who was sent as a representative of the Jewish community to deliver a gift to the Caeser. On his way he stopped at an inn and indiscreetly told of his mission. The people of the inn stole the gift and filled the box with dirt. Upon reaching the Caeser, Nachum Ish Gamzu presented the gift which was opened and, of course, the Caeser was insulted. He immediately ordered that Nachum Ish Gam Zu be put to death, to which Nachum replied, “This is also for good.” Suddenly, Elijah the Prophet appeared disguised as one of the officers of the Caeser. He suggested that perhaps this is of the same dirt used by Abraham the forefather of the Jews in his war against the four powerful kings. When that dirt was thrown it immediately transformed into swords and arrows. The Caeser agreed that it was worth a shot and it worked! Full of gratitude, the Caeser filled the box of Nachum Ish Gam Zu with gold and sent him on his way. Upon reaching the (same) inn, he relayed all that had happened to him. The thieves then took more of the same dirt to the Caeser, but this time it did not have the same abilities. The Caeser felt foolish and had these people put to death.

A second story features R’ Akiva who was once travelling with a rooster, and donkey and a candle. He stopped in a village and sought lodging, but no one was willing to take him in. He exclaimed, “Whatever God does is for good,” and camped out in the wilderness. As night came the wind started up and blew out his candle. Then a cat came and ate his rooster. Finally a lion ate his donkey. Unperturbed, R’ Akiva merely shrugged and said, “Whatever God does is for good.” That night bandits came and took the people of the village hostage. However, because R’ Akiva had no light or animals, he was not seen or heard. His loss saved from sharing the fate of the inhabitants of the village.

In both of these tales the Talmud warns against the mistake of jumping to hasty conclusions. It would certainly have been understandable if both Nachum and R’ Akiva had bemoaned their unfortunate fate. However, because both understood that God has a longer and more global view, they were able to exhibit patience until the ordeal played itself out. Of course, it is not always that we get to see the ultimate good that God may have in store. Nonetheless, we are urged to trust that God may not be safe, but He is certainly good.

One further point should be made with respect to Mr. Beaver’s (Lewis’) formulation. The complete quote of his statement is, “But he’s good. He’s the King, I tell you.” Why emphasize again that Aslan is King? I believe this is done to stress our primary teaching: only God, before whom all of nature bows, can know what will ultimately be good. The Talmud again accentuates this point. Reacting to the verse in Zechariah which declares, “On that day God will be One,” the Talmud marvels, “Is He not One nowadays?” To this the Talmud responds, the World to Come is unlike our world. In our world we bless God when we hear good tidings saying, “Blessed is He, who is good and does good to others.” However, when we hear bad tidings we bless God saying, “Blessed in He the true judge.” In the World to Come all will be, “Who is good and does good to others.” When God is recognized by all as the true king, we will see that all of His actions are for good, and respond appropriately. 

But He's Good: Aslan

'Course He Isn't Safe, But He's Good

The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe

What are the dominant characteristics that we attribute to God?

Certainly there are many possibilities. The bible records that God Himself enumerated 13 Attributes of Mercy which are, in part or as a whole, invoked by later prophets. These include that He is merciful, gracious, slow to anger and so on. We may turn to the amidah the center of the Jewish prayer service in which we praise God as, “great, mighty, and awesome.” But, perhaps an even more dominant trait, one that appears throughout the bible, is that God is good.

The Psalmist calls out to the crowd that has gathered to praise God with the opening, “Praise the Lord, for He is good, for his kindness is everlasting.” Indeed, at pivotal moments of Jewish history, great leaders have utilized this exhortation. King David calls upon his people to praise God when he brings the Ark of the Covenant to the capital city of Jerusalem using this same verse. When his son, King Solomon, brings the Ark into his newly built Temple, it is with these very words that God’s presence becomes apparent. Many years later Jeremiah, at the moment when the Babylonians are besieging Jerusalem, about to fulfill the prophecies of doom which he himself delivered, comforts Israel:

So says the Lord, there will again be heard in this place… in the cities of Judea and the courtyards of Jerusalem that are desolate without men, without inhabitants, and without animals: the voice of happiness, the voice of rejoicing, the voice of the groom, the voice of the bride, the voice of those who say, “Praise God the Lord of Lord of Hosts, for the Lord is good, for His kindness is everlasting!” (Jeremiah 33:10-11)

Finally, upon laying the foundation for the second Temple, the priests and Levites sang in praise of God, for He is good for His kindness is everlasting.

Indeed, God’s goodness is so integral that it was fully imbued in our world. In the first chapter of Genesis, God sees each item he has created and declares it good, and when creation is complete he declares it very good.

What is goodness? A child may think that eating candy instead of vegetables is good because the child appreciates the sweet taste of the candy. Adults, however, are charged with restraining a child from acting this way. Adults understand that such goodness is fleeting and, ultimately, will not provide true goodness. Taking this argument to its logical conclusion we must realize that only God has a fully expansive and utterly comprehensive knowledge and vision. Thus, it is only He who can determine what is truly good. While mere humans may regard a particular event as good, bad or dangerous, only God can properly characterize the goodness of any occurence.

This lesson of determining ultimate goodness is one of the first taught to the Pevensie children during their adventures in Narnia. As the Beavers prepare them to meet the mysterious Aslan we find the following back-and-forth.

[Mr. Beaver] “I tell you he is the King of the wood and the son of the great Emperor-beyond-the-Sea. Don't you know who is the King of Beasts? Aslan is a lion - the Lion, the great Lion."
"Ooh!" said Susan, "I'd thought he was a man. Is he - quite safe? I shall feel rather nervous about meeting a lion."
"That you will, dearie, and no mistake," said Mrs Beaver; "if there's anyone who can appear before Aslan without their knees knocking, they're either braver than most or else just silly."
"Then he isn't safe?" said Lucy.
"Safe?" said Mr. Beaver; "don't you hear what Mrs Beaver tells you? Who said anything about safe? 'Course he isn't safe. But he's good. He's the King, I tell you."

Aslan is not safe because safety implies that nothing will occur that you perceive as bad or dangerous. But he’s good and only under his guidance can the ultimate good be achieved. This contrast between safe and good has been the kernel of many a Christian sermon. I particularly like this one from Pastor Robert Marsh, especially as he reaches out to comfort those who may not feel particularly safe during “The Most Wonderful Time of the Year.” However, centuries ago the Talmudic Sages told stories and taught lessons emphasizing this very theme. We will explore some of these in our next post.

Narnian Astronomy: What a Star Is

“In our world,” said Eustace, “a star is a huge ball of flaming gas.”

“Even in your world, my son, that is not what a star is but only what it is made of…”

(The Voyage of the Dawn Treader)

In the tenth chapter of the book of Joshua we read of the war between Israel and the five Emorite kings who inhabited the southern part of the land of Canaan. God supports Israel and they achieve a great military victory. In order to provide Israel time to chase and destroy the retreating Emorites, Joshua commands, “Sun in Givon be silent (stop), and Moon in the Valley of Ayalon!” By halting the sun and moon in their usual track across the Heavens, Joshua provides light for the Jewish army to hunt down the fleeing Emorites.

Our Sages in the midrash comment on the utilization of the word “silent” to mean stop moving across the sky. The midrash states:

Joshua wanted to silence the sun. He did not say to sit, “Sun in Givon stand still,” rather, “Sun in Givon be silent!” Why did [Joshua] say, “Be silent!”? At all times when the sun moves, it praises God,” and the whole time it praises, it has the power to move. Therefore, Joshua told [the sun] to be silent… The Sun said to Joshua, “You are decreeing upon me that I should be silent?” He said to it, “Yes.” The Sun replied, “And who will sing the praises of God?” Joshua said, “You be silent and I will sing the praises of God.” 

In midrashic lore, the sun, as it follows the laws of physics, sings the praises of God, what we might call the music of the spheres. Were it to abstain from following those laws, the music would stop. Therefore, Joshua can only order this miracle if he himself takes the responsibility to sing the praises of God in the sun’s place. The midrash, then, sees in the luminous bodies, not just as man’s timepieces, but creations that sing as they serve God by following His laws.

Returning then to our original question, “What is a star?” the answer would be servants of God that sing His praises as they follow His laws.

Elsewhere, the Psalmist advances another view of the luminous bodies:

My soul blesses the Lord; the Lord, my God, You are very great. You are clothed in Splendor and Majesty. You robe Yourself in light, you spread the heavens like a tent. (Psalms 104:1-2)

There are two seemingly opposing views in the classical commentaries as to the explanation of this verse. R’ David Kimchi explains that the spheres created by God serve to clothe Him, and from their glory one glimpses the glory of the Creator. R’ Abraham ibn Ezra disagrees. He makes the following analogy: just like clothes serve to cover a person from the view of others, so to the splendor of the Heavens serve to cover God from view. Rather than demonstrating the greatness of the Creator, the spheres actually hide it. Which position is correct?

I think it is clear that it depends on who is looking. There are those who look towards Heaven and do not see God. Instead they see the sun, the moon and the stars following the laws of physics. No doubt there is glory in the grand scale of space and people are entranced with the beauty of the heavens. But to such people, this glory serves to hide God. Others look to the Heavens and see the sun, moon, and stars dancing through the Heavens to the music of the spheres. They also see that these Heavenly bodies follow the laws of physics and are awed by their intricacy. But to such people the splendor created by these laws are a song, and the song is in praise of God. 

Narnian Astronomy: The Purpose of the Stars

“In our world,” said Eustace, “a star is a huge ball of flaming gas.”

“Even in your world, my son, that is not what a star is but only what it is made of…”

(The Voyage of the Dawn Treader)

Humanity’s relationship to the stars has evolved significantly over the millenium. Certainly, the scientific approach of the past few centuries has offered us great insight into what a star “is made of” based on mechanics, electromagnetism, astronomy, cosmology, nuclear and particle physics. Nonetheless, the pre-scientific perspective of our ancestors may provide more insight into what a star is, rather than what it is made of.

Maimonides asserts that the awe felt by early man when looking at the Heavens, led them to idol worship. At the time of Enosh (Adam’s grandson) humanity reasoned as follows. God created the stars to guide our world, and honored them by placing them in the heavens to serve Him. Therefore, we too should praise and honor the stars. After all, were a king to appoint an officer, it would be the king’s will that the people honor the officer. So too, since God appointed the stars as his officer’s, we who honor God should honor the stars. As time went by, however, false prophets arose telling people that God had commanded them to bring sacrifices and perform service to the various stars. As the service to the stars became even more ingrained, false prophets arose saying that a particular star had come to him and is requiring from man a specific type of worship. This continued until eventually the true God was completely forgotten.

The concept introduced at the time of Enosh, that the stars who serve God should themselves be honored, led to a slippery slope that, at its nadir, resulted in total ignorance of the true God. Yet, without question, God did create the stars, sun, and planets. Was this done directly to serve Him or are these heavenly bodies created to serve man?

The creation story in the first chapter of Genesis records the creation of the sun, moon, and stars on the fourth day. The rationale given for the creation of the sun and the moon is, (Genesis 1:14-15) “To separate the day from the night; and they should be as signs for set times, and for days and years. And they should be sources of light in the sky to shine upon the earth.” From this description it would seem that the sun and moon were created as timepieces and luminaries to serve (as of yet created) man. Upon actual creation the verse also notes that these luminous bodies (and the stars) dominate or rule over the day and the night. There is no hint that they were created to serve God.

The Psalmist, however, explicitly calls to the sun, moon and stars (as well as the rest of creation) to sing in praise of God. 

Praise Him all of His angels; Praise Him all of His Host
Praise Him sun and moon; Praise Him all stars of light
Praise Him highest of heavens, and the water that is above the heavens (Psalms 148:2-4)

From the Psalm it certainly appears that the stars and other Heavenly bodies do sing praises to God. Perhaps there is a way we can synthesize these two approaches...

Narnian Astronomy: What Stars are Made Of

“In our world,” said Eustace, “a star is a huge ball of flaming gas.”

“Even in your world, my son, that is not what a star is but only what it is made of…”

(The Voyage of the Dawn Treader)

Throughout the Chronicles we learn much about the Narnian stars. The stars of Narnia were grouped into constellations such as the Leopard and the Ship. They sing the music of the spheres which, at the dawn of creation, was audible to man and beast. The dance of the Stars as they traverse the upper sky also indicates coming events, and their message could be divined by centaurs and other creatures wise in astrology. Perhaps most importantly we learn that Narnian stars are sentient beings who can take on human form.

In “The Voyage of the Dawn Treader” the crew and passengers on the Dawn Treader meet two stars in their human form. Due to what he perceives as a sharp contrast between our world and the Narnian one, Eustace demonstrates particular surprise upon realizing that what he perceived as a human was actually a star. “In our world,” said Eustace, “a star is a huge ball of flaming gas.” Stars in our world are not alive, they do not think, and they do not sing to their Creator as the star Ramandu (now in human form) certainly does.

However, Ramandu, speaking for Lewis, disagrees. “Even in your world, my son, that is not what a star is but only what it is made of…” A star is made of flaming gas, but that does not speak to its essence. This assertion raises the obvious question: if, in Lewis’ view, a star is only composed of flaming gas but that does not actually define its nature, what is a star?

We will return to this question in the next post.