Narnians Without Narnia: Theology

I’m on Aslan’s side even if there isn’t any Aslan to lead it. I’m going to live as like a Narnian as I can even if there isn’t any Narnia. 

Puddleglum the Marshwiggle is, I believe, one of the greatest heroes in the Chronicles of Narnia. Lacking the flair of Reepicheep and the positivity of the Beavers, Puddleglum faces all challenges assuming the worst, and then charges forward anyway. Perhaps the most extreme example of this is when he recites the above quoted lines. Puddleglum’s willingness to side with Aslan and live like a Narnian despite the possibility that they may not exist, is more than just his conclusion of a logical deduction based on the Ontological Argument, it is the acceptance of a covenant with God and morality despite the (possible) non-existence of those concepts in reality. The circumstances which give rise to this declaration are as follows.

The Lady of the Green Kirtle, upon witnessing the attempted escape of Prince Rilian from her evil clutches, seeks to re-enchant Rilian and his would-be rescuers: Puddleglum, Eustace, and Jill. She casts a hypnosis spell by burning an incense which gave off a sweet and drowsy smell, and monotonously strumming on a mandolin-like instrument. Despite the efforts of the protagonists to fight against the hypnosis they are slowly overcome, until Puddleglum makes his sacrifice. With his bare feet, Puddleglum extinguishes most of fire burning the incense thus breaking the enchantment. The sharp pain combined with the dispersion of the enchantment, provides him with a moment of extreme clarity, in which he speaks to the barrenness and helplessness of the witch’s world, ending his speech with the above words.

How are we to understand Puddleglum’s declaration? It could mean, that even though the truth of Aslan and Narnian culture are in doubt, he will follow them anyway because perhaps they are, in fact, true. Given that the world would be much more interesting, moral, exciting, and so forth if there were a God (Aslan) and an objective morality (living as a Narnian) Puddleglum declares he will lean on the side that they do exist. 

Another possible explanation is to suggest that though it can be proven that Aslan and Narnia do not exist, Puddleglum refuses to accept the world in such a state and will make them exist despite proofs to the contrary.

This thought process leads us to contemplate some of the following questions. What would we do if it were proven to us that our religious beliefs were fundamentally flawed? What would Christians do if it could be proven conclusively that Jesus was not God but a human? What would traditional Jews do if it could be proven conclusively that God did not give the Torah to Moses at Sinai? Would we question these conclusive proofs saying that they only seem conclusive due to our own lack of intellectual or spiritual capability? Would we say that we will continue on our path irregardless of proof because we have a lifestyle that brings us joy, (perceived) meaning, and makes us better people (whatever that might mean)? Could our belief perpetuate and make true something that is not?

An example of this latter point: as a Jew, I believe that our nation is eternal. No enemy who sets out to destroy us, no religion who attempts to convert us, and no nation that seeks to assimilate us will ever be completely successful. God promised this to us in the bible and though tested, His promise has always allowed us to survive. Of course, Jews are a notoriously stubborn people. So how much of our survival is God's intervention and how much is our own belief that we are eternal? 

Or maybe it really doesn’t matter too much…

To be continued…

The Sound of Silence: Addendum

Previously, we defined two types of silence:

(1) Silence as a lack of hearing,

(2) Silence allowing for hearing.

We have seen that characters is Narnia experience both types of silence. At times, such as on the Dark Island, they are unable to hear the music of the spheres. Even though there is other noise that their ears of sensitive to, this noise cannot conceal the silence they experience. At other times the silence serves as a means of hearing the music of the spheres. In the silence following the dwarf’s whipping of the White Witch’s reindeer, Edmund is able to perceive the music of the spheres in the spring that has blossomed around him. In both of these definitions the subject him or herself is listening.

The Psalmist, as interpreted by the Sages, speaks to the appropriateness of silence when praising God:

Praise befits You in Zion, O God; vows are paid to You (Psalms 65:2)

The rabbinic reading of this verse differs from the translation above. Specifically, the focus is on the word “befits” (in Hebrew: דומיה), can also be translated as “silence” (in Hebrew: דממה). With that change the first part of the verse becomes:

To you, O God, silence is praise.

The Talmud quotes the words of the Psalmist in the context of limiting the amount of praise one can offer to God. The Talmudic logic is as follows. It is impossible for finite humans to recite all of God’s praises. As formulated in the prayers of Shabbat morning, “Though our mouths were full of Song like the sea… we would be unable to praise You sufficiently...” We must always fall short. However, falling short in praise of the King of Kings borders on blasphemy. Therefore, at least at times, the best strategy is silence.

The importance of silence in Lewis’ work in general, and in the Chronicles of Narnia in particular, is highlighted by Dr. Michael Ward in his monumental work Planet Narnia (of which we will have much more to say in future posts). Ward (page 21) also defines two types of silence: the bad and the good. An example of the bad silence is an astronomical body that does not sing the music of the spheres (Earth, in Lewis’ novel Out of the Silent Planet). The good type of silence is encompassed in the Chronicles of Narnia itself which, as is Ward’s thesis, manifests its most important themes in ways that are not stated.

In Ward’s construction of the Chronicles of Narnia, silence comes to the forefront in The Horse and His Boy the chronicle that manifests Mercury, the god of eloquence and communication. In that book, we find much about language including Narnian and Calormene poetry (of which we have spoken often about on this blog), Calormene storytelling, and Aslan describing himself as “One who has waited long for you to speak.”

Ward notes that in this book Aslan teaches the heroes of the Chronicle, “to speak in a new way, a way that encompasses silence.” This is demonstrated in reaction of Shasta and the other heroes upon meeting Aslan. Shasta “gaped with open mouth and said nothing.” Aravis and the horses, “felt no inclination to talk to one another about his after he [Aslan] had gone.”

Their reaction is similar to the Talmudic one when faced with the responsibility of praising God: silence. This, in Lewis’ description, is a good silence. In our description it is a silence which allows one to contemplate and pay more careful attention to the music of the spheres. When faced with the infinite God, finite humanity (or Narnian horses) realize that no praise or description is appropriate.

Calormene Poetry: On Prosperity

Application to business is the root of prosperity, but those who ask questions that do not concern them are steering the ship of folly towards the rock of indigence

The first piece of Calormene poetry introduced to readers of The Chronicles of Narnia comes at the beginning of The Horse and His Boy. Shasta (the protagonist of this story) often wonders what lies to the north of his home deep in Calormen. Occasionally he formulates his wonder into a question for his step-father Arsheesh. However, Arsheesh "had a very practical mind" and, as what lay to the north in no way affected him, he neither knew, nor cared. If he was in a good mood Arsheesh would discourage Shasta’s curiosity and questions by quoting the above, or some similar, verse of poetry.

We should note that Arsheesh's practical mind, does not appear to be very much appreciated by Lewis. We will have to return to this in a future post.

As we have seen from our previous explorations of Calormene poetry, the poet seems reasonable and practical. If one were to spend all of their time wondering about what was unimportant and irrational rather than concentrating on their work, they would indeed fail. In fact, the bible says something similar:

From all toil there is some gain, but idle chatter is pure loss. (Proverbs 14:23)

Similarly,

He who tills his land shall have food in plenty, but he who pursues vanities is devoid of sense. (Proverbs 12:11) 

From these verses, and others, we see the importance of work, not wasting time on trivialities, and paying attention to what one is doing. The poet seems to have gotten at least the first part of the verse correct: without application to business there will not be prosperity.

However, the poet, or Arsheesh, only tells half of the story. Hard work and diligence are necessary for prosperity, but they are not sufficient for prosperity.

Other verses in Proverbs describe the requisite component:

Fear of God is a fountain of life, enabling one to avoid deadly snares. (Proverbs 14:27)

And,

Entrust your affairs to God, and your plans will succeed. (Proverbs 16:3)

Arsheesh does well to encourage Shasta to pay attention to his work, and not to chase fantasies. However, this alone is insufficient to guarantee prosperity. One cannot succeed without God. Trust and reliance on God are necessary. The importance of God is not conveyed to Shasta at all. It is up to Shasta to learn it on his own.

In the next part of the verse, Arsheesh encourages Shasta not to ask questions. In the godless environment of Asheesh's hut questions, imagination, and dreams are at best irrelevant and at worst dangerous. We will explore in a future post.

The Chronicles of Narnia are the BEST

Great to see Tradition recognize the Chronicles of Narnia as the BEST!

Kudos to the author, Sarah Rindner.

Over the next few months we'll cover a number of the topics that are mentioned in this description some of which I agree with and some of which I do not. Topics to be covered include repentance (Edmund and Eustace), rebellion (Susan), noble enemies, and God's patience. Of course we'll continue exploring Carlomene poetry!

I'll also attempt to answer Why There is No Jewish Narnia.

Finally, keep an eye out for the Spring issue of Tradition which will include my article of Lewis' "The Four Loves" (we'll talk about it after it comes out).

Taking some time to revamp old posts!

New posts coming soon

Update (January 12): revamping complete, preparing new posts
Any suggestions for improvements would be appreciated

The Sound of Silence: Escape

When my eyes were stabbed by the flash of a neon light

That split the night

And touched the sound of silence

• Simon and Garfunkel, “The Sound of Silence”

There was a tiny speck of light ahead, and while they watched a broad beam of light fell from it upon the ship. It did not alter the surrounding darkness, but the whole ship was lit up as if by searchlight.

• C.S. Lewis, “The Voyage of the Dawn Treader”

How does the Dawn Treader escape from the Dark Island?

On a practical level, the ship escapes because they saw a beam of light indicating the way out. They then followed an albatross (which looked like a cross) out of the darkness.

But what caused the beam of light to appear? Why was it not there the whole time? 

The answer is Lucy. Lucy throughout the Chronicles has the most intimate relationship with Aslan. It is she who has a premonition to Aslan's death in The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe. It is she who first sees Aslan when the Pevensie children return to Narnia. It is she who cries bitter tears over never meeting Aslan again when informed she will not return to Narnia. And it is only Lucy who can keep a connection to Aslan through the darkness and silence. 

Only Lucy is not consumed by the visions and dreams. Only Lucy can reach through the darkness and silence and pray to Aslan. The prayer itself makes her feel a little better. After all, nothing has happened yet, the visions are not real! But the prayer also makes a small hole in the darkness and a beam of light shines through. The crew is hypnotized, blinded by the light. Caspian looks and sees the crew in a trance. Only Lucy looks ‘along the beam’ and sees the cross, the albatross, and hears the voice of Aslan.

Aslan does the rest. He guides the ship and then destroys the island. But Lucy takes the first step. Lucy’s prayer makes the hole letting a beam of light through, and while everyone else simply sees some light, Lucy looks through the hole, along the beam, and sees God. Lucy holds on and Aslan pulls the entire ship out of the darkness through that hole made by Lucy’s prayer.

Lucy’s first step, making a hole though only the size of a needle, demonstrates an important rabbinic principle: God says to Israel open even a small door for me, even the size of the point of a needle, in repentance, and I will enlarge it so that even wagons and coaches can go through. On our own, however, we cannot break through the silence and repel the darkness, only God can. As Lucy says after the darkness is destroyed and Lord Rhoop attributes this victory to them, “I don’t think it was us.” Correct, but we need to take the first step, no matter how small it might be.

Lewis tells the story from a Christian perspective. Judaism provides an alternative escape. One that does not destroy the silence but transforms it. This method, perhaps cast aside in Christianity, is highlighted in Jew in the City’s contrast between “The Sound of Silence,” and “Lekhah Dodi,” the ritual song that ushers in the Sabbath. On the Sabbath (or Shabbat) Jews are commanded to stop. No work must be implemented, no creative actions are to be performed, and no electricity is to be used. For one day a week, communication is no longer instantaneous and social media is not a means of socializing. All Jews thus escape from the self-worship of the neon gods.

Without work, without cars, and with no devices it may seem that, on the Sabbath, Silence reigns supreme. It does, but it is not the silence of absence, it is Silence to hear other sounds: our spouses, our children, our God - the music of the spheres.

Paul the Apostle abrogated the Mosaic and rabbinic law in favor of faith in Christ. The only means of repentance are through God Himself. Lucy, but only Lucy, has the loving relationship that allows her to call out to Him. Without her the Dawn Treader could never have escaped and certainly could not destroy the darkness. Judaism understands that the rituals and practices of the law are not sterile or without purpose. Rather, they are the path of life, through which we will see light and hear the music of the spheres. God already provided man with the means of transforming darkness and silence. Turn off the Sound of Silence, Turn on the Silence of the Sabbath.

The Sound of Silence: Building Walls

The Silence described in Simon and Garfunkel’s “Sound of Silence,” is a silence of absence, not a silence allowing something to be heard. People are depicted as silent, apathetic, and disinterested in interpersonal relationships in favor of newfound technology; the ‘neon gods.’ The song’s rendition by Jew in the City vividly portrays how this silence is built up and promulgated by instant communication and social media. These methods of information exchange discourage strong relationships and deep conversations in favor of multitudes of Facebook friends, superficial tweets, and gaining likes. People are shown sitting or walking with their real friends and family, but ignoring them in favor of their social media “friends.”

Why? Why would anyone ignore real relationships in favor of their social profile? Why are these platforms so ubiquitous and ingrained? Why do people bow and pray to the neon god? It is not that  technology is our Maker, but perhaps we believe technology is our Savior. On social media we can attain all of our daydreams: we can show ourselves to be always smiling and happy, always beautiful, always having perfect friends and family. To keep our perfection from being marred by our actual situation we build a wall of silence around us. We want no one to come in and tell us that our true selves are not what is seen on social media. We become mesmerized and in awe of ourselves, and bow to the neon gods in self-worship. 

The wall of silence we build to protect ourselves comes at the cost of ignoring the very real people around us. And not only people, but God Himself. The people around us know we are imperfect, and God even more so (as Lewis talks about in The Screwtape Letters #22). Only our avatar can be perfect. So, rather than face the challenges of improving ourselves, broadening our understanding, and working on our faults so we can improve our reality, we would rather perfect our avatar and construct a wall of silence so that no one can compare the avatar to the true person. As we build more we become trapped by the silence. Captured in its grip, we no longer hear anything outside our social media bubble. In that bubble we do not hear what we do not want to hear nor see what we do not want to see.

However, what starts as a daydream quickly fades. As our Facebook friends and followers become more numerous, our relationships become more shallow, our tweets more vapid and our thrills less thrilling. The real people, problems, and God we have so long ignored flash before us in harsh reality; what we thought was a daydream is transformed into a real dream, a nightmare.

The human ability to not hear, to construct a cone of silence around us is already described in The Magician’s Nephew. Uncle Andrew easily convinces himself that the witch is a 'dem fine woman,' and would certainly want to marry him. In the new land of Narnia, Uncle Andrew further convinces himself that Aslan is not singing and not creating, the animals are not talking. Despite all evidence to the contrary Uncle Andrew cannot wake up to reality outside of his bubble. That unwillingness becomes so hardened, even Aslan cannot undo it. Uncle Andrew is trapped. He can only wake up when struck with the harsh reality back in London. 

This is what happens on the Dark Island. It is the island where dreams come true. Lord Rhoop landed on the island ready to find the perfect Lord Rhoop. But the island does not present reality and truth, rather the darkness ‘plants visions in people’s brains’ where everyone sees what they think they want to see. Like those who wasted away before the Mirror of Erised, people are mesmerized by how great these visions make them look; how happy they are. They worship the visions because they worship themselves. But by concentrating on visions, reality slips to the wayside. The visions become less engaging, the happiness less achievable, and the dreams become nightmares.

As the Dawn Treader sails into darkness, the passengers lose sight. As they are enveloped by silence they lose hearing. They are warned of the dangers of the island by Lord Rhoop, himself ready to grab onto reality and escape, but the visions begin. The visions are not reality because no two visions are alike:

Everyone knew it would be better not to listen, not to strain his ears for any sound from the darkness. But no one could help listening. And soon everyone was hearing things. Each one heard something different.

"Do you hear a noise like . . . like a huge pair of scissors opening and shutting .. . over there?" Eustace asked Rynelf. 

"Hush!" said Rynelf. "I can hear them crawling up the sides of the ship." 

"It's just going to settle on the mast," said Caspian. 

"Ugh!" said a sailor. "There are the gongs beginning. I knew they would."

Can the walls of silence be broken down? Can light dispel the darkness and the visions? Can one escape the confines of one’s own cone of silence?

We’ll see in the next post.