From Paganism to Christianity: Climbing the Mountain

We ended our last post positing that Lewis’ desire in writing the Chronicles of Narnia was to recreate an atmosphere of each of the seven planets and their pagan god representative. His readers should then look 'along the beam' that he created via each chronicle to perceive God from the perspective of that atmosphere. Thus, the seven books entice us to experience God (as Aslan) as seven archetypes (in the description of Ward), “King, Commander, Light, Son, Word, Life, Mystery (in the order of the books’ publication).”  

The need to perceive God from so many diverse perspectives is obvious and is similar to what I attempted to do in my article Four Facets of the Love of God (following Lewis’ models of the Four Loves). It is impossible to fully comprehend the essence of God. The best we can do is know Him via His interactions with humanity. Each archetype of pagan god, as conscripted by Lewis, is a two-dimensional description or projection of a multi-colored, three-dimensional object. Formulating as Plato, we see shadows and from them try to understand what it is that casts them. By studying each shadow in isolation, we can then hope to meld them into a more complete picture of God.      

One may think it surprising, or even blasphemous, to utilize pagan gods as the shadows to reflect monotheistic theological concepts. However, Lewis certainly did not. We have already referenced Lewis’ belief that the planets in the Ptolemaic model held permanent value as spiritual symbols. Furthermore, he followed the paths of the great Medieval writers such as Dante and Chaucer who had, as described by Ward, “Christened the planetary gods.”

Our goal, however, is to determine whether a similar model could be followed in creating a Jewish Narnia. In our next post we will examine whether there is Jewish precedence in utilizing planets, pagan gods, or other astronomical bodies to convey theological truths. For the remainder of this post, I will outline an approach, formulated by R’ Yisrael Lifschitz, as to why Judaism may encourage an endeavor like that of Lewis. Furthermore, I would posit that Jews may benefit by studying and understanding these works. 

R’ Yisrael Lifschitz (1782 - 1860) was born in Poznan (Poland) and served as rabbi in a number of communities including Dessau (Germany) and Gdansk (Poland). He is chiefly known for his commentary on the mishnah (the earliest part of the Talmud) which is divided into two parts: one which serves to explain the text and the other to expand on the text into further areas of Jewish law, philosophy, and theology. R’ Lifschitz had a very positive attitude towards general studies and was aware of scientific discoveries of his day. He comments favorably on the discovery of dinosaur bones (which he claimed supported traditional Jewish teachings on Creation) and was one of the first to address the question of prayer times in geographic areas where the sun does not rise or set. R’ Lifschitz also had a novel understanding of the difference between Jews and non-Jews which we now review. 

The famed R’ Akiva is quoted in the Ethics of the Fathers as saying, “Beloved is man who was created in the image of God. (Ethics 3:14)” Man, in this context, refers to all of humanity and R’ Lifschitz uses this as a springboard to discuss the difference between Jews and non-Jews. 

Jews and non-Jews, explains R’ Lifschitz, each have a unique preeminence over the other. The preeminence of the non-Jews is that whatever they have accomplished spiritually was done on their own free will and through their own efforts. This is unlike Jews who were essentially forced to accept God’s commands and can therefore claim no credit for any spiritual heights they may reach. Jews, however, received God’s Torah and therefore can fulfill all of God’s desires. Non-Jews, on the other hand, do not fulfill all of God’s commandments (nor are they required to) because pure intellect and spiritual growth without revelation can only take them so far. 

One can compare this (R’ Lifschitz does not) to the parable of a man who spent years attempting to climb a very tall mountain. When he finally succeeds in reaching the summit, he was welcomed by a small population who themselves had previously climbed the mountain and had now formed an exclusive community. The man was understandably very proud of his accomplishment and glad to be part of this select group. As he was congratulating himself, he took a tour of the mountaintop and saw a young child. He was incredulous! How could such a young child have climbed the mountain? Quickly, he went over to the child and with wonder asked, “How did you get up here? How were you able to survive the struggles of climbing the mountain?” The child looked at him and said, “Sir, I know nothing of such struggles. For you see I was born here.” 

The non-Jewish religious world is aiming to reach the top of the mountain in understanding and fulfilling God’s desires. History bears witness to how the non-Jewish civilizations are climbing the mountain, how they have evolved positively from idol-worship and paganism to monotheism and Christianity. Lewis understood that Christianity is built on paganism. Not in such a way that it cheapens Christianity, but because the process of finding God is a long and arduous one and each step is built on the one before it. The pagans were not wrong to seek a higher power, they were only incorrect in whom they attributed that power. On the way, the Greeks and Romans (who, by abstracting away from worshipping the sun or moon itself, were a step higher than earlier pagans) created manifestations of how immortal creatures interact with mortal ones. Many of the interactions themselves are, of course, totally rejected by monotheism. But the perspective has value and Lewis demonstrates this to us via the Chronicles are Narnia.   

Continuing in the path of R’ Lifschitz, the Jewish experience is very different. Jews did not climb the mountain but were “born” on top. Jews deserve no credit for this, and it does not in any way permit Jews to be arrogant or feel superior. Rather, it charges Jews with the responsibility to help others, by acting as “a kingdom of priests and a holy nation.” To do this properly Jews must understand the mountain and how difficult a climb it is and thus the Jewish need to understand Narnia.  

(On this point I agree for the moment with the conclusion of David Goldman’s article on why there is no Jewish Narnia)         

More in our next.

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.