Calormene Poetry: Questions

Those who ask questions that do not concern them are steering the ship of folly towards the rock of indigence.

In a number of previous posts we have attempted to show that while, superficially, the apophthegms and maxims of Calormene poetry seem reasonable, in fact they are always inaccurate, or incomplete is some way. Either they are brought up slightly out of context, emphasize a point too much or too little, or simply miss the mark in a sometimes subtle way. The above verse is very much in line with our previous studies.

No doubt everyone knows or remembers the child (or adult?) who has a million questions, none of which concern the subject at hand. Facing such a person we would all like to hammer home Arsheesh’s lesson to Shasta, keep your mind on your work and do not pester me or anyone else about things that are irrelevant! However, we soon learn that the reason Arsheesh is not interested in answering Shasta’s question of, “What is there beyond that hill?” is not necessarily because it is irrelevant, but because he does not know. This demonstrates that Arsheesh’s invocation of the poetic verse is inappropriate. How does Arsheesh know whether or not Shasta’s question is irrelevant? Perhaps there is something of importance beyond the hill. Perhaps there is another village there that would buy his fish for a higher price or an inlet from the sea from which it is easier to catch fish. Certainly, those would be facts that should concern both of them!

Arsheesh’s utilization of the poetic verse now takes on different light. Arsheesh uses the verse not only to force Shasta to keep him mind on his work, but also to stave off questions that might force Arsheesh himself to rethink his chosen path in life. Questions open vistas to new possibilities and create doubts concerning the current situation. Arsheesh “had a very practical mind,” one that was not interested in thinking in new ways.

While the Talmud does report certain questions that are not to be asked, the silencing of questions is an anathema to Judaism. Our Sages taught:

“One who is shy will not learn” (Ethics of Our Fathers 2:5)

With this statement, the Sages highlighted not only the acceptance of questions, but their primacy. Only one not afraid to ask, will be able to learn. A true religion, honest philosophy, or constructive government is not afraid of questions. Only one who has something to hide, or is ashamed, or simply does not know is unwilling to address the curiosity of a student.

The Torah itself places questions in the mouths of future generations as they ask their parents about their People’s history. The Passover meal, the seder, centers around these questions. The Talmud goes a step further and institutes various rituals at the Passover seder designed to specifically to engender even more questions. The goal of Judaism then is not to squash curiosity but to peak curiosity, not to silence questions but to encourage them.

Why are questions so important? Why not simply insist to our children this is how it is, and that is final!? One possible reason is practical. Barring questions is simply not a good way to keep adherents. While some people may be satisfied with accepting as gospel whatever they are told, others are not. The danger inherent in questioning religion and authority is outweighed by the risk of losing followers who cannot then give voice to their doubts and queries.

However, I believe the real importance of freedom to question is a positive one. The Talmud insists that just as no two people have the same physical appearance, so too no two people possess the same intellect. Each individual has their own view on a myriad of concepts and their own ideas about a variety of issues. This is true even, and perhaps especially true, when it comes to forming a relationship with God and shaping our lives around His word. Each person must form a unique relationship with God and design their life in fulfillment of His word. In fact, to truly comprehend the most we can about God, for the maximum number of different perspectives, we must perceive how each individual uniquely fulfills these tasks. Individuality, however, comes about only when questions are encouraged and original thought is valued. The silencing of questions represses individuality and leads to uniformity.

Shasta asks questions. His adopted father attempts to stifle these questions for he is uninterested in individuality but only that the necessary work be completed. Even when on the verge of selling Shasta he cares only that he is paid enough to hire another boy. The other boy will do his work and thus be just as good as the baby Arsheesh saved from death and raised to a young man. Despite his father, Shasta continues to ask questions. And these eventually bring him to know the true God.

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.

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.

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. 

The Reward of a Good Deed: Shasta and Abraham

If you do one good deed your reward usually is to be set to do another and harder and better one.

("The Horse and His Boy," page 155)

Previously we suggested that Lewis' above assertion was parallel to the declaration in Ethics of our Fathers that the reward of fulfilling one command is the opportunity to fulfill another. However, this parallel does not address the second part of Lewis' statement, that the next "good deed" would be a "harder and better one."

Perhaps a more accurate portrayal is, instead, the series of tests God placed before Abraham. Again turning to the Ethics of our Fathers we find:

Abraham our father, peace be upon him, was tested with ten tests and he withstood all of them. This is to demonstrate the great love of Abraham our father, peace be upon him. (5:3)

The commentaries disagree as to the exact identity of these ten tests (see for example the list of R' Ovadia Bartenura). But what was God's goal of administering these tests? The answer to this lies in the second part of the quotation from Ethics of our Fathers, "to demonstrate the great love of Abraham." The language is ambiguous and could mean:

(1) Abraham demonstrated his love of God by passing the ten test. 

(2) God demonstrated his love for Abraham by administering to him the ten tests.

The first meaning is straightforward. Abraham's willingness to follow God's commands, even when difficult and at times defying logic, demonstrates how much Abraham loved God. The second meaning is more opaque: how is God's love demonstrated by testing Abraham? Are the tests not challenging? Did not tests such as God's call to Abraham to sacrifice his son cause Abraham pain and anguish? To address these questions we must ask a more fundamental one: why does God administer tests in the first place? Does God not know the outcome of the test beforehand?

There are two general approaches to the question of why God administers tests. The first approach posits external reasons. For example, Abraham's successful completion of the tests explains to the world why God favors Abraham above all others, and perhaps encourages others to support Abraham and learn from his ways.

The second approach indicates internal reasons for the tests. In school for example, a teacher may give a test, not only to determine how well the students know the material, but to force students to study the material. The study itself is a goal, as only through study will the students internalize the material. The test is simply the method used to encourage the students to study. God, of course, knows the results of the test. Even so, a test administered by God is a growth opportunity for the one who takes it. With each successive, more difficult test, Abraham climbs to greater and greater spiritual heights. 

We can now return to our previous question: how does the administration of tests by God demonstrate His love for Abraham. The answer is self-evident. God’s love for Abraham is demonstrated because He continually provides Abraham with opportunities for spiritual growth. 

This latter approach is the one encapsulated in Lewis' above quoted assertion. Shasta felt that, having passed one test to show his loyalty to Narnia and the North, he should be given the opportunity to rest on his laurels and take a break at the home of the Hermit of the Southern Marsh. Aslan deemed otherwise. His love for Shasta required that Shasta have the opportunity for continued spiritual growth. This was especially and immediately necessary for Shasta as he was soon to be declared the prince, and future king, of Archenland. The opportunity to provide further spiritual growth is accomplished by charging Shasta with an even harder and better good deed; the quest to warn King Lune of the coming danger from the army of Rabadash. 

What was true for Shasta is true for each of us in our own lives. God constantly provides us, and at times forces us, into situations where we have the opportunity for spiritual growth. It is easy to be dismissive and at times even resentful of this, especially if we do not perceive others with the same challenges. Shasta's story teaches us not to give up. But even more so, his story teaches us that opportunities to perform good deeds are a reflection of God's love.

The Reward of a Good Deed: Shasta

If you do one good deed your reward usually is to be set to do another and harder and better one. ("The Horse and His Boy," page 155)

“The Horse and His Boy,” tells the adventures of the boy Shasta and the talking horse Bree as they attempt to escape Calormen into Narnia. On their way, they learn of a plot of the Prince Rabadash of Calormen to conquer the northern kingdoms, Narnia and Archenland. They must warn Archenland’s king of the coming attack or find that the destination they hope to reach no longer exists. After weeks of travel through Calormen Shasta and his fellow travellers finally cross the desert into Archenland. Tired and worn, having just escaped a lion, Shasta’s cohorts are left with the Hermit of the Southern Marsh. Shasta, however, cannot take a moment’s rest, but is called upon to go with all speed and warn Archenland’s King Lune of the impending attack. “[Shasta] writhed with the cruelty and unfairness of the demand,” for he had not yet learned the lesson that the reward for a good deed is not the opportunity to rest on one’s laurels, but being offered the opportunity to do a harder one. 

Lewis’ description of the usual reward for a good deed echoes a statement in Ethics of Our Fathers (4:2):

Ben (the son of) Azai says: you should run to fulfill an easy command as a hard one, and flee from a transgression. For one command pulls with it another command, and a transgression pulls with it another transgression. For the reward of [fulfilling] a command is [fulfilling] another command, and the reward of [violating] a transgression is [violating] another transgression.   

The classical commentaries suggest a number of possible readings for this statement. R’ Ovadia of Bartenura (15th century Italy) reads as follows. When fulfilling a command of God (a mitzvah or good deed) one accustoms himself to follow the word of God. Thus, in the future it will be easier to continue following in His path. As a reward, God will provide further opportunities to fulfill others of His commands. An example of this is described by our Sages as an explanation of the juxtaposition of certain commands listed in Deuteronomy (22:6-12). The midrash states: if one performs the command of chasing away a mother bird before taking the eggs, one will be rewarded by being able to build a new house. When building that house the person now has the opportunity to fulfill another command, putting a fence around the roof of the house (assuming a flat roof, or a balcony). If one fulfills that command one will be rewarded by being able to plant a vineyard and will now have the opportunity to fulfill the commands related to that endeavor (such as not mixing the vines with seeds of another species of plant), and so forth. 

This chain of good deeds arising from the fulfillment of one, partially parallels Shasta’s experience. He has performed the good deed of escaping, and helping others to escape, Calormen in hopes of a more fulfilling life in Narnia. Now, he can perform another good deed by warning the King of Archenland of an impending attack. While somewhat satisfactory, the suggestion that one good deed leads to another, seems too weak as an interpretation of Lewis’ assertion. According to Lewis Shasta's reward is not merely the opportunity to perform additional good deeds, but to perform “harder and better” ones. Why is this true? I will address this point in the next post.

In the meantime, I pray that starting this blog may be considered a good deed and will lead to the performance of additional good deeds.