Cover Art: The Last Battle

Today, my wife and some kids went to a used bookstore and found "The Last Battle" (and some of the other Chronicles) with the cover on the left. The true excitement was, of course, that the books they found were in the correct, publication order, as opposed to the horrid "chronological" order of my current set. But I also noticed the difference in the cover art. And I wondered whether the changing of the cover was almost as bad (nothing could ever be as bad) as the changing of the numbering. 

Note above some of the examples of how that art changed over the years (though there are many that are not in the above array). Contrast, for example, the cover on the left and the third from the left. The latter clearly implies that the battle being referenced in the title is a physical one. The unicorn's blood-soaked horn suggests that there is a unicorn at the center of the story and his looking back tells us that the unicorn must look backwards out of concern of enemies approaching him from behind. There is a unicorn in "The Last Battle," and he does, at least once, stab someone with his horn. In addition, we know that the little band of good guys which the unicorn is part of, is effectively in enemy territory and must constantly look backwards. So, the cover is true, but does it get to the main theme of the story?

"The stars from their constellations fought against Sisera,"
sang the great prophetess (Judges 5:20).

The left-most cover suggests a very different theme. No physical battle is pictured. Rather we see through the door the darkness of night punctuated by falling stars. Inside the door it is bright and warm. If a battle is occurring, as the title states, it must be the stars fighting and the words of Deborah ring in our ears. The battle is not a physical one, it is a spiritual one, and the presence of Aslan (who at this point we certainly know) and a cohort of people suggests that Aslan has protected his chosen from the great battles raging outside.  

Why change the picture so starkly?

Well, it could be that people no longer recognize Deborah's song, and so the message would be lost. Or, unfortunately, it could be that the publisher does not believe that spiritual battles will sell. Physical battles are where the action is and the cover is meant to say, don't worry, this is a book about real, bloody, battles, not some spiritually boring theology. 

We see some of this already in the second cover. The picture is very much like the first, except with much more and sharper detail both inside and out of the door. The presence of (so far unknown) Father Time may be in line with the theme of the end of time (he may be blowing the great horn that accompanies the eschaton), but it detracts from the shower of stars. Worse, however, is that inside of the door is very much a continuation of outside. There is no contrast of light versus darkness or warmth versus cold. There is no implication of Aslan as the protector.

The final artwork revives the door and the contrast between inside and out. But now the unicorn is coming out of the door! This implies that the battle must be joined outside and that to win forces must be brought from there. I don't like it. The forces for spiritual battle are within all of us. Of course, we pray to God for His help and His deliverance, but we also cannot count on miraculous beings coming to help. 

 

Must a Creator be Immortal?

In the previous post, I asked why the White Witch thought she could kill Aslan. She knew that he created Narnia (and presumably the universe of Narnia) so how could she not realize that he is immortal? 

Before we get to an answer we should note that a spirtual mistake of this sort happen another time in Narnia. The Narnians assumed that Tash was simply a false god, one that did not exsit. And they weren't the only ones: the Calormen of "The Last Battle" also did not believe in the existence of Tash and I think we can argue that the Tisrocs did not either. Remember this exchange: 

    "O impeccable Tisroc," said the Vizier. "In comparison with you I love neither the Prince nor my own        life nor bread nor water nor the light of the sun."

    "Your sentiments," said the Tisroc, "are elevated and correct. I also love none of these things in                   comparison with the glory and strength of my throne..."

The Tisroc mentions no love for Tash only for his own power. Strangely enough, the only character we know for sure believed in Tash was Emeth!  

As for the Narnians, only when Tash came into Narnia did they realize there was a spiritual evil that had possessed the Calormens and aimed to fight against Aslan on Narnian soil. 

Be that as it may, I think there's a reason the White Witch did not equate Creator to immortal, because she did not equate Destroyer to immortal. She was the great destroyer of Charn, yet not immortal. What is the difference between creation and destruction. In fact, destroying is far easier than creating. Only a truly intelligent and loving being can create, but any tyrant can destroy. 

The value of creation is underestimated, undervalued, and perhaps even vilified. Screwtape says, "At present the Enemy says 'Mine' of everything on the pedantic, legalistic ground that He made it: Our Father hopes in the end to say 'Mine' of all things on the more realistic and dynamic ground of conquest." Thus, the devil, the White Witch, Tash, the Tisroc, and so many others gain power and ownership through destruction. But in truth, only evil must be destroyed, ownership is attained via creation. And a true creator must be greater than what he creates. Thus, the creator of the world must be immortal.   

On Revealing and Unrevealing Disguises (Part 2)

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

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

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

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

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

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

God chooses the method of redemption, not us. 

Our job is to keep His banner raised high. 

The Abdication of Queen Susan (Part 1)

 "My sister Susan," answered Peter shortly and gravely, "is no longer a friend of Narnia."

Perhaps one of the saddest parts of the Chronicles is the loss of Queen Susan from the Narnian afterlife. Much has been written (some not very complimentary to Lewis) concerning what caused Susan the Gentle to abandon her youthful beliefs, whether a reader could we have predicted from earlier actions or events that she would not hold out her fidelity to Narnian, and whether she can or will come eventually be redeemed. 

For our initial discussion let's see what can be derived from the text itself.  

The first statement regarding the transformation of Susan arises after King Tirian enters the stable and formally meets the seven "friends of Narnia" (the name comes from Tirian's vision earlier in the story when he sees the seven). After King Peter introduces him to the seven, Tirian realizes that one of the four ancient kings and queens, Susan, is missing. Tirian's question is answered by the above statement of Peter. While the present seven are friends are Narnia, Susan is no longer a friend. 

Lewis could have stopped there. After all, earlier Lewis told us that one of the dwarfs who shot the Talking Horses was allowed into the Narnian nirvana, but Lewis (in the mouth of Eustace) told us that it was not our business to know how the dwarf merited this ultimate reward. Lewis could have similarly kept quiet about Susan, but he does not end the discussion there. Instead, we have the following from King Edmund. 

"Yes," said Eustace, "and whenever you've tried to get her to come and talk about Narnia or do anything about Narnia, she says, `What wonderful memories you have! Fancy your still thinking about all those funny games we used to play when we were children.'"

In other words, Susan does not deny that as children they all spoke about Narnia. She rather believes that they were simply playing games. Now as a grownup she realizes that those games were not real. From Susan's grownup point of view, Narnia is no different than the pretend friends and lively stuffed animals that populate the childhood of so many. Those were fine for children, but what value do they have once someone has (colloquially) matured?  

But let's reflect on this for a moment. We should ask ourselves the following question. Does it matter? What if Narnia was not real, if the whole of the Chronicles that were in the minds of the seven friends never actually took place. Should that matter? Does is matter that Hobbes is just a toy tiger in the eyes of Calvin's parents and teacher? Does is matter that Snuffleupagus could only be seen by Big Bird? 

On the one hand the answer is, of course! Truth matters! It matters that the Exodus happened, it matters that God revealed the Torah on Mount Sinai, so much of our religious life is based on these events how can one suggest that things of this sort don't matter? Well, that makes sense, but we've already seen Lewis express the opposite perspective when Puddleglum insisted he would live like a Narnian even without Narnia. 

And, in some ways, we're all like Puddleglum. If you're reading this, you probably value at least some aspect of Narnia. Maybe the Narnian Chronicles have taught you bravery, faith, and loyalty. Or maybe you were inspired to live your life closer to God. But Narnia is NOT real! There's nothing wrong with that. We can learn valuable lessons of morality and ethics from made up stories. We can think Narnia is important despite the fact that it was just the figment of the imagination of someone who lived decades ago in a country across an ocean (at least for me in the United States). We think Narnia is important even though it's not real. But not Susan... 

To Susan, Narnia should have been real. However, Susan's fault may be not that she stopped believing in the actuality of Narnia, but that she stopped believing the importance of Narnia. 

We will have to follow up on this in our next. 

Final Judgement of Narnia (Part 2)

In our last post we quoted the mishna in Rosh HaShana as a parallel to Aslan's judgment of the creatures of the Narnian world by the stable door:

On Rosh HaShana (the Jewish New Year with a date of the first of the month of Tishrei), all creatures pass before Him like sheep [benei maron], as it is stated: “He Who fashions their hearts alike; Who considers all their deeds. (Psalms 33:15)”

As in Lewis' depiction, each creature passes individually and alone before God as He sits in judgment. 

Our open question was the prooftext from Psalms. What does it mean that, "God fashions their hearts alike"? Does that not contradict the individuality of the final judgment?

Perhaps one can answer that the prooftext is necessary to demonstrate that the judgment is fair in the first place. All humans are created on equal footing. No one is born good or bad and therefore all can be judged on the same scale. Those who hate God and violate his commands will be punished, while those who love Him and keep his laws will be rewarded. No one can excuse themselves because their heart leans towards evil - for God has fashioned their hearts alike. Together they are born, but because humans have the free will to act in ways that are good or evil, their paths will diverge as they live their lives. 

And so too in Narnia. The Talking Beasts are awakened as one and all can choose whether to adhere to Aslan's will or return to the ways of the Dumb Beasts. Thus, judgment is passed, individually, on them all. 

Following in this theme would then read the second part of the prooftext as follows: from that level starting point for all humans God considers their deeds and that is what determines (and makes fair) their final judgment. 

However, there is a Narnian (and realistic) challenge to this reading. Are deeds the only metric God uses to make His judgment? 

In the final chapter of Narnia, we find that one of those judged favorably by Aslan was one of those Dwarfs who had helped to shoot the Talking Horses. We remember what eventually happened to those dwarfs, they decided that the "dwarfs were for the dwarfs" and attacked the Calormen as well. Some (though perhaps not this one) were eventually thrown into the stable and were last seen there thinking it was a stable despite the kindness that Aslan himself attempted to bestow upon them. They had not realized that the door they were thrown through was the one to the Land of Eternal Life.

How was such a character found worthy? Aslan himself seemed to regard their cause as lost... 

Final Judgment of Narnia

They all looked straight in his face, I don't think they had any choice about that. 

We've spent a lot of time recently talking about Narnian Creation and major themes, the laws Aslan sets forth to the Talking Beasts, and the parallels to biblical creation. With the coming of the High Holidays perhaps it's flip to the end of Narnia see what can be gleaned and learned from Lewis' description of the Final Judgment. 

We'll remember, of course, that the last King of Narnia, Tirian, is defeated by the Calormenes with the help of the Shift the Ape and his followers. Despite fighting valiantly, Tirian, Eustace, and Jill are all eventually thrown into the Stable which the Calormenes called the shrine of Tash, but which Jewel the Unicorn had correctly predicted, it was for them the door to Aslan's country. 

The end of Narnia is quickly followed by the Final Judgment. Time is awakened and blows his great horn to call home the stars, terrible creatures are unleashed to destroy the world, and every living creature runs towards Alsan at the door of the Stable and are judged. 

How does this judgment take place? One-by-one they look up at Aslan. Those who express fear and hatred stay outside the door and are presumably devoured by the creatures now roaming the world, while those who express love for Aslan come through the door into Aslan's country.

The mishna in Rosh HaShana  asserts that the world is judged four times a year: 

On Rosh HaShana (the first of Tishrei), all creatures pass before Him like sheep [benei maron], as it is stated: “He Who fashions their hearts alike, Who considers all their deeds. (Psalms 33:15)”

The mishna (as translated) seems to be inline with Narnian's world End of Time judgment. All creatures pass before God. Indeed, the Talmud (see also Rashi) explains that we speak of a situation, for example when climbing a steep mountain, when the sheep must walk single file. In this way God judges each individually. 

However, if it that were it, what is the point of the prooftext brought by the mishna? The creatures are not alike, they are different and judged individually. Far from being a proof, the verse quoted by the mishna appears to contradict the very point the mishna is trying to prove!

Ginger and Other Former Talking Beasts

In our last post we contrasted two Talking Beasts: the Lapsed Bear of Stormness and Ginger the Cat. The Lapsed Bear is specifically called out for going back to Wild Beast habits (though no specific habits are called out). However, he is saved through the bravery and strength of Corin Thunder-Fist and does not appear to suffer the punishment of ceasing to be a talking beast. On the other hand Ginger does cease to be a talking beast but there is no clear sign that he reverted to the habits of Dumb Beasts. So how is the punishment of losing sentience appropriate?

Perhaps we can gain some insight by noting that there are other beasts who have been afflicted by Aslan’s promised curse of ceasing to be Talking Beasts. These are identified by Trumpkin the Dwarf. As Trumpkin and the four Pevensie children make their way to Caspian’s camp, they are followed by a bear. When the bear attacks, it is Trumpkin’s arrow that takes him down, not Susan’s (though Susan is the better archer). Susan embarrassingly explains that she was worried it may have been a Talking Bear and therefore hesitated. Trumpkin, for his part, acknowledges Susan’s concern:

“That's the trouble of it,” said Trumpkin, “when most of the beasts have gone enemy and gone dumb, but there are still some of the other kind left. You never know, and you daren't wait to see.”

This is an astounding statement especially when considering that (1) at this point Trumpkin is not quite a believer in Aslan, and (2) Trufflehunter’s insistence that Beasts do not forget. Well, maybe Trumpkin is just reporting what he’s seen. As Talking Beasts join the enemies of the “Old Narnians” they cease to be Talking Beasts, they go dumb.

Again here we have the same theological question as with Ginger. What did these Beasts do to deserve the punishment they received?

I think the way to address this question is to uncover the essence of the prohibition against returning to Wild Beast habits. We’ll try to do that in our next post.

The Lapsed and the Conniver

There is one Talking Beast about whom we are explicitly told that he had, “gone back to Wild Bear habits.” That is the Lapsed Bear of Stormness, who was eventually beaten in a boxing match by Corin Thunder-Fist and became a “reformed character.” Given the short description, it is not at all clear what habits the Lapsed Bear returned to. Nonetheless, perhaps this supports our previous contention that it is an approach or trajectory towards the ways of Wild Beasts that violates Aslan’s command. The Lapsed Bear habituated himself as a Wild Beast. Whether he did something evil, dangerous to others, or even just non-thinking is not important. Simply, he did not value the gift in sentience granted by Aslan and directed his approach to life towards the ways of the Dumb Beasts.

There is also a Talking Beast explicitly struck with Aslan’s curse, “lest you cease to be Talking Beasts.” That creature is, of course, Ginger the Cat in The Last Battle who loses his ability to speak, and ceases to be a Talking Beast, after looking into the stable at “Tashlan.” Of course, we know what Ginger did wrong. As part of the plot with the Calomens (and Shift) he betrayed his own people. He disbelieved in Aslan, enough to create “Tashlan,” and attempted to sell this new god to the Narnian proletariat.

So, there’s no question that Ginger is an evil character who deserves to be punished. The challenge is that his actions are not returning to ways of the Dumb Beasts. Dumb Beasts do not deceive, connive, or scheme. How does Ginger’s punishment fit the crime?

Noble Enemies at War?

I do not know that there need be any war between you and us.

To understand Peter’s above reply to Emeth let us examine Peter’s context and perspective. At this point in “The Last Battle,” Peter himself does not know whether he will be sent back to our world, or even where he is. His answer, then, cannot reflect what we might expect from the finality of history at which time all truths will be revealed, and all falsehood will be buried.

Perhaps due to this uncertainty, Peter does not answer Emeth’s implied question. He does not know as of yet, whether Emeth is a friend or enemy. He does not know whether Emeth has met Aslan and has been converted to his side. Peter suggests “there need not be war between you and us.” Why?

The ambiguity in Peter’s response could arise for one of two reasons:

First, it could be that, unsure of Emeth’s status, he is unsure whether war is necessary. If, however, it is later revealed that Emeth is not a friend but an enemy, war becomes necessary.

Second, perhaps Peter is suggesting that, because Emeth is a noble enemy, war is not necessary. This idea would counter Emeth’s worldview. Emeth (later) states, “Now when I first heard that we should march upon Narnia I rejoiced; for I had heard many things of your Land and desired greatly to meet you in battle.” Of course as a noble enemy Emeth feels shame in how he comes to Narnia, “... when I found that we were to go in disguised as merchants (which is a shameful dress for a warrior and the son of a Tarkaan) and to work by lies and trickery…” But the desire for battle with a noble enemy is there.

Perhaps Peter is hinting that noble enemies need not engage in war. Rather they must engage in partnership to find the truth.

Calormene Poetry: Noble Enemies

Has not one of the poets said that a noble friend is the best gift and a noble enemy the next best?

We have spent quite some time analyzing Calormene poetry. Lewis appears to have been rather dismissive of this literary genre despite its apparent similarities to biblical works such as Proverbs and Ecclesiastes. Our studies of this poetry have revealed why this is so. While perhaps superficially appealing, the ideas conveyed by Calormene poetry are subtly but deeply flawed or conveniently misapplied.

There is, however, one line of Calormen poetry that should be differentiated from the rest. The narrator of this poetic line is Emeth, who’s name (in Hebrew) means truth. The circumstances for his quotation of Calormene poetry are thus.

As we have seen, The Last Battle starts with the Ape Shift posing as the prophet of the recently arrived Aslan (actually the Donkey Puzzle dressed in a lion’s skin). Shift’s motivation appears to be simple greed, he wants oranges and bananas and is willing to sell his fellow Narnians as slaves to Calormen to achieve those selfish desires. The ‘new Aslan’ movement, however, quickly outgrows Shift. The Calormenes become aware of it and (correctly) perceive an opportunity to destabilize Narnia and, with select Narnians, devise an Aslan-Tash composite ‘Tashlan’ to convince the Narnians of their friendship and common purpose. Tashlan is housed in a Stable and emerges only occasionally allowing the Narnians to pay homage.

One evening the Narnians and newly arrived Calormenes are gathered around the Stable and Shift gives permission for anyone to go inside and see Tashlan, but only one at a time. The first to enter is the Cat Ginger, who at this point is the actual Narnian leading the movement. Ginger enters confidently but with a ‘horrible caterwaul,’ races out, and has clearly ceased to be a Talking Beast. It is at this point that Emeth requests to enter the Stable. The Calormene Captain is unwilling, but Emeth insists that, as a servant of Tash, he must be allowed to look upon the face of Tash once, even at the cost of death.

Emeth’s loyalty to his god and his willingness to risk death for his love of Tash, strikes King Tirian and those loyal to him. "By the Lion's Mane,” says Jewel the Unicorn, “I almost love this young warrior, Calormene though he be. He is worthy of a better god than Tash." And, indeed, he is, for upon entering the Stable Emeth finds himself in the afterlife reserved for the worthy. He wanders those heavenly lands until he meets Aslan. Emeth is now sure he has met his death, but Aslan explains that it is not Tash but He who Emeth has spent his life truly seeking with such love and dedication.

After a time, Emeth is come upon by the Seven Lords of Narnia and their entourage. He bows before them and, addressing the High King Peter quotes the Calormene poet:

I know not whether you are my friend or my foe, but I should count it my honour to have you for either. Has not one of the poets said that a noble friend is the best gift and a noble enemy the next best?"

Now, given the high regard Lewis has for Emeth given his name, we should take care to understand Emeth's words. We can plainly understand the value of a noble friend. Lewis spends quite a bit of time defining friendship in his book The Four Loves. Paraphrasing, a friend is one with whom one shares a common interest or insight that separates them from others. A noble friend would be such a person who is also idealistic, moral, and perhaps even illustrious. No doubt that a noble friend is the best gift.

But what is a noble enemy?

Presumably a noble enemy, in contrast to one that is not noble, is moral, idealistic, and a person of principle. Perhaps we might say that noble enemies, given their nobility, are seeking truth. Of course, as enemies their pursuit has not led them to the same conclusion and thus they are not friends. Nonetheless, while perhaps at odds, noble enemies strive towards the same ends.

The Calormene poet properly places the noble enemy as the “next best gift.” Noble enemies will motivate each other to fight harder, to do better, to seek more diligently. A noble enemy will not take short-cuts, will not stab you in the back after slipping on a tussock, nor attempt trickery or even bribery. Ignoble enemies seek to win at all costs, even at the cost of ideals and principles, noble enemies seek to discover the truth.

In The Last Battle Shift, Ginger, and the Calormene captain are ignoble enemies. Their goal is not truth but material gain and they seek to achieve their goals through deceit and disguise. In doing so they compromise their religious principles and even basic decency. They exploit the naive, torture the innocent, and confuse those seeking understanding.

Emeth, in contrast, is indeed a noble enemy. He strives for truth and perceives himself as a true servant of Tash. He seeks war with Narnia to prove the greatness of Tash against (in his mind) the falsehoods portrayed by the fiend which is Aslan, and he is willing to die for his ideals. Of course, his views are incorrect, but because he seeks truth, he eventually finds it. For when noble enemies finally reach the truth they have been seeking all along, they can no longer be enemies. Each must recognize the truth and the noble enemies are transformed noble friends.

Emeth is yet unsure whether that finality has been achieved. Has he become the noble friend of the Seven Lords? We await the response of Peter in our next post.

Transposition and Tabernacle

“More like the real thing.” 

 (Lord Digory, The Last Battle)

Almost two years ago the world shut down, a week before my younger son’s bar-mitzvah. A lot has happened during that time, and though my son has been nothing but gracious, accepting and understanding, my wife and I are still trying to commemorate the momentous occasion that God, in his goodness, has granted us. The latest of these attempts has been this past Shabbos where our son again read (part of) his bar-mitzvah portion (he’ll read the rest this Shabbos), this time actually inside the synagogue (as opposed to outside in the freezing cold as he did last year).

In this post I would like to share the (relevant parts of the) talk that I was to give at my son’s bar-mitzvah, parts of which I’ve already given in our synagogue. As context, the weekly Torah portions for this past Shabbos described how the Jews built the Tabernacle in the desert.

“And make for Me a sanctuary and I will dwell among them.” (Exodus 25:8)

How can finite man build a sanctuary for the infinite God? What engineering or architectural schemes can be used for such a structure? What materials and designs are geared towards this purpose?

Of course, the Torah itself goes into great detail answering these questions, providing careful, exquisite detail of all aspects of the Tabernacle and its vessels. However, though the Torah is long on detail, it provides nothing in the way of explanation as to why the specific designs or vessels or materials are appropriate in providing a structure for God.

Biblical commentaries throughout the ages attempt to solve this riddle. Here I would like to expand on the approach of R’ Naftali Tzvi Yehudah Berlin (Ha'amek Davar, Exodus 25:8), the famed head of the Yeshiva in Volozhin known as the Netziv. He explains that “All details of the Tabernacle are parallel to the details of the world that the Creator, may He be blessed, fashioned. God dwells in the world as a whole and He commanded that the Jews make a microcosm of the entire world in the Tabernacle and its vessels.”

This remark requires some analysis.

From one perspective the Netziv’s approach answers our above question. How can finite man build a home for the Infinite? By copying the design of a place where God is known to reside. We know that God resides in our world. Hence, if we build our Tabernacle to reflect our world, we can trust that God will inhabit the Tabernacle as well.

From another perspective, however, the explanation of the Netziv is questionable. What point is there in simply copying the world which we are already familiar with? Will one who sojourns to the Tabernacle be inspired simply by seeing a model of what he or she already knows? If God already resides in the world, what point is there in building a Tabernacle to reflect the world?

In The Last Battle the Narnian heroes enter nirvana, the afterlife, the World to Come and they are quite surprised by what they see:

“Those hills," said Lucy, "the nice woody ones and the blue ones behind - aren't they very like the Southern border of Narnia?"

"Like!" cried Edmund after a moment's silence. "Why, they're exactly like. Look, there's Mount Pire with his forked head, and there's the pass into Archenland and everything!"

"And yet they're not like," said Lucy. "They're different. They have more colours on them and they look further away than I remembered and they're more .. . more . . . oh, I don't know..."

"More like the real thing," said the Lord Digory softly.

The Lord Digory goes on to explain that the Narnia the children knew and loved “was only a shadow or a copy of the real Narnia”:

All of the old Narnia that mattered, all the dear creatures, have been drawn into the real Narnia through the Door. And of course it is different; as different as a real thing is from a shadow or as waking life is from a dream.

This description of the real Narnia and its relationship to the old Narnia is a parable for Lewis’ concept of “Transposition.” In his aptly entitled essay, Lewis explains that transposition occurs when a richer system is to be represented by a poorer system, for example when we try to draw a three-dimensional scene on a two-dimensional piece of paper. We can try to give a feeling of the third dimension by drawing in an appropriate fashion. However, a being who has never experienced a third-dimension could never comprehend what the drawing is meant to represent.

So too with the real Narnia. The Narnia of the Chronicles was merely a shadow-world, an attempt at representing the true Narnia in two-dimensions or as mere shadows. In the true Narnia where every stone has meaning, and every blade of grass reflects the handiwork of God and no good is ever lost.

One can understand the purpose of the Tabernacle in a similar way.

When the Jews built the Tabernacle their goal was not to build a model of our world, rather they built the true world, the world as it is meant to be. One who visits the Tabernacle will experience this true world: they will see how each element and detail of the true world reflects the will of God. They will come to understand how those elements fit together in the service of God. They will see angels marking the path, and they will see that word of God comes forth calling out to man. Our world is the shadow-world, the dream, the attempt to take the real world and draw it on a piece of paper.

Furthermore, the Tabernacle is not the end of days. One reaches the true Narnia only after death, but one visits the Tabernacle and returns to the shadow-world. To what end?

The Tabernacle imbues the visitor with understanding and insight. After seeing the real world, the shadow-world makes sense. The parts of our world may be more clouded and less vibrant, but they still reflect the one God. The angels of God are still here but enveloped in mist, and the word of God still rings forth, but muted and more difficult to hear.

One visits the Tabernacle in hopes of a rendezvous with God. One returns from the visit with the realization that God was really here, in our world, the whole time.

The destruction of the Tabernacle and, later, the Temple, leaves us without means to experience the true world. Nevertheless, we can attempt to recreate that experience by studying the Tabernacles blueprints and learning the ritual that surrounds it. More importantly, we can work towards constantly making our world a better reflection of the true world. This is the mission of the Jewish People, a mission every Jew takes part in when they reach majority: “to perfect the world under the sovereignty of God,” to transform the world we inhabit into the world of the Tabernacle.

Thanksgiving Class (Part 3)

We’ve been discussing how to read the verse in Micah (4:5) which foretells that the nations will walk in the name of their gods, while the Jews will forever walk in the name of the Lord our God. The classical commentaries read the two halves of the verse as contrasting. The nations worship of their gods will last only until the end of days (when they recognize the true God), or, even worse, the false gods will lead those nations to ruin and destruction. Yet, both R’ Morris J. Raphall in his Thanksgiving sermon of 1858 and R’ Shmuel Rabniowitz addressing Pope Benedict XVI at the Western Wall in 2009 read the verse as affirming, opening a door to religious inclusivism.

Is there room for such inclusivism or pluralism in Jewish theology?

A thesis that accepts this approach was formulated by the 18th century German Talmudic scholar, and anti–Sabbatean, R’ Yaakov Emden. In his work Luach Eres (see article on page 531 here), he asserts that the blessing of the Amidah prayer against heretics is not referring to anyone of another (non-Jewish) religion. In fact, he says, anyone who truly believes in a different religion (even the most distorted and confused of them) with a full heart has not sinned. However, if one were to convert from the religion they believe in for external reasons, such as for money, fame, revenge, or lust, such a person is a meshumad, a rebel or destroyer. Even were that person to convert from the religion they truly believe to Judaism, such a person is not a convert.

R’ Emden continues providing theological opening for R’ Raphall and R’ Rabinowitz:

However, one who worships their god since he knows nothing else and recognizes no other, if he does so from a pure heart, he is free from sin. And we do not hold back from him the rewards he deserves for his proper intent. For our Sages say as follows, “the righteous of the nations of the world have a share in the world to come.” Furthermore, Jeremiah praises them, “Does a nation rebel against its god, though it is not truly God?” (unless, of course, one forsakes their original religion for they believe they have found the truth elsewhere for then they do so not as a rebellion). And it says, “All the nations shall walk each in the name of their god,”... For God wants the (proper intentions of the heart, for he seeks all hearts.

R’ Emden’s thesis leaves many unanswered questions. How can the prohibition against idol-worship be violated if one who truly believes in their own religion is free from sin? What if a Jew believes in the truth of another religion, is such a person free from sin? Perhaps R’ Emden would limit his contention to monotheistic religions, similar to R’ Raphall’s reading of Micah, “Each denomination may follow its own ideas of divine worship,” the divine is the one God, the style of worship is different. However we address these issues R’ Emden’s theology is (perhaps unknown to R’ Raphall) a basis of unity to R’ Raphall’s vision.

I have no stake in the internal Christian controversy of salvation by works or by grace. While there may be Jewish scholars who would be uncomfortable with the formulation of R’ Emden, it is the rare traditional Jew that would exclude the righteous of other faiths from eternal reward. Lewis, however, has to deal with this question and does in The Last Battle. We have discussed this elsewhere, but in our context Lewis’ inclusion of Emeth in the Narnian eternity suggests he agrees with R’ Raphall’s pluralistic statement, “Every religious body adopts practically the same rendering of the words of the prophet. (Micah iv.5.) “Each denomination may follow its own ideas of divine worship and we will adhere to our idea!”

Next, we'll turn back to our Narnian Ba'alei Teshuva (those who have repented)! 

Thanksgiving Class

In my annual Thanksgiving class this past Thursday, we studied the first section of a Thanksgiving sermon given by Rabbi Morris J. Raphall on the Thanksgiving commemorated in New York in November 1858. R' Raphall quoted the verse in Micah (4:5), "Though all the nations walk each in the names of its gods, we will walk in the name of the Lord our God forever and ever." R' Raphall, against the reading of the traditional commentators, uses this verse to speak of interreligious unity. 

In that context I quoted the story of Emeth, the Carlomene in The Last Battle who achieves salvation. I think Emeth is a fascinating character and one who we will speak about in greater length in the future. 

Unfortunately, I failed to record the class so I'm considering writing up the relevant sections here over the next few days. Stay tuned... 

Retaining Childhood

In our quest to define valiance we have temporarily shifted our focus from Reepicheep to Lucy. The adult Lucy was called Queen Lucy the Valiant it seems, because she always “remained gay and golden-haired.” Perhaps unlike the other Pevensies she did not change as she grew older, she retained childhood. This, I claimed, displays her valiance. However, to demonstrate this we must examine whether retaining childhood is desirable for religious man. 

The adult is too clever. Utility is his guiding light. The experience of God is unavailable to those approaching it with a businesslike attitude. Only the child can breach the boundaries that segregate the finite from the infinite. Only the child with his simple faith and fiery enthusiasm can make the miraculous leap into the bosom of God... When it came to faith, the giants of Torah, the geniuses of Israel, became little children, with all their ingenuousness, gracefulness, simplicity, their tremors of fear, their vivid experiences and their devotion to them... Whenever [Moses] fell before God, he cried like a child. Who can fall before his father, raise his eyes to him alone, to seek consolation and salvation, if not the child! ... The mature, the adult, are not capable of the all-embracing and all-penetrating outpouring of the soul. The most sublime crown we can give a great man sparkles with the gems of childhood. (Divrei Hagut Ve-ha'arakha, pp.159-160; in English: Shiurei Harav, pp.63-64)

In the above passage. R’ Joseph B. Soloveitchik speaks of the childlike nature necessary for one to truly trust, pray to, and devote themselves to God. An adult is too practical, too sophisticated. Only one with emotional purity and unbridled enthusiasm can reach out to the Infinite. 

And, indeed, Lucy’s childness reveals itself in just those occasions. When seeing Aslan for the first time in Prince Caspian, Lucy, “Never stopped to think whether he was a friendly lion or not. She rushed to him. She felt her heart would burst if she lost a moment.” Similarly, when Aslan reveals himself to Lucy in the Magician’s house in The Voyage of the Dawn Treader Lucy, “Ran forward with a little cry of delight and with her arms stretched out.” And finally, when unable to escape the Dark Island Lucy (and only Lucy) prays a childlike prayer, “Aslan, Aslan, if ever you loved us at all, send us help now.” Like a child demanding the purchase of a toy saying, “If you don’t buy it for me, it shows that you don’t love me.” 

But Aslan listens. Aslan rejoices in Lucy’s unbridled love, trust, and hope as a father rejoices in every action of his children. Therefore, at the end of time it is Lucy who, “was drinking everything in even more deeply than the others.” It was she who could integrate more fully into the true Narnia. 

Lewis himself notes the importance of retaining childhood at the end of the Silver Chair. In a parenthetical comment he notes, “Even in this world, of course, it is the stupidest children who are most childish and the stupidest grown-ups who are most grownup.” He expands on this in Mere Christianity:

[Christ] wants a child's heart, but a grown-up's head. He wants us to be simple, single-minded, affectionate, and teachable, as good children are; but He also wants every bit of intelligence we have to be alert at its job, and in first-class fighting trim. 

In An Experiment in Criticism Lewis enumerates other positive characteristics of childhood:

If we are to use the words ‘childish’ and ‘infantile’ as terms of disapproval, we must make sure that they refer only to those characteristics of childhood which we become better and happier by outgrowing. Who in his sense would not keep, if he could, that tireless curiosity, that intensity of imagination, that facility of suspending disbelief, that unspoiled appetite, that readiness to wonder, to pity, and to admire?”

Like R’ Soloveitchik, Lewis provides a list of childhood characteristics that have value, and should be held on to, even by a grownup. While not exactly the same, and perhaps disagreeing on R’ Soloveitchik’s tremors of fear, the lists appear to complement each other. 

Lucy, by not changing as she has grown up, presumably retains these characteristics. And indeed, we see manifestations of these characteristics even in the short time the Chronicles relate to Lucy as an adult. For example, in The Horse and His Boy it is Lucy who is willing to give Rabadash another chance and it is Lucy who retells the adventures of her and her siblings entrance into Narnia. In The Last Battle, it is Lucy who pities the dwarfs who cannot see the grandeur that surrounds them, and Lucy is the one described as “drinking everything in even more deeply than the others.” 

Our next step is then to determine how to concretize these characteristics into “valiance.” For this, we need to define one more term. In the context of her being titled Queen Lucy the Valiant we are told that she remains, “gay and golden-haired.” So, our next step is to understand how Lewis utilizes the term “gay.” 

Evil Disguised as Good

After many posts, we have finally identified the true enemy of Narnia, as seen in the Last Battle, and discerned how he operates. The true enemy is the devil, whose name in the world of Narnia is Tash. He operates through subtle trickery, posing as a force of good, taking control of innocent people (and talking beasts), and thus bringing them to evil. In Calormen we see a society that, to a great degree, has fallen to Tash. The society is strictly hierarchical. Children are sold as slaves and into unwanted marriages. Laws are created by the elite but apply only the peasants. Thus, the elite can act with no moral compunction as they are the law, and the peasant can likewise as they know that laws are simply instituted to control them.  

With the ascension of Shift, the process of evil posing as good began in Narnia. The first step was Shift convincing Puzzle that it would be good for society to pretend he was Aslan. This eventually gave Shift ultimate power to determine what was good for everyone. The next step was when the Calormenes (spurred by Tash) arrived on the scene. They provided Shift with the opportunity and excuse (to fill the coffers of “Aslan”) to sell slaves and murder trees all in the name of Aslan. Finally, Tash engineered the final step: conflating himself, evil, with Aslan. Given time to mature this would have eventually caused worship of Aslan to transform into worship of Tash. While the name on the lips of Narnians may have been Aslan (or some derivative), their worship would have been accepted by Tash (just as Emeth's was accepted by Aslan). As it is, Tash had other plans, and Narnia was conquered by those already loyal to him.       

As we saw in our previous post, the N.I.C.E. from That Hideous Strength follow the same pattern. It poses as a force of good for society while slowly taking over and deciding what is good for everyone. N.I.C.E. was also headed (literally) by the devil himself.

The theme of evil posing as good only to then gain the power to define what is good, is found in others of Lewis’ writings. An example is Mrs. Fidget, from the chapter on Affection in Lewis’ “The Four Loves.” Mrs. Fidget, we are told, lived for her family. In fact, she did so much for her family, that it was far beyond what any of them wanted or cared for. And what made it worse is, “They had to help. Indeed, they were always having to help. That is, they did things for her to help her to do things for them which they didn't want done.” One can only imagine Mrs. Fidget thinking what a wonderful mother and wife she was and feeling so superior due to the sacrifices she was making. When, actually, she was tricked into harming her family, performing evil deeds, and was completely governed by pride. 

Given Lewis’ idea of how evil operates, we would assume that true goodness should leave others to be and not do things “for their own good.” This appears explicitly in the aftermath of the first battle for Narnia. After the defeat of the White Witch, the two kings and two queens, “liberated young dwarfs and young satyrs from being sent to school, and generally stopped busybodies and interferers and encouraged ordinary people who wanted to live and let live.” This remarkable statement suggests that even the White Witch, unquestionably evil, was faulted - not only for making it always winter in Narnia and turning the innocent into stone - but also for not letting people do their own thing. 

We'll think a little more about this in our next post.

Emeth and the Worship of Evil

In our last post we attempted to learn the true nature of the Calormene god Tash. We saw that Tash is not simply an imaginary chieftain god in the made-up mythology of Calormen. Rather, Tash is an actual being who is Aslan’s opposite, evil incarnate. Speaking from the perspective of other works of Lewis, we would say that Tash is the Chief devil, occupying the lowest rung of the Lowerarchy. He is the dark Oyarsa who rebelled against God, and transformed the world into a battleground between good and evil. Our question was, if so, how were the Calormenes to know that what they thought was a god, was really the devil? 

Let us begin our analysis with Emeth. We will have much to say about Emeth (whose name translated from Hebrew means Truth) in future posts, but for now we would like to understand how he finds his way into the Narnian post-world paradise. Emeth is a Calormene and a devoted servant of Tash. Yet, because his worship of Tash was not vile and because he strove to find truth, he is called a servant of Aslan and attains salvation. Understandably, this has caused much consternation especially amongst Evangelical Christians (see for example here and here) who believe that salvation is attainable only through faith in Christ and not through works. Nonetheless, the existence of someone like Emeth demonstrates that one can have been fooled into thinking that Tash, evil incarnate, is actually good. Evil can and will pose as good and develop arguments as to why he is good, while all the time subtly promoting evil. 

When evil poses as good it will ensnare and sometimes trap innocent lives. In the That Hideous Strength, N.I.C.E. poses as a source of law and order while at the same time torturing innocents, brutally enforcing police law, and murdering dissenters. What posed as good, was actually the worship of evil - and not just in these actions. But as we learn later in the story, the core of N.I.C.E. is the true worship of Satan. 

The worship of Tash presumably started in a similar way. By mixing in some good morals with the evils of human sacrifice and the like, Tash convinced common folk to worship him, while actually leading them towards the side of evil. Some, like Emeth, do not succumb to the temptation of evil and believe that they worship a kind and just god. Such people are eventually shown the truth (as Emeth's name suggest) and are accepted by Aslan. Others, like Aravis, see the evil and escape. Most, however, eventually fail. Arsheesh adopted the foundling Shasta, certainly a moral and righteous deed, but later sold him into slavery. 

Shift also attempts to pose evil as good. He convinces innocent Narnian citizens to kill the dryads. He argues that the selling of Narnians to Calormen as slaves is for their own good, He declares that, “True freedom means doing what I tell you.” All in the name of the good Aslan! However, he is actually serving Tash. It is no wonder Shift eventually declares Aslan and Tash are one. For Shift, the antichrist, is attempting to merge the two so that worship in the name of Aslan will actually be worship of Tash. 

Were evil obviously so, most people would simply reject it. It is when evil poses as good that it becomes such a danger. Unfortunately, and throughout Lewis' writings, we see that this strategy is successful and by the time evil is recognized as such, many have been completely corrupted. 

Tash the Irresistible, the Inexorable

The Calormenes worship, bless, curse, and swear in the name of the “god” Tash. The first we hear of Tash is in The Horse and His Boy when Aravis introduces herself as a descendant of Tash. Whether this truly happened (in the history of the Narnian universe) or whether this was a ploy by which the Tisrocs ensured they could keep power is unclear. Either way, we see plenty of invocations in the name of Tash in The Horse and His Boy, but not much to tell us of the true nature of Tash. For all we know, Tash is simply the chief god in an imaginary construct of Calormene mythology, similar to Greek and Roman mythology. Of course, such theological heresy would be denied by all true Narnians who would regard Tash as simply imaginary. 

In fact, denial of Tash’s existence does appear to be the general belief of the Narnians. This is stated explicitly by the Lamb (perhaps not coincidentally) in The Last Battle, “I don't believe there's any such person as Tash. But if there was, how could Aslan be friends with him?” Interestingly, the Calormenes do not deny the existence of Aslan. When, at the end of The Horse and His Boy, Aslan appears in Archenland, Rabadash, the prince of Calormen does not even seem surprised. Rather, they consider Aslan a horrible phantasm who supports Narnia and thus an enemy of Tash. 

One of the major theological surprises in The Last Battle is that Tash is real. Upon seeing Tash, Tirian, Jewel, and even Eustace and Jill are shocked. This forces us to change our entire approach to the spiritual powers that are at play in the Narnian universe. Tash is not the imaginary leader of pretend gods, but an actual being upon whom the sun does not shine and who emits a foul odor strong enough to kill natural vegetation. The question, of course, is if Tash is real, who or what is he? How does he exist in a world ruled by Aslan’s father the Emperor over the Sea? 

Our answer comes from Aslan himself upon being questioned by the Calormene Emeth. As we will recall, Emeth enters the paradise of Aslan thinking it is the country to Tash. When he meets the great lion, Emeth assumes that his time is up, for he has been a faithful servant of Tash, not of Aslan. Yet, Aslan accepts all the service Emeth has done for Tash as having been done for him. Why? Aslan explains:

Then by reasons of my great desire for wisdom and understanding, I overcame my fear and questioned the Glorious One and said, Lord, is it then true, as the Ape said, that thou and Tash are one? The Lion growled so that the earth shook (but his wrath was not against me) and said, It is false. Not because he and I are one, but because we are opposites, I take to me the services which thou hast done to him. For I and he are of such different kinds that no service which is vile can be done to me, and none which is not vile can be done to him. Therefore, if any man swear by Tash and keep his oath for the oath's sake, it is by me that he has truly sworn, though he know it not, and it is I who reward him. And if any man do a cruelty in my name, then, though he says the name Aslan, it is Tash whom he serves and by Tash his deed is accepted.

Tash, then, is the incarnate of evil parallel to Aslan who is the incarnate of good. The Narnian universe is inhabited by an evil being that promotes and rewards wickedness, cruelty, and falsehoods. This being, Tash, is not a god as imagined by the Calormens, but Aslan’s opposite. This is why Tash is the enemy of Narnia. For it is the country that worships Aslan.

This revelation, however, raises even more questions. Did the Calormenes realize they were worshipping evil? Is it their fault if they did not know? Could they simply have assumed Tash is a just and righteous god? The answer to this question I believe is key to understanding Lewis’ belief on the identity of the true enemy of a religious person and a religious nation. It is not another religion worshipping God in a different way, but a sect of people (religious or not) who worship evil.

Resetting the Stage for The Last Battle

In our series of posts on The Last Battle we have been trying to identify the true enemy to which Narnia eventually falls. The superficial answer is that Narnia fell due to internal strife caused by Shift’s false Aslan which was apprehended by Calormene as a way to gain power. The enemy is then the anti-Christ who in fact brings ruin and destruction at the hands of Narnia’s sworn enemy. 

This answer alone, however, raises significant questions especially, why did the Narnians follow the anti-Christ and transgress the sin of apostasy? How could they not see that Shift was out for his own physical desires and had no spiritual aims whatsoever? In our previous post we suggested that the situation, especially in northern Narnian, had, for many years, been one of upheaval and unrest. Bandits held sway, and a Narnian king lost his life in battle. While his young successor carried onward and eventually brought peace to the region, he revealed himself to be immature and unable to provide the people with the stability they craved. Shift realized that Aslan could provide such stability, even (or especially) an Aslan that behaves as a brutal dictator. 

It is now time to turn to the Calormenes. In a previous post we explained why the Calormene resemblance to the Ottoman Empire is a red-herring and is used to create a King Arthur-like atmosphere in which Narnia represents Jerusalem. In addition, we saw that the true war between Narnia and Calomene is on the relationship between the nobility and the common folk. We are thus left trying to characterize Tash. As we see in The Last Battle, Tash is not a false God constructed by the Calormenes, but is instead an actual being. 

In our next post we will attempt to determine the nature of Tash.

The Last Battle: Tirian and the Rule of Law

In the previous post we saw that the northern part of Narnia at the beginning of The Last Battle is not a land of peace and prosperity, far from it. Northern Narnia had become a land overrun by outlaws and engulfed by a great war. The war was not a clean victory for the Narnians, but one which saw the death of their king and, presumably, friends and neighbors. The young king who has taken the throne is brave and daring in battle, he put the country back together. But he is still immature even rash. The citizenry is, without a doubt, still on edge. Puzzle’s comment to Shift, “isn’t everything right already?” even without oranges and bananas, may be technically true, but if it is, it is only in the recent past that it has become so.

Turning to King Tirian we find his actions in The Last Battle fraught with inconsistency. This causes us to question how much confidence he could have aroused in his people. At first, he is in no rush to determine whether Aslan has returned to Narnia. He then rashly (as Lewis describes it) seeks to avenge the murdered dryad. When this leads him and Jewel to kill two unarmed Calormenes (who unquestionably deserved it) Tirian is suddenly ashamed of his actions. 

King Tirian did win the war after harsh battles in the north, Aslan himself compliments Tirian for his firmness in Narnia’s final hours, yet as a leader Tirian is still immature, doubtfully earning the people's trust, and clearly unprepared for the intrigue of Shift and the Calormenes.

One might compare Tirian to King Saul, the great warrior of ancient Israel who also stood firm in the face of a mortal enemy, but whose actions were inconsistent. This inconsistency is most clearly demonstrated in King Saul’s love-hate relationship with his son-in-law the future King David. But inconsistency in King Saul's actions is constant, especially when considering his periodic willingness to be led by the populous rather than lead the populous. 

King Saul listens to the people and does not wipe out the evil tribe of Amalek (Samuel 1, chapter 15), yet he utterly destroys the priestly city of Nov despite their innocence (Samuel 1, chapter 22). King Saul (Samuel 1, chapter 14) declares a fast after a victory against the Philistines weakening the army and limiting their ability to chase down the retreating enemy. When his son Jonathan eats (he did not know about the declaration), King Saul is ready to kill him. Yet, in this case he is persuaded by the people to spare Jonathan’s life. No one can doubt King Saul's overall fidelity to God, love for his country, and bravery and sacrifice in battle. He centralizes Israel after its disastrous history in the book of Judges. But his inconsistencies make him unacceptable before God and the prophet Samuel, and eventually his kingdom is lost. 

With King Tirian the situation is worse. His unwillingness to address "Aslan" quickly, his unwillingness to heed the advice of the centaur, and his rashness in responding to the actions of this "Aslan" destroy all of Narnia.

With this as background we can, perhaps, understand the willingness of the Narnians to be taken in by Shift. Through “Aslan,” Shift provides a stability and consistency not seen in perhaps decades. True the yoke is heavy and the work is hard, but the hardness is welcome because it demonstrates that leadership and the rule of law, missing for so long, has finally returned.

The Last Battle: Context

At this point in our discussion some may be wondering what this all has to do with Torah or Judaism. We’ll get there (maybe), but for the moment we need to set the background for “The Last Battle.”

A typical reader opening The Last Battle may assume that all is peaceful in Narnia. We are not told of any active battles. The King, a young man between the ages of 20 and 25, is out at his little hunting lodge without much of a retinue, not something a King should do should there be a threat of danger. In fact, we are explicitly told that with respect to Narnia's arch-enemy, “there was peace between Narnia and Calormen in those days.”

However, there are a number of clues hinting that the seemingly idyllic portrait is not correct. The Narnian timeline tells us that 21 years before "towers are built to guard Lantern waste, where there has been an increase in outlaw activity." Furthermore, we see evidence of great battles in the recent past. In discussing the relationship between King Tirian and his best friend Jewel the Unicorn we are told, “Each had saved the other’s life in the wars?” What wars? Tirian is not old enough to have participated in wars decades before! Even more telling is the explicit statement later in the story that King Tirian’s father, King Erlian, had been severely wounded, and apparently killed, by the giant. What giant? 

As a first step, let us try to determine who the enemy was in the battles that Tirian fought. Here are some possibilities:

1. Calormen
2. Some other enemy from the islands to the east or the wilds of the west 
3. The just mentioned outlaws or a civil war
4. The Giants on Narnia’s northern border
5. The Giants of Harfang

Possibility 1 seems to fall away immediately due to the declaration that there was peace between the countries in those days. Should war have been fought five years earlier, such a statement would not have been made. Possibility 2 would require having a new enemy pop out of nowhere. Why do that? Possibilities 3, 4, and 5 or some combination of them seem to be most likely. We know that King Erlian was killed by the giant and thus it would make sense that these battles continued into the reign of Tirian.

Whoever it is, perhaps the wars, possibly instigated by the increase of outlaw activity in the region, give us further insight into the true situation of Narnia at that time. All is not comfortable and at peace. Not too long before a Narnian king was killed in battle. Further conflict almost cost the life of the new, young, king. Could this have led the citizens of Narnia to start doubting Aslan’s kindness? Could desperation with a shaky political situation make them willing to accept Aslan’s arrival despite all evidence to the contrary? And, no matter what enemy it may have been, we have still not explained King Tirian’s unwillingness to immediately investigate the arrival of Aslan. Could Tirian have become too self-confident?

To be continued…