The Air of Narnia

"The Narnian air was bringing back to him a strength he had won when he sailed the Eastern Seas with King Caspian..." 

The Silver Chair

The concept of having a place dedicated for certain tasks finds itself in many areas of life. Indeed, it may even spark the modern debate of returning to the office. But the concept of hallowed ground, made sacred by our own actions or those of our ancestors, finds its source at the beginning of Jewish religious consciousness. The Talmud praises one who has a set place for prayer (Brachot 6b), "Rabbi Ḥelbo said in the name of Rav Huna: One who sets a fixed place for his prayer, the God of Abraham assists him," and goes on to assert that Abraham himself did the same. Pray in a place once, and you have prayed. Continue praying in the same place, and the place becomes a place a prayer: a place that helps you pray and where God himself comes to listen. In fact, King Solomon requested that the Temple serve as this place (1 Kings 8:29), "May Your eyes be open day and night toward this House, toward the place of which You have said, ‘My name shall abide there’; may You heed the prayers that Your servant will offer toward this place." 

Upon Eustace's return to Narnia in the Silver Chair he demonstrates strength and a sense of adventure that Jill did not expect from her schoolmate. Lewis attributes this to the Narnian air restoring to him the strength he had won decades ago (Narnian) during his adventures on the Dawn Treader. Lewis notes the same phenomenon with respect to Edmund and to Jill herself upon their second returns. Concerning Edmund, Lewis writes, "The air of Narnia had been working upon him ever since they arrived on the island, and all his old battles came back to him, and his arms and fingers remembered their old skill." 

There are two complementary ways this occurs. First, a return to a place makes it appropriate for actions that have already occurred there. When I sit in my place in the synagogue, I will naturally default to the right mindset for prayer. Second, the place itself returns to me a capability. I always pray here and thus, even if I'm not in the appropriate frame of mind, the place itself gives grants me the ability to pray. 

So too with Narnia. When Eustace, Edmund, and Jill return to Narnia they are naturally poised for adventure including the skills and hardships it comes with. Eustace's alertness, Edmund's swordplay, and Jill's stealth may have been aroused elsewhere, but in Narnia it emerges on its own. 

But even more, Narnia itself lends itself to such positive traits. Lewis makes this point via the observations of Tirian when considering Eustace and Jill, "in fact they both seemed to be already much stronger and bigger and more grown-up than they had been when he first met them a few hours ago. It is one of the effects which Narnian air often has on visitors from our world." 

Why, or how, does Narnia do this? No doubt it is due to the actions of the Narnian Lords and her other heroes who define Narnia's character. If Narnia is a place of bravery and strength, it is due to Peter the Magnificent. If it is a place of justice and righteousness, it is due to Edmund the Just. And if is a place of valiance and complete faithfulness, it is due to Lucy the Valiant. So, when Eustace and Jill (or anyone else) leave our world, one also resplendent with heroes, but also too much with the opposite, and enter Narnia these characteristics will emerge. 

There is another possible explanation specifically tied to the fact that visitors to Narnia are almost always children. Perhaps Lewis is making the following point. For better or for worse, our world keeps children as children. The Pevensies enter Narnia to insurrection, weapons, and war. Eustace is forced to join a quest of historic magnitude. Jill to responsibilities of the greatest importance. Are our children ready for that? Would we send our preteens on winter searches with a marshwiggle as a guide? Would we entrust even our young adults with national responsibility?

Children in Narnia are stronger, bigger, and more grown up because they are allowed to be just that. And that is Lewis' goal with the Chronicles of Narnia. They are children's tales with the express goal of doing something more - inculcating moral and divine truths. When our children enter Narnia, they are asked to become something even better than bigger and stronger, they are asked to be moral, truthful, and dedicated to God. 

The Gnomes of Bism

Prince Rilian is not the only one bewitched by the Lady of the Green Kirtle. The gnomes of Bism were also under her spell. Our first encounter with these gnomes is after our heroes, Eustace, Jill, and Puddleglum, fall down deep into the earth. The gnomes arrive to bring them to the Lady of the Green Kirtle and appear before our heroes, sad and gloomy. They appear so sad, in fact, that, rather than being afraid, Jill’s first reaction is to want to cheer them up. 

Of course, it turns out that the gnomes are not like that at all. Their true nature reawakens when they are freed from the witch’s enchantment, “leaping, turning cart-wheels, standing on their heads, playing leap-frog, and letting off huge crackers,” clearly a playful lot.

The story of the gnomes’ enchanting is not told by Lewis. Perhaps the Lady of the Green Kirtle entered Bism and overpowered the gnomes with her magic. Or perhaps, similar to her enchantment of Rilian, she enticed the gnomes of Bism with power and riches and then was able to seize control of them. Either way, Golg, the gnome who relates the gnomes' story to our heroes, succinctly summarizes the nature of the enchantment:

We didn't know who we were or where we belonged. We couldn't do anything, or think anything, except what she put into our heads.

His description teaches us something about becoming enchanted, and maybe even about becoming enamored or entranced.

The first symptom, or perhaps the first step, to being enchanted is not knowing oneself and one’s purpose. The spiritual danger of loss of self was already commented on by Screwtape (remember Screwtape is a devil, so everything is backwards), “As a preliminary to detaching him from the Enemy [God], you wanted to detach him from himself…” The midrash similarly states, “Just as their faces are unlike each other, so are they unlike in disposition. Rather each and every individual has his own individual disposition.” Loss of individuality dampens the “image of God” which imbues every human. Losing hold of oneself causes confusion in the knowledge of to Whom one truly belongs.

Each gnome looked different and unique, “some had tails and others not, some wore great beards and others had very round, smooth faces, big as pumpkins. There were long, pointed noses, and long, soft noses like small trunks, and great blobby noses. Several had single horns in the middle of their foreheads.” This diversity in appearance could have reflected a vibrance of thoughts and ideas, a multitude of strengths and talents with each individual using their uniqueness (and banding together to reflect a grand panoply) in the service of God. But it didn’t.

The gnomes’ lost identity and purpose allowed the Lady of the Green Kirtle to put into their heads whatever she wanted. She was not concerned with individuality and uniqueness and certainly not interested in the service of God, “But in one respect they [the gnomes] were all alike: every face in the whole hundred was as sad as a face could be.”  

Not surprisingly, the powerful and controlling prefer that the masses be the same and easy to control. To all fall to the lowest common denominator, to be sad and gloomy. Unlike God, Who wants individuals to be sons and serve Him from a sense of love, duty, and responsibility, human tyrants want slaves, with no individuality and no concept of God. Thus, she puts only "glum and gloomy things" there. 

We do not see that the gnomes of Bism recognize Aslan. But once freed and returned to themselves they have, once again, achieved the capacity to realize God.

Narnian Ba'alei Teshuva: Rilian (Part 2)

It's been too long since we started talking about Rilian and his return to Narnia. See here for our previous post. 

In Isaac Asimov’s Foundation series, we meet Hans Pritcher, a captain in the Foundation’s armed forces known for his incredible abilities and daring, but never promoted due to a streak of rebelliousness. As this was a time of Mayoral tyranny in the Foundation, Pritcher also secretly served the democratic underground. The assent of the Mule, a mutant with extraordinary mental powers, greatly interested Pritcher who immediately and correctly identified him as the greatest threat to the Foundation. Indeed, Terminus (the Foundation capital) is eventually taken by the Mule and Pritcher’s last attempt to assassinate the Mule is foiled. Pritcher is captured and “converted” by the Mule, under whom Pritcher becomes a general and the Mule’s most trusted advisor.

The Mule’s enchantment of Pritcher (unlike the Lady of the Green Kirtle’s enchantment of Rilian) was completely involuntary, and in fact was fought against to the very last. Yet, what happened when the enchantment wore off? What became of Pritcher when the Mule died? He did not return to the Foundation, but instead took over the Mule’s kingdom. He tried, and failed, to be the Mule’s successor to continue the work of his captor. Though Pritcher’s will was no longer bound by the enchantment, the enchantment still controlled him.

The Talmud states, "A man commits a transgression only if a spirit of folly enters him."  Note the Talmud's formulation. Sin occurs when someone is overtaken by something from the outside. The person becomes enchanted with another's spouse (as in the discussion of the Talmud), an object that belongs to someone else, or a foodstuff that does not fit dietary restrictions. No doubt this happens to all of us from time to time despite our best efforts to the contrary. the ultimate question then becomes, what to do when the enchantment wears off? 

Having fallen once do get up, admit to what we have done wrong and try to do better next time? Or do we stay under the enchantment even though it no longer has sway?

Rilian could have crawled back under the enchantment. His thought process would have been, OK, I’m free now, but being a prince (even in name only) with a beautiful Lady at my side isn’t all that bad, and I’ve grown pretty comfortable with it. Maybe we can swing a deal? After all, going back to Narnia will be a lot of work, I don’t know any of the latest fashions (a la Bree) or what's happened to my baseball team, maybe they won’t even want me. 

But he doesn’t do that. Despite his earlier failings Rilian remains true to Aslan and to his people.

In fact, even the one enticement he almost falls speaks to his loyalty.

“My father went to the world's end," said Rilian thoughtfully. "It would be a marvellous thing if his son went to the bottom of the world."

Even here he speaks of following in the footsteps of his father, not following a different path.

Thus, Rilian is a complete repentant and is welcome home to Narnia.

Narnian Ba'alei Teshuva: Rilian

Moving from Voyage of the Dawn Treader to The Silver Chair we find additional ba’alei teshuva, those who have returned to the true religion and teachings of God. For the sake of these posts, we are not considering those who have done some wrong and repent. From that perspective the entire story of the Silver Chair is one of repentance: Jill showing off and admitting her sin, Jill and Eustace failing the signs, eating the talking stag of Harfang, and much more. Rather, we are interested in individuals who have undergone a momentous change in their worldview, from one that is anti-God or ignorant of Him, to that of a true belief in the Divine.

In the Silver Chair the central penitent is, of course, Prince Rilian. Once the slave and tool of the Lady of the Green Kirtle, Rilian returns to being a worthy prince, and then king, of Narnia. Now, one may quibble with characterizing Rilian as a penitent. After all, he was enchanted by the Lady of the Green Kirtle and forced to do her bidding. He was not responsible for his actions and thus never a sinner in the first place. Let us analyze this and see where the culpability lies. We might find our own experiences in Rilian’s story.

Prince Rilian is the only son of his father the great King Caspian the Seafarer and his mother the Queen, the Star’s daughter. While on a pleasure trip in the northern part of Narnia as a young knight, Rilian’s mother is killed by a huge venomous worm. He appears to have sworn vengeance against the worm and for days returns to the place of his mother’s death to hunt for it. 

However, after about a month Rilian started to change. Though he continued to ride out every day, it no longer seemed that he was tired and worn out from seeking the worm. Rilian takes into his confidence the Lord Drinian who rides with Rilian to the place of the Queen’s death. There he sees the most beautiful lady beckoning the young prince. The next day Rilian disappears, presumably having followed the lady into either unknown lands or to his death.

Of course, we know what actually happened. The lady was the Lady of Green Kirtle, Queen of the Underland. She casts an enchantment over Rilian such that he no longer remembers who he is - except for an hour every day and during that time he is bound to a magical Silver Chair. He remains under the enchantment until he is saved from the Silver Chair by Puddleglum, Eustace, and Jill.

With that as background, let us return to our question. Is Rilian a ba’al teshuva (a repentant)? Or is he someone who was forced against his will to forget the proper upbringing of his youth? It is true that he was under an enchantment, but the first move towards evil, the initial step away from God, was on his own volition.

How often do we experience this ourselves? How often does one wrong turn, one mistake in judgement lead inexorably down a steep slope of moral degeneracy that we feel unable to escape from? On that slide we lose our way and no longer remember who we are and what we are meant to represent. Still, even in that state, every once in a while, we wake up, we remember our true selves and what we ought to be. But we feel that our hands are tied, that we are unable to escape. Is it true? Are the bonds really that strong? Could we not free ourselves had we sincerely wanted to?

Rilian, as we know, cannot do it on his own, but he is sent help. Three saviors cut his cords, freeing him to return to himself. At that moment he still has a choice. By making the right choice he can become a loyal servant of Aslan, but the wrong choice will force him back under the enchantment.

We will return to this in our next.

Gaiety and Valiance

Lucy, though grownup at the end of The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe, remains “gay and goldenhaired,” and is thus called Queen Lucy the Valiant. Therefore, if are to understand valiance in the character of Lucy, we must first define “gay.” 

Lewis uses the word “gay” 16 times in the Chronicles (and the word "gaiety" once). Six of those times are in The Silver Chair upon Puddleglum, Eustace, and Jill's discovery that the giants plan to eat them. Puddleglum directs the children to act “gay,” and gives us something of a definition: “Gay. As if we hadn't a care in the world.” Of course, as Lewis notes, Puddleglum, and Marsh-wiggles in general, are absolutely horrid at acting gay. In fact, they may be the exact opposite of "gay" given that Marsh-wiggles always expect the worst and act in direct opposition of carefree. 

Three times gay is used in the context of clothes. Perhaps clothes can also be carefree, but it’s difficult to imagine that Aravis, for example, when trying to trick her father into thinking how happy she was being engaged to Ahoshta, put on “her most carefree clothes.” Rather gay in this context presumably means the brightest, fanciest, and most merry clothes. This definition does not contradict the previous one, rather it explains that forces us to redefine carefree. Carefree does not mean not caring, but it means having an affectation of not caring because one is cheerful and optimistic. 

In Prince Caspian, the word gay is twice used with respect to flora: the rowans surrounding Aslan when he awakens the trees are called gay, and the hedges that Bacchus causes to sprout moments before they take down the bridge in Beruna are "gay with hawthorns." Both of these flora are colorful and bright and it would appear that “gay” here is used in the same way as with respect to clothes. 

Lewis also uses the word gay to describe wind (The Voyage of the Dawn Treader) and sound (The Horse and His Boy). The ship in the picture on the wall of Aunt Alberta’s back room (which becomes the Dawn Treader) runs before a “gay wind,” and King Lune’s hunting horn is “gay and merry.” In both of these cases the items in question presumably cause gaiety: the ship appears joyful as it sails along the waves, and the hunt is done with festivities and merriment. 

The final two occasions of the use of the description “gay” are connected with two of Narnia’s most important characters. Reepicheep, the most valiant of all beasts, is introduced as “a gay and martial mouse.” Finally, when Aslan reveals himself to Shasta in the Horse and His Boy he says “Myself,” in a voice that is “loud and clear and gay.” 

As a whole these examples suggest that “gay,” as used by Lewis in the Chronicles, means joyous, optimistic, and ready to face the future. Yet, this should not be conflated with frivolous or without seriousness (though Puddlieglum and the children likely tried to behave that in that way before the giants). After all, one would certainly not characterize Reepicheep, let alone Aslan himself, as frivolous. 

Lucy’s gaiety is what makes her so attractive to princes who value joy over graciousness, and optimism over courtliness. It is what made her so charming in the eyes of the people who saw gold in her hair. And it is what made her so beloved to Aslan in whom she placed the complete faith and devotion of a young child for a parent. 

However, “gay” alone is insufficient to characterize valiant. We see this because the two terms are also contrasted. The sound of the trumpets before King Edmund’s army on their its way to defend King Lune was “not huge and solemn like the horns of Tashbaan nor gay and merry like King Lune's hunting horn, but clear and sharp and valiant.” From this it appears that valiance has an aspect of sharpness, perhaps immediacy, that is lacking in gaiety. 

We will examine this further in our next post. 

Sefirot (Part 5)

The final Sefirah is that of Malchut or Kingship. Malchut is the ultimate synthesis of all of the Sefirot and the link which connects God to the finite world. The Kabbalists further identify Malchut with the Shechinah, the feminine mode in which humanity experiences God. It is the Shechinah that accompanies Israel throughout its long exile just like a mother who would never abandon her children. Indeed, while Kingship is inextricably tied to the House of David, it is our mother Rachel whose tears, midrashically, convince God to ultimately redeem her children, who is a Shechinah-like human manifestation.

The concept of God’s accompaniment of those in exile clearly demonstrated in The Horse and His Boy in Aslan’s accompaniment of Shasta: as a lion forcing him to join with Aravis, as a cat by the Tombs of the Ancient Kings outside of Tashbaan, and as the spirit who comforts Shasta as wanders into Narnia. God is close, personal, and a fellow wanderer, the One on whom we can unburden ourselves and will always be there to listen.       

Exile, however, is not merely a punishment for not following God’s word, despite trials and tribulations exile is yet another stage for our ultimate quest: to be a Nation of Priests bringing true enlightenment to humanity. From this perspective God is not only a fellow wanderer but a Comrade-at-Arms. R’ J. B. Soloveitchik makes this point explicitly in “Emergence of Ethical Man.” God is our leader, the leader of a small band of rebels attempting to revolutionize humanity and bring about knowledge and fidelity to the true God. As a mark of our appreciation for His Leadership we crown him our King. 

Of course, that is only one aspect of the King-subject relationship we have with God. God is very much the universal, cosmic King, creator of the universe and all it encompasses. Humanity, Israel, or any particular human, is simply one subject in His vast kingdom. From the first aspect we follow God’s commands because of our trust in His leadership and out of gratitude for His Friendship. From the second aspect we follow God’s commands for He is the ultimate ruler of all and we are mere subjects. Either way we must follow God’s commands irrespective of our understanding. 

This thought is clearly demonstrated in the Chronicles by Puddleglum the Marshwiggle. In the Silver Chair, the final sign given to Jill is that she will know the lost prince as he will be the first on her travels to ask you to do something in the name of Aslan. When that person actually appears to be a madman, Jill hesitates. But Puddleglum makes the following point, “Aslan didn't tell Pole what would happen. He only told her what to do. That fellow will be the death of us once he's up, I shouldn't wonder. But that doesn't let us off following the sign.” 

God as King suggests that the final installation of the Jewish Narnia explore this duality perhaps as follows. On the one hand our main characters understand that God is on their side. He has a stake in their quest and encourages them to succeed. On the other hand, God’s Will is not to be challenged. What happens when these two ideas clash is the theme of the final book.   

  

The final book in the Chronicles of Narnia ends with the death of every main character, the destruction of Narnia, and the curtain fall on the physical world. Of course, the story continues in the spiritual world which, in line with Lewis’ concept of transposition, of which the physical world is simply a shadow. A Jewish Narnia should not share the same fate. While martyrdom all too often found its place in Jewish history, and even appears to be an aspiration of R’ Akiva, there is ample evidence that the Jewish ideal is to live a meaningful life rather than to die an (even meaningful) death. Redemption, and the victory of good over evil, occurs in this world, not only the spiritual world. 

Rosh HaShana (the Jewish New Year) is the day when we assemble to coronate God as King and accept His judgment for the coming year. The utopian future, as captured in the prayers of the day, provides the universal vision I would expect from the end of a Jewish Narnia, 

“And all of creation will worship You, and they will bound all together as one to carry out Your will with an undivided heart.” 

In Every Generation...

Those Northern Witches always mean the same thing, but in every age they have a different plan for getting it. (The Silver Chair) 

In every generation they rise up to destroy us, and the Holy One, Blessed be He, saves us from their hands. (Passover Haggadah)

I have no idea whether or not C.S. Lewis was at all familiar with the details of the Passover seder, the ritual meal Jews partake in on the first night of Passover. At this meal, Jews celebrate and relive the Exodus from Egypt. The seder (Hebrew for 'order') ritual is laid out in the haggadah (Hebrew for 'tale') which presents the order of what is done at the meal. This includes the when to read the various texts about the Exodus, when to drink the four cups of wine, when to eat matza (the unleavened bread of affliction) and marror (the bitter herbs), and so on. 

Whether or not C.S. Lewis was familiar with the details of the seder, his description of the Northern Witches’ endless quest to rule over Narnia exactly echoes the haggadah’s assertion that evil will always attempt ultimate destruction of the Jewish people. Let us take a moment to understand the statement made by the oldest dwarf to Rilian, soon to be the young King of Narnia, in light of the statement in the haggadah, and vice-versa. 

In the haggadah, the assertion that evil will arise in every generation parallels a similar statement, “In every generation one is required to see themselves as if they left Egypt.” What does this mean? On the seder night, the night dedicated towards enmeshing and weaving Jewish youth into the tapestry of the Jewish people, time is put on hold. The myriad of threats, enemies, and evil that endanger Jews today, and have endangered them over the millennia, all become one with Pharaoh and his minions. Pogroms, inquisitions, and concentration camps all meld into an ongoing story of evil seeking to destroy the Jewish people. But no matter what form or shape evil takes, God will never allow it to triumph. Just as God emerged victorious in His battle against the Egyptians, He will also emerge victorious in the war against the current evil. 

This same lesson is that given to Prince Rilian. The prince spent ten years living in darkness. As Puddleglum worries, “Constitution ruined with living underground, I shouldn't wonder,” and this concern is certainly valid. How can someone recover from that experience? How can such a person see light without wincing? 

The oldest dwarf understood this challenge and devised a solution. It is the oldest dwarf who fits the Lewis' previous description as one who, “could just remember how his father, King Caspian, had looked when he was a young man, and saw the likeness.” And in this observation found a way to fully redeem the prince. The assertion that all Northern Witches mean the same thing takes Rilian back in time and demonstrates that he is part of a chain. His experience is only the latest battle in an ongoing war against evil. And just like Caspian and even Peter, with the help of Aslan, could overcome tremendous odds to defeat evil, so too Rilian can escape the trauma of his experience and emerge to rule justly and righteously. Times have not changed, the story is still the same, only a few irrelevant details of the plot have been rewritten. 

The oldest dwarf also has something to teach the Jewish People. What is the common denominator of the Northern Witches (of which we only know two, the White Witch and the Lady of the Green Kirtle)? What characteristics do they share that they embody God's warning to Jeremiah, “From the North the evil will come forth” (Jeremiah 1:14)? Both witches deny the true God, and see themselves in His place. Any being that believes itself divine must conquer Narnia to demonstrate its power over Aslan. Any people or ideology, be it Communism, Nazism, or even humanism, that sees itself in place of God, must attack or erode the Jewish People to demonstrate they are not merely a cheap substitute. The war is ongoing. Each battle is the same, only the means of attack have changed. But, no matter the strategy, God will emerge victorious. 

Stay safe everyone! I’m back to blogging so come back soon!

Narnians Without Narnia: Exile

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

Thinking further, Puddleglum’s resolve to “live as like a Narnian as I can even if there isn’t any Narnia,” may not be a theological statement but a socio-historical one. Such a view, I believe, speaks more to Judaism than to Christianity. Let me try to explain…

For all that the Chronicles of Narnia are Christian works, Narnia is not a religion, but a state. A citizen of a state may experience a phenomenon that is inapplicable for a religion, exile. People in exile are separated from their homeland, but does this mean they are separated from their religion? Well, perhaps they are geographically kept from the performance of certain rituals, but with respect to the core belief system, the answer is no. Religion is portable. While a religion may designate holy places, theological truths are not bound by geography.

Puddleglum, trapped in a pit which is the witch’s lands, is very much in exile. He is separated from his wigwam, his reeds and rushes, and even from the blessed places of Cair Paravel and Aslan’s How. Nonetheless, Puddleglum rightly declares, “I’m on Aslan’s side even if there isn’t any Aslan to lead it.” Indeed, even though there appears to be no Aslan in the lands ruled by the witch, the theological truth of Aslan is universal and eternal.

Not as obvious is living as a Narnian. Must a Narnian separated from Narnia observe its rituals, adhere to its moral teachings and follow its customs and mores? Perhaps here, in exile, it is sufficient to hold on to the theological truth, without all of the trappings and formality? Puddleglum addresses this as well, “live as like a Narnian as I can even if there isn’t any Narnia.” It may be hard to follow the morals and rituals of Narnia while in exile, but he will nonetheless.

Judaism is a nation-based religion. It has a homeland, Israel. When suggestions were offered to form a Jewish homeland elsewhere, be it Uganda or Ararat, these were rejected, because Judaism is not just a religion but a nation. When Jews were exiled from their homeland, they questioned their role in the Diaspora. Assuming there is a God, does He still desire our service once he has divorced us from our homeland? No less an authority than Nachmanides suggests that adherence to commandments in the Diaspora is simply to ensure continued fidelity to them until such time the exile is over.

Nevertheless, while in exile, Jews did continue to hold on not only to the theological truths of Judaism, but also to the commandments and moral teachings. Adhering to the same declaration of Puddleglum, Jews declared that they will be on God’s side even when the surrounding culture shunned them for doing so and lived like Jews even when there was no Israel.

Narnia is not a model of the Vatican and certainly not of other Christian countries such as England or Spain. Narnia is modeled on Israel, and in that role the exile from Narnia has what to say to the Jew still living in the Diaspora.

Narnians Without Narnia: Theology

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Or maybe it really doesn’t matter too much…

To be continued…

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.

But He's Good: Creation and Action

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

The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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