The Light of Darkness

A number of years ago we did a series of posts analyzing two types of 'silence' as portrayed in the Chronicles of Narnia. To quickly recap, one type of silence is that of nothingness, the silence of dread, the silence that signifies complete isolation and profound loneliness. For example, when the Dawn Treader enters the sphere of influence of the Dark Island, “Though the rowing made a good deal of noise it did not quite conceal the total silence which surrounded the ship.” This type of silence is not just a lack of noise, it is being cut off from all that is good. 

The second type of silence is what we might call the expectant silence. It is the silence that enables you to hear something else. The prophet Habakkuk (2:20) demands this second type of silence from his listeners, "And God is in His holy Abode — be silent before Him, all the earth!" Edmund also experiences such a silence as he is forced to try and move the sleigh of the White Witch. “In that silence Edmund could at last listen to the other noise properly.” The momentary silence when the Witch and Dwarf are not shouting, enables him to hear as Winter turns into Spring and as his own religious transformation begins to unfold. 

I thought of these posts as we read in this week's Torah reading about the plague of darkness. Darkness is the ninth of the ten plagues God brings upon the Egyptians, and to me, it doesn't really seem to have the same power as some of the previous ones. Fireballs of hail, billions of locusts, those are plagues! A few days of Darkness? Well, I'm sure it's not comfortable, but it seems a bit weak for the penultimate plague. 

But then I thought as follows. If silence, namely the lack of hearing, has two types, then darkness, meaning lack of sight should also have two types. One type would be the darkness of dread, fear, and isolation as the verse (Exodus 10:23) says, "People could not see one another, and for three days no one could move about..." Similar to the darkness of the Dark Island, no human interactions, none of what we expect to see. It is what is meant when we might (R"L) say, "there are dark days ahead," That doesn't mean the sun won't come out, or that it will be cloudy, but that the usual goodness of life we expect won't be there. 

But there's another type of darkness, the darkness that allows you to see something better. It's why the lights are turned off in a movie theater - because you can see the movie better without them. So, maybe the plague of darkness was not meant to be the first type of darkness. Perhaps it was meant to be the second type. In other words, the goal of the plague was not the punishment of isolation and psychological warfare. No, the goal of the plague of darkness was to have the Egyptians see something else.

What?

Actually, the bible seems to say so explicitly (Exodus 10:23), "And for all the Israelites there was light in their dwellings." The only light in Egypt was in the dwellings of the Jews, the dwellings of the people who were slaves. Which meant that these dwelling were the only thing the Egyptians were capable of seeing.  

What did the Egyptians see?

Well, presumably they saw, maybe for the first time, the lives of the slaves. Their aches and pains, their grief and sorrow. Their attempts at family life and trying to raise their children in extreme poverty. No doubt it was nothing that they did not already know, but it was a way of life that they had never seen.

The plague of darkness was not a plague at all. It was God's last-ditch effort to pull on the heartstrings and persuade the Egyptians to see the errors of their ways. "Here," God was saying, "this is the misery you have caused. You have one final chance to repent."

Of course, we know what happened. Pharoah and the Egyptian did not repent and the final plague finally forced their hand.

But interestingly enough, our Sages say there was one day of darkness left... We'll have to see what happens with that one.  

The Sound of Silence: Addendum

Previously, we defined two types of silence:

(1) Silence as a lack of hearing,

(2) Silence allowing for hearing.

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

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

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

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

To you, O God, silence is praise.

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

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

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

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

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

The Sound of Silence: Escape

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

That split the night

And touched the sound of silence

• Simon and Garfunkel, “The Sound of Silence”

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

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

How does the Dawn Treader escape from the Dark Island?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The Sound of Silence: Building Walls

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

We’ll see in the next post.

The Sound of Silence: Elijah, Job, and The Chosen

Can Jewish thought enlighten us on the topic of silence? Famously, in Chaim Potok’s, “The Chosen,” Danny, whose Hasidic father never talks to him outside of Talmud study, explains the concept of silence to Reuven, “You have to want to listen to it, and then you can hear it. It has a strange, beautiful texture. It doesn't always talk. Sometimes-sometimes it cries, and you can hear the pain of the world in it. It hurts to listen to it then. But you have to.”

In Potok’s view silence is also a means by which to hear the music of the spheres. The music is melancholy, it expresses pain because it reflects the suffering of an unredeemed world, an evil world in which millions of Jews can be taken to slaughter. The pain and anguish heard through silence is not just that of the people, but that of all of God's creations. The universe continues to sing God's praise in line with the Talmudic directive to praise God for bad tidings as He should be praised for good tidings. Therefore, the silence, even a sad silence, is inspirational and beautiful.

Perhaps not as famous is the silence heard by Elijah the Prophet on Mount Sinai. To review the story, Elijah attempts to demonstrate the power of God via the miraculous exploits on Mount Carmel. It works, God sends down a fire to consume Elijah’s sacrifice and the Jews react as Elijah desired. They kill the prophets of Ba’al and proclaim belief in the One God. But Elijah’s victory is short lived. Jezebel gives the order that he be killed and the people do not stand up to her. Elijah is forced to flee, and eventually he makes his way to Mount Sinai where he enters a cave. In the cave he has a vision. God asks him why he is there. Elijah recounts he zealousness but ultimate failure in attempting to convince Israel to leave their evil ways and return to God. He requests that God take his soul. God ignores Elijah’s request, “And He said: 'Go out, and stand on the mountain before God.' And, behold, God passed by. There was a great and strong wind that toppled the mountains, and broke the rocks before God; but God was not in the wind; and after the wind an earthquake; but God was not in the earthquake; and after the earthquake a fire; but God was not in the fire; and after the fire a small voice out of silence.”

Elijah attempted to convince the Jews of God’s presence by making loud noises and performing mighty feats, but that is not where God is found. God is found by listening to silence and through that hearing the faint chimes of the music of the spheres.

Both of the above examples demonstrate the second definition of silence (as identified in the last post), silence as a means of hearing something else. However, silence of the first definition, that which demonstrates absence and terror, is also found in the Jewish literature. In the fourth chapter of Job, Eliphaz of Teman attempts to convince Job that whatever punishment he received from God, was just. To prove his point, he relates a vision, “In thought-filled visions of the night, when deep sleep falls on men, 'Fear and trembling came upon me, causing all my bones to quake with fright.' In this vision a small voice emerges from the silence, 'Can mortals be acquitted by God? Can man be cleared by his Maker? He cannot trust His own servants, And casts reproach on His angels.' "

Eliphaz is thus cast into silence which, like the passengers on the Dawn Treader, causes fear and trembling. Something dreadful is about to fill the silence, and though faint, it is indeed crushing, a declaration that no man is innocent in the eyes of God (of course by the end of the book of Job, Eliphaz appears to be proven wrong. That issue, and the utilization of these verses in the Yom Kippur liturgy, will have to be explored elsewhere).

With all this in hand we are ready to return to the “Sound of Silence” in our next post.

The Sound of Silence

Searching YouTube earlier today for Hanukah songs by the Maccabeats, I came across their moving rendition of Simon and Garfunkel’s classic “The Sound of Silence,” starring and presented by Jew in the City. What makes this rendition unique is the contrast of the “Sound of Silence” with the beauty of the Jewish Sabbath. The take home message is clear, there is a wall of silence modern man builds around himself with his devices and ‘social networks.’ This limits, maybe even erases, true communication between man and his fellow, even with his own family. The Jewish Sabbath, during which the use of electronic devices is outlawed, breaks down the wall of silence and supports building bonds between spouses and family members.

Hearing the song reminded me of our discussion of a few weeks ago on Narnian Astronomy. In that post we characterized the music of the spheres as praises of God played by the Heavenly orbs as they follow His laws of physics. Even a prophet of the stature of Joshua cannot command the spheres to silence their music without singing God’s praises in their stead. Silencing the praise of God, is not permissible. The negative aspect of silence in Simon and Garfunkel's song builds a wall that will block the music of the spheres thus causing a lapse in the praise of God. This encouraged me to think more generally about the roles of silence and noise in the Chronicles of Narnia and other works of C.S. Lewis. That got me thinking about how Judaism portrays these phenomena. Below (and subsequent posts) is an attempt to piece together what that may look like.

Lewis’ most evocative statement on silence in the Chronicles of Narnia is found in The Voyage of the Dawn Treader. The most dangerous of the islands visited by the ship the Dawn Treader and her crew, is the Dark Island. The Dark Island, as they are soon to learn, is the island where dreams (not daydreams, dreams) come true. As the Dawn Treader attempts to row away and escape the island, we are told that, “Though the rowing made a good deal of noise it did not quite conceal the total silence which surrounded the ship.” The silence of the island and its surroundings is foreboding, even threatening. It is waiting to be filled, with each man’s dreams. Those dreams, the ones we wake up from sweating and scared, the ones that will not allow us to fall back asleep. The ones against which we use whatever distractions we can in hopes of drowning them out of our thoughts. Those dreams are lurking behind the silence, menacing at the passengers on the Dawn Treader. And, however hard the crew tries to concentrate on the rowing, the only noise at their disposal, it is insufficient to block out the silence.

Yet, in another part of the Chronicles, silence is imperative for religious contemplation and realization of truth. Edmund, for instance, in The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe, needed silence to internalize the truth of Aslan’s good and the Witch’s evil. After separating from his siblings and seeking solace in the house of the White Witch, Edmund is forced to ride with her in attempt to capture his siblings. It is during that ride that winter which has for so long gripped Narnia, miraculously and suddenly begins to transform into Spring. This causes a thaw, making it almost impossible for the reindeer to pull the sleigh. The Witch's dwarf, who is attempting to drive the reindeer in the melting snow, resorts to whipping and shouting, but eventually the sleigh is stuck fast. When that realization hits, for one moment there was silence. “In that silence Edmund could at last listen to the other noise properly.” Until that point Edmund hears and sees spring all around him but cannot internalize its true meaning. Only in the moment of silence can Edmund hear the truth.

This positive aspect of contemplative silence is also addressed by Lewis in the Screwtape Letters. Right at the beginning, in Letter 1, Screwtape, an important tempter of humans, tells of a "patient" of his who, while reading quietly in the British Museum, started rethinking his atheist beliefs. There, in the silence of the library Screwtape suddenly saw his hard work begin to topple. In the silence, the man was beginning to contemplate God, he was beginning to internalize the truth! A possible counter for Screwtape would have been to argue intellectually and philosophically against the existence of God. However, there was a much easier way - remove the silence! So, he suggested that it was time for lunch, leading the man back to “real life” and away from the silence. This convinced the patient that, “whatever odd ideas might come into a man’s head when he was shut up alone with his books, a healthy dose of ‘real life’ (by which he meant the bus and the newsboy) was enough to show him that all ‘that sort of thing’ just couldn’t be true.” In fact, ‘real life’ was the distraction, what is truly important can only be heard in silence.

Lewis returns to this theme even more explicitly in Letter 22. Wormwood’s patient has fallen in love with a Christian woman and her home and garden are Heavenly in that they are, “regions where there is only life and therefore all that is not music is silence.” Screwtape, of course, wants none of that! “Music and silence — how I detest them both! How thankful we should be that ever since our father entered hell... all has been occupied by noise…”

For Lewis then, silence operates on two planes, one negative, one positive. (1) Silence relaying absence, the passengers on the Dawn Treader hear silence and are dreading what is missing. (2) Silence as a means of hearing something else, Edmund only heard Spring when silence reigned. 

The litmus test of silence is the music of the spheres. Man should always hear the praise of God, the music of the spheres. Sometimes, however, the music can be drowned out by noise, the distractions of the trivialities of everyday life. Sometimes the music can be overcome by silence, when a wall is built separating man from God. Such a silence is terrifying. What fills the silence in place of the music of the spheres?