The Stone Knife

Lucy now noticed something lying lengthwise on the table which had escaped her attention before. It was a knife of stone, sharp as steel, a cruel-looking, ancient looking thing.

(The Voyage of the Dawn Treader)

Aslan's Table has not just food as a reward for those who have come so far, but also a knife of stone, not to touched, and later revealed to the very knife that the White Witch used to kill Aslan. It is found there to be kept in honor while the world lasts.

That the tool of Aslan's death should be honored by Narnia should not be surprising from the Christian perspective. After all the tool of Jesus' death, the cross of his crucifixion, is perhaps the most prominent of all Christian symbols. What is surprising is that it is brought to this island and not kept in honor in Narnia or elsewhere. It is so remote that we hear of this knife only when used by the White Witch and in the Voyage of the Dawn Treader. Why is it on Aslan's Table?

Perhaps there are a couple of possible approaches to this. The first is that the knife was placed there as a test. The heroic art of Navigation should be, like the study of the bible and the giving of charity, a means of cleansing the soul. A way of improving the character of those who engage in its depths. But what if it is not? What if the study of Navigation was performed simply for material gain, like on the island of Deathwater rather than as a means of exploring God's world and uplifting humanity? 

Then, upon reaching the island, one may take the knife and use it upon his fellows. How could one of noble character strike out his fellow shipmates and adventurers? Only if his quests were motivated by ignobility. That is what happened to the three lords, and as punishment they were cursed to navigate no more.

A second approach may be that the Knife is on Aslan's Table as a reminder. That sometimes, sacrifice will accompany or even be a requisite to ultimate victory. Aslan was about to achieve all he hoped for in Narnia. The White Witch was to be defeated. Human rulers were to ascend the throne of Narnia once more. The Winter had turned into Spring and Narnia was ready to fulfill the mission Aslan had set for it from the very beginning. But at that moment, with the final victory at hand, Aslan sacrificed himself. 

So too with our enterprising navigator. He has been victorious! He has reached the beginning of the end of the world, there is nothing beyond but calm seas and smooth sailing. Even here, at the home base, there is everything to meet one's physical desires. But at this moment of triumph, our navigator must remember the sacrifices that went into his quest. Perhaps it was the sacrifice of children left behind without a father, of a lover forced to say goodbye, or a community left without their leader. 

The presence of the Stone Knife commands: remember their sacrifice and your own and make the choice of where to go next. 

Aslan's Table and the Binding of Isaac

The binding of Isaac is one of the bible's most gripping and controversial stories. This is not the place for retelling or interpretation rather I would like to look at its aftermath. At the end of the story the verse (Genesis 22:19) tells us, "And Abraham returned to his servants, and they departed together for Beer-sheba..." causing the classical commentaries to ask, where is Isaac? A number of answers are provided by the midrash and classic commentaries but I would like to concentrate of three of them. 

Midrash Rabbah (Genesis 56:11) posits that he went to study Torah in the famed school Noah's son Shem and the latter's great-grandson Eber. The midrash explains that Abraham himself has studied under these revered teachers and now it was time for Isaac to follow in his path. 

Chizkuni quotes the Midrash HaGadol asserting that Isaac was hidden for three years in the Garden of Eden. 

There is another possibility, that Isaac did not go anywhere, he simply stayed on Mount Moriah. 

I believe these three approaches parallel the three lords who reach Aslan's Table. The first Lord peers at his fellows and says, we've achieved much. We have taken navigation to a new level, going further than anyone else ever has. We have improved our spiritual stature by spending time at Aslan's Table with Aslan's trusted guardians. Now it is time to go back to Narnia - to the 'real world' and continue the path of our Master and King Caspian IX. 

The second Lord claims the opposite. Forget Narnia and the physical world. We can go further and attempt to achieve spiritual perfection - let us continue to sail east towards the country (or garden) of Aslan and fulfill our spiritual desires.

The third Lord looks around the Table and says, "You know, we've been through a lot on this quest of ours. We've just achieved quite an accomplishment by reaching this island and I don't think I'm ready to come down from that spiritual high or go elsewhere. I can't think beyond." 

The Star's daughter does not tell us which would have been the preferred path of the lords.

But we do know that Isaac soon comes marries Rebecca - what happens in between is a discussion for another time. 

 

Those who come so far...

In our last post we raised several questions with respect to Aslan's Table. Specifically, we wondered why is sailing east a worthwhile endeavor that it should be rewarded? 

I think there are a number of ways to address this question:

1) In the physical world there are some places that are holier than others. This is true on numerous levels in numerous religions. In the Hebrew Bible there is the place that God will choose to establish His name (Deuteronomy 26:2) invoked in various forms which is later revealed as Jerusalem and the Temple Mount. The holiness there is of such an extreme that people contaminated with ritual impurity are not permitted to enter. However, even outside the Temple there are the "small sanctuaries" (see Ezekiel 11:16), our synagogues and houses of study. Anyone is welcome to these places all it takes is the ability to get there. 

Now one might argue that this is kind of unfair. After all what if you do not live very close to one of these places? (Of course, in Orthodox Judaism we expect people to choose to live in places where such institutions are already established, or you plan to establish them yourself.) Well, true, it is unfair, but there's not much you can do about it - try harder. 

I would assume something similar to Muslims who travel to Mecca or Christians who want to walk the Camino de Santiago. It's much harder to do if you live halfway around the world, too bad. And the same is true with Aslan's Table. It's out there and anyone can visit, even if no one originally knew that it was. It's a great opportunity because one can gain spiritually from visiting there. And if you can't sail? Well, that's just how it is. The physical world sets up an inherent lack of equality in this spiritual endeavor.  

In this approach the physical effort is not sanctified or special any more than the sacrifice to make the trip. God, the perfect Judge, will give greater reward to the one who had to strive and sacrifice more and perhaps even reward those who try and do not succeed. But the effort per se is no more valuable than a means to an end. 

2) Doctor Cornelious called Navigation, "a noble and heroical art." Excusing for the moment why that should be so (we will have to return to it), we can suggest that sailing to Aslan's Table requires one to study, learn, and gain expertise in this art, presumably transforming this person into one who is himself noble and heroical. True, Aslan's Table may be hidden far out in the Eastern Sea where it is really hard to fine. But that's part of the challenge: can you become sufficiently good at navigation, attain sufficient nobility that you will look for it. 

From this perspective the effort is itself spiritual and the one who succeeds is thus inherently worthy of reward.

We'll continue next time.   

Aslan's Table

"Why is it called Aslan's table?" asked Lucy presently.

"It is set here by his bidding," said the girl, "for those who come so far...."

(The Voyage of the Dawn Treader)

As told to us in The Voyage of the Dawn Treader, Aslan established a beautiful oasis on an island in the middle of the Easter Sea. On that island, attended to by a retired star, is a magnificent feast, unlike any found even amongst the wealthiest of kings. Furthermore, the feast is renewed every day such that, in theory, one can spend however much time they wanted there and never lack for food. 

Furthermore, the knife the White Witch used to kill Aslan is placed on the table with the feast. We are told that it was brought there to be kept in honor. 

The entire scene raises a number of questions. First, it appears that Alsan is presenting a reward for those who have managed to sail that far east. Is simply sailing east a worthwhile endeavor that it should be rewarded? Is the physical prowess and capability deserving of reward? This all seems based on physical strength not spiritual yearning or growth. Or is there some positive attitude or motivation that would lead someone to that island?

Second, what is the point of the feast. Is it a reward, as in good job, time to turn around? Is it a taste of what is to come and an encouragement to keep going? Or is it a place to stop and live out the rest of one's life there?

Third, what is the goal of having a star administer the island? Is that what stars usually do (actually, given Coriaken maybe yes). 

Finally, why is the Stone Knife brought there of all places. Why not keep it in Narnia where it can be revered and actively honored by many?

I realize we're in the middle of a bunch of things - hopefully we'll get back to all of them. But these are some of the questions I've been thinking of recently.  

Narnian Ba'alei Teshuva: Eustace (Part 4)

We’ve spent the past few posts discussing Eustace’s transformation from “an ass” to a hero of Narnia. The climax of this transformation is the undressing of his dragon shell by Aslan and his subsequent baptism in the mountain well. A priori, this scene is based on the verses in Ezekiel (11:19 and 36:26) in which God says he will remove the people’s hearts of stone and replace them with hearts of flesh. Only then will they be able to return to following in God’s ways. Similarly, Eustace the dragon cannot undress himself. Aslan must do it. Eustace recalls that Aslan first makes a tear, “so deep that I thought it had gone right into my heart,” and after his baptism Eustace transforms back into a boy.

There is, however, a reversal of chronology between Ezekiel and Eustace. In Ezekiel the people have sinned, they have not repented. God’s intervention enables the people to follow God’s ways and save His Name from desecration. The people themselves have no desire to repent, God must spur them to do so.

Perhaps surprisingly then, the actual parallel to God’s ‘heart transplant’ is not Eustace un-becoming a dragon, but Eustace becoming a dragon! As a dragon Eustace changes his ways. As a dragon Eustace perceives the wrong he has done. As a dragon Eustance follows the ways of a true repentant as outlined by Maimonides. Had Eustace been transformed back into a boy without meeting Aslan all evidence suggests he would have remained a penitent and, with the guidance of his cousins, Caspian, and Reepicheep, would have come to recognize Aslan. So, why have the meeting in the first place?

In our last post I suggested that perhaps this differentiated (Lewis’) Christianity and (my) Judaism. Lewis requires a repentant to have a direct encounter with God before full acceptance into the faith. I don’t believe Judaism has such a demand. Of course, one cannot be a religious Jew without recognizing God. However, the inspiration and path to becoming religious need not be a particularly direct revelation from God. Rather, the path may traverse tradition and history, or even nature and science.

Eustace's return was catalyzed by his transformation into a dragon. His subsequent path towards God was not due to direct revelation but by his understanding the good in helping others. He looked outwards from himself and eventually that would bring him back to God. Lewis provides Eustace with an (unnecessary in my mind) shortcut via revelation from Aslan. 

Narnian Ba'alei Teshuva: Eustace (Part 3)

Eustace’s transformation from a dragon back into a boy is, without question, a quintessential moment of spiritual cleansing modeled after the verse “And I will remove the heart of stone from your flesh and give you a heart of flesh” (Ezekiel 36:26). However, it is as a dragon that Eustace becomes a repentant. True, he has not yet apologized for his misdeeds (a necessary step in attaining forgiveness for sins between man and his fellow), but already as a dragon his character changes significantly. “It was, however, clear to everyone that Eustace's character had been rather improved by becoming a dragon. He was anxious to help.”

Actually, it is as a dragon that Eustace follows the way of a repentant. In our last post on Eustace, we quoted the ways of repentance outlined by Maimonides. Here they are in his words (translated to English):

Among the ways of repentance are, for the penitent to continue to cry out in tearful supplication before the Name, to bestow alms according to his means, and to distance himself exceedingly from the thing wherein he sinned, to have his identity changed, as if saying: "I am now another person, and not that person who perpetrated those misdeeds", to completely change his conduct for the good and straight path, and to exile himself from his place of residence, for exile atones iniquity, because it leads him to submissiveness and to be meek and humble-spirited.

Let’s see how Eustace follows (more or less) these ways:

1. “Cry out in tearful supplication” - Eustace cries when first meeting his comrades as a dragon
2. “To bestow alms according to his means” - Eustace brings back many goat and swine carcasses as provisions for the ship
3. “To distance himself exceedingly from the thing wherein he sinned” - Eustace was ashamed to be with others against whom he had sinned
4. “To have his identity changed” - Eustace was transformed into a dragon
5. “Change his conduct for the good and straight path” - Eustace's character had been rather improved by becoming a dragon
6. “Exile himself from his place of residence” - Eustace is exiled from England into the world of Narnia

And so, partly via a change of heart and partly due to events that were outside of his control, Eustace follows Maimonides’ ways of repentance.

This leaves us a bit of a quandary. While a dragon Eustace is already acting like a penitent. Were the spell such that the moment Eustace repented he would be immediately transformed back into a boy, he would have transformed and become a different, and better, boy. But that’s not what happens, first Eustace needs to meet Aslan. Why?

I wonder if it is here that Judaism and Christianity part ways. Given that all of what we do depends on God's help. Still, how much direct intervention from God is necessary? Was Aslan's direct intervention necessary to change Eustace's heart? It doesn't appear that way. Eustace could have been an evil dragon. He could have sought revenge against Edmund, Caspian, and Reepicheep. But he doesn't because he realizes the error of his ways.

He could get even with Caspian and Edmund now. But the moment he thought this he realized that he didn't want to. He wanted to be friends. He wanted to get back among humans and talk and laugh and share things. He realized that he was a monster cut off from the whole human race. An appalling loneliness came over him. He began to see that the others had not really been fiends at all. He began to wonder if he himself had been such a nice person as he had always supposed.

All of this is done without direct intervention by Aslan.

In fact, in Ezekiel, God's intervention allows for a change of heart.  Aslan's direct intervention comes after Eustace's change of heart. 

We'll explore this further in our next post. 

Narnian Ba'alei Teshuva: Eustace (Part 2)

The conversion of Eustace comes on Dragon Island. It is there that Eusatce is transformed into a dragon and then de-dragonned by Aslan himself. However, we have a glimpse of an improved Eustace even before this fateful encounter.

The Dawn Treader lands on Dragon Island on the heels of almost two weeks of violent storms. The storms have left the Dawn Treader a “crippled discolored hulk” and already immediately upon landing a huge amount of work needed to be done. Eustace, of course, is not interested in participating and decides to sneak off to a place in the mountains to rest. The climb was not an easy one but he plugged away.

It is here that Lewis makes the following remark:

This showed, by the way, that his new life, little as he suspected it, had already done him some good; the old Eustace, Harold and Alberta's Eustace, would have given up the climb after about ten minutes.

In other words, Eustace’s process towards conversion had already begun. How? What was it that made him no longer the “old Eustace”?

Maimonides (Teshuva 2:4) (based on the Talmud) outlines the paths towards repentance. The last is that the repentant is exiled from his place. Maimonides explains that exile causes someone to be humble and low of spirit. Eustace was certainly exiled from his home to a land he could have even imagined. However, it does not appear he has been very humbled. In fact, his pride shows through even after the end of the storm when attempts to steal water.

Still, Eustace does undergo some humiliating experiences. He is publicly chastised by Caspian for stealing water, and is demonstrably not trusted by Caspian and the crew of the Dawn Treader. His hand is skewered by Reepicheep. He is offered as a slave and no one wants him (a scenario described as the final curse in the rebuke section of Deutoronomy 28:68). Perhaps these experiences left him with more humility and hence more resilience in the face of the obstacles.

Furthermore, Eustace has, if even by osmosis, been experiencing “the right kind of books.” He has heard stories of adventure and courage, of bravery and honor. Perhaps some of this has seeped into his unconscious. Or, perhaps it is simply the hardships he has suffered (and he has certainly suffered) that just gave him greater strength to overcome adversity.

In Screwtape Proposes a Toast, Screwtape (a senior demon) asserts, “The great (and tooth-some) sinners are made out of the very same material as those horrible phenomena, the great Saints.” In Eustace, the first step towards repentance is not, cannot be to make him a saint. The first step is to grow the material. True, the material can be used for sin (would the old Eustace have been brave enough to steal water in the first place?). But that material can be transformed for good. And the suffering, embarrassment, and environment experienced on the Dawn Treader moves begins this growth.

Narnian Ba'alei Teshuva: Eustace (Part 1)

There was a boy called Eustace Clarence Scrubb, and he almost deserved it

The second great penitent of the Narnian Chronicles is Eustace Clarence Scrubb. We are introduced to Eustace, the cousin of the four Pevensie children, at the very beginning of The Voyage of the Dawn Treader:

There was a boy called Eustace Clarence Scrubb, and he almost deserved it… He didn't call his Father and Mother "Father" and "Mother", but Harold and Alberta. They were very up-to-date and advanced people. They were vegetarians, non-smokers and teetotallers and wore a special kind of underclothes.

Lewis’ disgust with Eustace and the environment in which he was raised is immediately obvious.

Continuing further in the first chapter we find that Eustace never read the right kind of books (he read books with information, not of adventure and fantasy), that deep-down he liked bullying people, and had little imagination. In The Silver Chair we learn that he would constantly curry favor and dance attendance for the school bullies.

Eustace’s behavior on the Dawn Treader reflects his upbringing and personality. He views himself as far superior to others, he is impossible to satisfy, and he is quick to point out what’s wrong in any situation but refuses any attempt to solve anything. Borrowing from our previous definitions, we would say he is the very opposite of valiant.

Despite these very negative characteristics it would be a stretch to say Eustace is evil. He is stuck-up, immature, a whiner (kvetch), and a spoiled brat, but not evil. In fact, in his own eyes he’s a pretty good guy. This point is underscored by contrasting Eustace with Edmund. In fact, it is Edmund himself who makes the contrast: “Between ourselves, you haven't been as bad as I was on my first trip to Narnia. You were only an ass, but I was a traitor.”

One might think being an ass rather than a traitor would make penitence easier for Eustace than it was for Edmund. Via Screwtape, Lewis tells us this is not so, “The great (and tooth- some) sinners are made out of the very same material as those horrible phenomena, the great Saints.” To turn from sinner to saint one needs a change of direction. But how does one create a saint from a soul that is small and flabby (paraphrasing Screwtape)? From those whose minds are so muddled they do not understand the source of character of the prohibitions they are breaking? And indeed, at the beginning of the Voyage of the Dawn Treader, Eustace considers himself a good person who tries to help others by showing them the facts.

How does one resurrect such a soul?

Reepicheep the Zealot

In our last post we demonstrated the parallels between Reepicheep’s entry into Aslan’s country, as portrayed in The Voyage of the Dawn Treader, with the ascendance of Elijah the prophet in a whirlwind to Heaven. However, this final parallel serves only to emphasize that Lewis modeled Reepicheep (at least partly) after the great prophet. Along with valiance, it is Reepicheep’s similarity to Elijah that provides insight into his character and actions throughout the Chronicles of Narnia.

What trait characterizes Elijah? Elijah himself answers that question when he asserts (Kings 1 19:10), “I have acted zealously for the Lord.” Elijah the Zealot is unafraid of taking on the 200 prophets of Ba’al on Mount Carmel. Elijah the Zealot doesn’t blink when threatened with arrest and imprisonment (or worse) by a phalanx of 50 soldiers, and it is Elijah the Zealot who can be, as it were, more zealous than God, appropriating for himself the power to withhold rain from the Kingdom of Israel (Kings 1 17:1).

Is Reepicheep a zealot? Merriam-Webster defines ‘zealous’ as, “fervent partisanship for a person, a cause, or an ideal,” and a ‘zealot’ as a “zealous person, especially a fanatical partisan.” While no form of the word zeal appears anywhere in the Chronicles, the description seems appropriate for Reepicheep. Reepicheep is a fanatical partisan for Narnia, the country of Aslan. Our first glimpses already demonstrate this zeal loyalty to his king and his people. He is immediately at Caspian’s disposal, and, by suggesting storming Miraz’s castle as soon as possible, demonstrates his zeal of reviving Old Narnia. At the Battle of Beruna he and his mice storm into the heart of the battle. Reepicheep’s need to crush pirates, defeat dragons, battle unknown mermen, experience adventure, and achieve glory come not only from bravery or even valiance. Rather, because is a Narnian zealot.

How dare Terebinthian pirates attack the ship of the King of Narnia, such is a blasphemous act! A merman offers a challenge, how could the representative of Aslan turn away, it would suggest Aslan is weak! A taunt of a Telmarine dares to question Aslan’s assertion, Reepicheep will march his mice into another world to stand for the truth. Turn away from a Dark Island? Not explore all that could be explored? That would brand Narnia, and Aslan, as fearful and scared.

Zealots however, sometimes receive undue criticism for lack of mercy and an inability to connect with the common man. Perhaps there is truth to that, but both Elijah and Reepicheep show mercy and understanding to those in need. 

More in our next post.

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. 

Post-Holiday Post

A little flat and dreary after all they had been through, but also, unexpectedly, nice in its own way…

The end of the “Jewish Holiday Season” is always one of mixed emotions. One the one hand, we are ready to get back to normal. But, on the other hand, saddened that we have another whole year before the time returns. I feel, perhaps, a bit like the Pevensie children do upon their second return from Narnia as described above. Let me try to elaborate.

Our anticipation for the coming Days of Awe begins in the Jewish month of Elul, a full month before the Jewish New Year. At that time the shofar begins to be sounded daily, awakening us to the upcoming Day of Judgement, Rosh HaShana. Rosh HaShana itself is a day of dread, but also of joy. We rejoice that we have the merit to crown God as our King, yet dread His judgement we then accept upon ourselves. The blowing of the shofar on Rosh HaShana encompasses both themes. It is our trumpet signifying the coronation of God, and the final wake up call to be judged.

The following days, from Rosh HaShana to Yom Kippur, the Day of Atonement, are those during which God is close and is found as in the verse (Isaiah 55:6), "Seek God while He can be found, call to Him while He is near." These days are a time when repentance and prayer will more likely be accepted.

Yom Kippur is then the climax of this journey. We attempt to divorce ourselves from all that is material, eating, drinking and the like, to concentrate on our spiritual well-being, assured that God is with us and will look favorably upon us.

The shofar blast at the end of Yom Kippur is our way of saluting God as He ascends back to the Heavens. His presence is no longer near, we return to normal human existence, and the evening service after His departure is, for me, the saddest of the year. 

But, the holidays are not over. Agriculturally, we have now entered the harvest season and to counterbalance the possible arrogance that may arise when we see our bountiful harvest, we spend the holiday of Sukkot outside of our houses, in temporary shelters. However, these shelters also represent the Clouds of Glory that surrounded the Jews in their wanderings in the wilderness between Egypt and the Promised Land. They are a conduit to Heaven reminding us that, though He may have returned to His Heavenly abode, we can leave the confines of our routine existence and follow Him there. 

Then the holidays are really over. Winter is fast approaching. Kids return to school and adults to work. All of the tasks we’ve been pushing off until “after the Holidays” now need our attention. Perhaps we refocus away for the great spiritual heights we hoped to reach under the influence of the holidays. Instead we turn to the dull, mundane tasks of everyday life. 

Yet, the “normal” world is nice in its own way. There are positive goals to accomplish, and constructive aims to fulfill. There are people to help and an imperfect world to improve. Hopefully, we have been influenced by our holiday experiences to transform even mundane tasks into spiritual opportunities. And though His presence is no longer on Earth, perhaps what we have learned will allow us to see Him more clearly in our normal (hopefully spiritually improved) routine. 

The Pevensies, Aslan explains at the end of Voyage of the Dawn Treader, were brought to Narnia to know Aslan better in their own world:  “This was the very reason why you were brought to Narnia, that by knowing me here for a little, you may know me better there." And so too with us. Every year God allows us to get a glimpse of His glory, in hopes that we will use that experience to know Him better even as we enter the cold and darkness of winter. 

     

Valiance (Part 1)

The Whole Wide World Is a Very Narrow Bridge, and The Important Thing Is to Not Be Afraid

A quick interlude to our search for a Jewish Narnia, motivated by a discussion I had with my kids… 

There are three characters in the Chronicles of Narnia described by Lewis as valiant: Queen Lucy the Valiant, Trumpkin the Dwarf, and Reepicheep, the most valiant of all the Talking Beasts of Narnia. The theme of valiance, as manifested by Reepicheep, plays an especially prevalent role in The Voyage of the Dawn Treader.  That book was described by Lewis (in a letter to a fan quoted in Prof. Ward’s “Planet Narnia”) as “presenting the spiritual life (especially in Reepicheep).” Why is valiance so important to the spiritual life? Why does R’ Nachman of Breslov (in the above maxim) call not being afraid an ikkar, something centrally important? We will try to answer this question by understanding Reepicheep. 

There are a few useful things to know about Reepicheep: 

First, Reepicheep is bad at chess. Of course, lots of people are bad at chess, but Reepicheep is bad at chess because he sees himself in the pieces he controls. If Reepicheep was a piece, he would certainly put himself into a dangerous battle position irrespective of the likely consequences.  

Second, Caspian warns Reepicheep not to challenge a dragon single-handedly. Caspian does not see fit to warn anyone else. 

Third, Reepicheep has no problem landing on an island that is pitch-black in the middle of the day. No one else thought this was a very good idea. 

Fourth, Reepicheep jumped into the sea to fight seemingly dangerous mermen even though there was no sign of danger and no other obvious reason to do so, except that a challenge was given.   

The above clearly shows that Reepicheep is valiant. But does one really have to be so valiant? Maybe sometimes one should try to avoid danger, rather than jumping in headfirst? Maybe a bit of caution? 

There are a few stages in our quest (if we’re following Reepicheep it should be a quest) to understand the value of valiance in the spiritual persona. We will try to explore them over a few posts. 

Let us start with the concept of fear, the actual subject of R’ Nachman’s verse (now turned song). True fear, not fear that you might miss your bus, but existential fear must be reserved for God alone. Anything else borders on blasphemy (though God has commanded fear of, for example, one’s parents, this is likely because they reflect God). Certainly, one cannot fear a physical enemy knowing that God can sweep them away in a moment! 

Besides the theological pitfalls of fear, lack of fear enables freedom of action. Reepicheep is described as one who lacks fear, “... no one had ever known Reepicheep to be afraid of anything.” He, therefore, can properly judge whether Lucy should face the magician. Others have to be concerned that perhaps they are motivated, or demotivated, by fear thus coloring their judgement. Reepicheep, “could say this (that Lucy should face the magician) without feeling at all awkward.” Thus, it is Lucy’s valiance, combined with Reepicheep’s, that propels Lucy forward. 

However, lack of fear cannot explain the actions of Reepicheep. Lack of fear will allow one to explore the Dark Island, but alone it will not demand the island be explored. Reepicheep must be motivated by a positive force from which his valiance arises. We will explore this force in later posts. 

A Pagan Narnia?

Having acknowledged the motivation for having a Jewish Narnia we must address the question of how to write one. Perhaps the best way to do this is to determine how C.S. Lewis wrote the Chronicles of Narnia. If his method is particularly Christian, our work becomes more difficult. If, however, the method is religiously agnostic, perhaps the path ahead is already partially paved. 

Critics have long pointed to the lack of an overarching framework of the seven books of the Chronicles of Narnia. While three of the books are clearly Christological: The Lion the Witch and the Wardrobe where Aslan is resurrected, The Magician’s Nephew where Aslan is the Creator, and The Last Battle where we have the antichrist and apocalypse, the other four are not. As if that was not sufficiently strange, the stories introduce a hodge-podge of mythological characters, with Bacchus and Silenus on the same pages as a modern-day depiction of Santa Claus complete with reindeer and presents. J.R.R. Tolkien was especially dismissive saying that the series was carelessly and superficially written. Others simply stated that the works were written by an author who was a novice, especially in children’s literature. Even Lewis’ supporters were left struggling to understand these seeming inconsistencies.    

The search for a unifying theme encompassing the seven books of the Chronicles of Narnia (and the criticism of its lack of such a theme) underwent a monumental shift with Prof. Michael Ward’s publication of “Planet Narnia.” Ward’s thesis addressed all of these charges and more, satisfactorily answering: (1) why the Chronicles were written, (2) why they are not uniformly allegorical, and (3) why they are so popular. No summary of “Planet Narnia” can do justice to Ward’s majestic work and I strongly urge everyone to read it. Nevertheless, I will attempt to concisely highlight the main aspects of the work that will help us achieve our goal: creating a Jewish Narnia.

Ward posits that each of the seven books in the Chronicles of Narnia is a manifestation of one of the seven wandering planets in the Ptolemaic model of the solar system. The Ptolmeic model sees Earth at the center of the universe surrounded by increasingly larger concentric spheres or heavens. Each sphere is home to one of the seven wandering stars. In order of closest to furthest they are the moon (Luna), Mercury, Venus, the sun (Sol), Mars, Jupiter, and Saturn. Outside of the sphere of Saturn is the heaven of the fixed stars and beyond that the Primum Mobile, the sphere that conveys movement to the other spheres. God is the Unmoved Mover, who moves the Primum Mobile but Himself is not moved. While Lewis was fully aware that this model is not scientifically accurate, he believed that the planets in this model had permanent value as spiritual symbols.

Ward then details how each of the Chronicles of Narnia is permeated with symbolism representative of that planet. Not the astronomical body that we associate planets with today, but the pagan God of Roman mythology. Thus, in the Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe, which manifests Jupiter, we read of Aslan as king of the beasts, Peter as the High King, and that “once a King in Narnia, always a King in Narnia.”  In the Magician’s Nephew, a manifestation of Mercury, we read of the need for swiftness of Shasta and Rabadash, and that the lion (Aslan) was swift of foot. And The Voyage of the Dawn Treader, manifesting Sol, is a tale of sailing to the utter east where the ocean becomes liquid light. 

However, it is not just thematically that the books reflect the chief characteristics of Roman deities. Hints, references, and oblique innuendos of the appropriate god’s characteristics permeate each of the books. Thus, if in the militaristic Mars-manifesting chronicle Prince Caspian we see an emphasis on trees and forests it is due to Cato the Elder’s usage of Mars Silvanus (from which we get the English word sylvan). If we find twins in the Mercurial The Horse and His Boy, it is because Mercury as king of the Gemini is exerting his influence. And if we find moonlit nights and silver chairs in The Silver Chair it must be that Luna is riding her silver chariot across the skies of Narnia.  

In each book Lewis attempted to create an atmosphere or environment of the particular planet/god. In this, his goal is not to identify the particular planet, but to have us live the planet. When we read The Lion the Witch, and the Wardrobe we should live and be Jovial, and when we read Prince Caspian we should live and be Martial.

Why did Lewis not reveal this superstructure of the Chronicles of Narnia?

Lewis did not tell us what he was trying to create because then we would study how successful he was in his creation. Instead, he wanted us to become permeated with the atmosphere of the book and look all around us from the point of view of the atmosphere he created. Reformulating, Lewis wanted us to look ‘along the beam’ and not at the beam. When we look along the beam, we do not pay attention to the beam itself but to what it enlightens.

In The Voyage of the Dawn Treader Lucy looked along the beam and saw God. Lewis wants us to look along the beam and see God from the perspective of each of the seven planets. We will expand on this in our next post.

Narnian Enemies: Calormen

The introduction of Calormenes into the Chronicles of Narnia is found in The Voyage of the Dawn Treader. While on the Lone Islands Edmund, Lucy, Reepicheep and Eustace were captured and put on the slave market. After some adventure, King Caspian, supported by the Lord Bern, a former friend of Caspian’s father, mounts a rescue. The slave market is closed for good and the slaves are set free. At that point two Calormene merchants approach our heroes. Lewis describes the encounter as follows:

The Calormen have dark faces and long beards. They wear flowing robes and orange-coloured turbans, and they are a wise, wealthy, courteous, cruel and ancient people. They bowed most politely to Caspian and paid him long compliments, all about the fountains of prosperity irrigating the gardens of prudence and virtue - and things like that - but of course what they wanted was the money they had paid.

These sentences paint a picture of Calormen as somewhere out of the Arabian Nights. Calormenes wear the clothes of the Middle East (and also carry scimitars rather than straight swords). They are courteous and speak with great eloquence but are really seeking something base and mundane. The fact that the Calormen currency is the crescent, cements the connection between it and the Ottoman Empire.

Yet, Lewis builds into Calormen society certain ideas which are patently at odds with a model of an Islamic Empire. First, the religion of Calormen is certainly not Islam. The chief deity of the Calormenes (though not the only one) is Tash who has four arms and the head of a vulture. The Calormenes worship idols of Tash and are said to practice human sacrifice. Tash is also regarded as the ancestor of the line of the Tisrocs (the empires of Calormen). All of which is totally at odds with Islam, a monotheistic religion which rejects idols and images of God. Why? If Lewis was seeking an Islamic enemy to Narnia, make the country fully Muslim!

I humbly suggest that the Muslim-like characteristics of Narnia's enemy is effectively a red-herring. Lewis endows Calormenes with some physical and cultural features of Muslims from the Middle Ages simply to recreate a Crusader-type defense of the Holy Land atmosphere in the Chronicles. However, the true conflict between Narnia and Calormen is not religion.

The major difference between Narnian society and Calormen society is the relationship between the common-folk and the great Lords, be they human or spiritual. In Calormen the populous is worthless in the eyes of the great leaders. Laws in Calormen are created by and for the elite. No man is allowed to stand in the presence of the Tisroc (who must be blessed upon mention of his name), and the traffic regulations in the capital city of Tashbaan are described as, “There is only one traffic regulation, which is that everyone who is less important has to get out of the way for everyone who is more important; unless you want a cut from a whip or punch from the butt end of a spear.” In Narnia, and its ally Archenland, however, “The king's under the law, for it's the law makes him a king.”

The same is true with the relationship towards the Gods. Tash seeks to conquer. He demands human sacrifice, he stretches his arms to “snatch all Narnia.” Borrowing from the description of the devil in the Screwtape Letters, Tash seeks to “draw all other beings into himself.” Aslan, of course, is the very opposite. Tash seeks human sacrifice, Aslan sacrifices himself for a human (Edmund). Tash seeks to swallow up Narnia, Aslan sends the Calormene crown-prince home to Calormen to be transformed back into a man in the Temple of Tash. Upon seeing Tash, Rishda Tarkaan falls face down to the ground. Upon seeing Aslan, Lucy’s face lights up and she runs towards him with joy.

This is the actual battle between Carlomen and Narnia. What is the purpose of the masses? To be servants whose will and very being are consumed by the elite, or to be sons who can receive blessings from He who seeks to give?

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

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?

Narnian Astronomy: What a Star Is

“In our world,” said Eustace, “a star is a huge ball of flaming gas.”

“Even in your world, my son, that is not what a star is but only what it is made of…”

(The Voyage of the Dawn Treader)

In the tenth chapter of the book of Joshua we read of the war between Israel and the five Emorite kings who inhabited the southern part of the land of Canaan. God supports Israel and they achieve a great military victory. In order to provide Israel time to chase and destroy the retreating Emorites, Joshua commands, “Sun in Givon be silent (stop), and Moon in the Valley of Ayalon!” By halting the sun and moon in their usual track across the Heavens, Joshua provides light for the Jewish army to hunt down the fleeing Emorites.

Our Sages in the midrash comment on the utilization of the word “silent” to mean stop moving across the sky. The midrash states:

Joshua wanted to silence the sun. He did not say to sit, “Sun in Givon stand still,” rather, “Sun in Givon be silent!” Why did [Joshua] say, “Be silent!”? At all times when the sun moves, it praises God,” and the whole time it praises, it has the power to move. Therefore, Joshua told [the sun] to be silent… The Sun said to Joshua, “You are decreeing upon me that I should be silent?” He said to it, “Yes.” The Sun replied, “And who will sing the praises of God?” Joshua said, “You be silent and I will sing the praises of God.” 

In midrashic lore, the sun, as it follows the laws of physics, sings the praises of God, what we might call the music of the spheres. Were it to abstain from following those laws, the music would stop. Therefore, Joshua can only order this miracle if he himself takes the responsibility to sing the praises of God in the sun’s place. The midrash, then, sees in the luminous bodies, not just as man’s timepieces, but creations that sing as they serve God by following His laws.

Returning then to our original question, “What is a star?” the answer would be servants of God that sing His praises as they follow His laws.

Elsewhere, the Psalmist advances another view of the luminous bodies:

My soul blesses the Lord; the Lord, my God, You are very great. You are clothed in Splendor and Majesty. You robe Yourself in light, you spread the heavens like a tent. (Psalms 104:1-2)

There are two seemingly opposing views in the classical commentaries as to the explanation of this verse. R’ David Kimchi explains that the spheres created by God serve to clothe Him, and from their glory one glimpses the glory of the Creator. R’ Abraham ibn Ezra disagrees. He makes the following analogy: just like clothes serve to cover a person from the view of others, so to the splendor of the Heavens serve to cover God from view. Rather than demonstrating the greatness of the Creator, the spheres actually hide it. Which position is correct?

I think it is clear that it depends on who is looking. There are those who look towards Heaven and do not see God. Instead they see the sun, the moon and the stars following the laws of physics. No doubt there is glory in the grand scale of space and people are entranced with the beauty of the heavens. But to such people, this glory serves to hide God. Others look to the Heavens and see the sun, moon, and stars dancing through the Heavens to the music of the spheres. They also see that these Heavenly bodies follow the laws of physics and are awed by their intricacy. But to such people the splendor created by these laws are a song, and the song is in praise of God. 

Narnian Astronomy: The Purpose of the Stars

“In our world,” said Eustace, “a star is a huge ball of flaming gas.”

“Even in your world, my son, that is not what a star is but only what it is made of…”

(The Voyage of the Dawn Treader)

Humanity’s relationship to the stars has evolved significantly over the millenium. Certainly, the scientific approach of the past few centuries has offered us great insight into what a star “is made of” based on mechanics, electromagnetism, astronomy, cosmology, nuclear and particle physics. Nonetheless, the pre-scientific perspective of our ancestors may provide more insight into what a star is, rather than what it is made of.

Maimonides asserts that the awe felt by early man when looking at the Heavens, led them to idol worship. At the time of Enosh (Adam’s grandson) humanity reasoned as follows. God created the stars to guide our world, and honored them by placing them in the heavens to serve Him. Therefore, we too should praise and honor the stars. After all, were a king to appoint an officer, it would be the king’s will that the people honor the officer. So too, since God appointed the stars as his officer’s, we who honor God should honor the stars. As time went by, however, false prophets arose telling people that God had commanded them to bring sacrifices and perform service to the various stars. As the service to the stars became even more ingrained, false prophets arose saying that a particular star had come to him and is requiring from man a specific type of worship. This continued until eventually the true God was completely forgotten.

The concept introduced at the time of Enosh, that the stars who serve God should themselves be honored, led to a slippery slope that, at its nadir, resulted in total ignorance of the true God. Yet, without question, God did create the stars, sun, and planets. Was this done directly to serve Him or are these heavenly bodies created to serve man?

The creation story in the first chapter of Genesis records the creation of the sun, moon, and stars on the fourth day. The rationale given for the creation of the sun and the moon is, (Genesis 1:14-15) “To separate the day from the night; and they should be as signs for set times, and for days and years. And they should be sources of light in the sky to shine upon the earth.” From this description it would seem that the sun and moon were created as timepieces and luminaries to serve (as of yet created) man. Upon actual creation the verse also notes that these luminous bodies (and the stars) dominate or rule over the day and the night. There is no hint that they were created to serve God.

The Psalmist, however, explicitly calls to the sun, moon and stars (as well as the rest of creation) to sing in praise of God. 

Praise Him all of His angels; Praise Him all of His Host
Praise Him sun and moon; Praise Him all stars of light
Praise Him highest of heavens, and the water that is above the heavens (Psalms 148:2-4)

From the Psalm it certainly appears that the stars and other Heavenly bodies do sing praises to God. Perhaps there is a way we can synthesize these two approaches...

Narnian Astronomy: What Stars are Made Of

“In our world,” said Eustace, “a star is a huge ball of flaming gas.”

“Even in your world, my son, that is not what a star is but only what it is made of…”

(The Voyage of the Dawn Treader)

Throughout the Chronicles we learn much about the Narnian stars. The stars of Narnia were grouped into constellations such as the Leopard and the Ship. They sing the music of the spheres which, at the dawn of creation, was audible to man and beast. The dance of the Stars as they traverse the upper sky also indicates coming events, and their message could be divined by centaurs and other creatures wise in astrology. Perhaps most importantly we learn that Narnian stars are sentient beings who can take on human form.

In “The Voyage of the Dawn Treader” the crew and passengers on the Dawn Treader meet two stars in their human form. Due to what he perceives as a sharp contrast between our world and the Narnian one, Eustace demonstrates particular surprise upon realizing that what he perceived as a human was actually a star. “In our world,” said Eustace, “a star is a huge ball of flaming gas.” Stars in our world are not alive, they do not think, and they do not sing to their Creator as the star Ramandu (now in human form) certainly does.

However, Ramandu, speaking for Lewis, disagrees. “Even in your world, my son, that is not what a star is but only what it is made of…” A star is made of flaming gas, but that does not speak to its essence. This assertion raises the obvious question: if, in Lewis’ view, a star is only composed of flaming gas but that does not actually define its nature, what is a star?

We will return to this question in the next post.