Passover Break

Apologies for my lack of recent posts which has been due to the need to concentrate of Passover preparations. Now that Passover has a arrived I hope to return to regular posting soon. 

In the meantime please check out the following older post which speak to the singular nature of Passover which allows it to be pre-commemorated by Abraham. By attesting to this pre-commemoration, our Sages affirm that God has a plan. for history. Though man has free will, God's ultimate plan is, to at least some extent, pre-programmed and neither Pharaoh nor any other world power can alter what He has decreed. 

As emphasized in the Haggadah (and expanded on here with respect to the enemies of Narnia), in every generation the enemies of morality, goodness, and mercy try to destroy the Jewish people and, indeed, all that is modest and wholesome. God will always foil such plans and the destruction they cause is in fact their own, just as He had planned. 

Wishing everyone a Happy Passover! 

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. 

Retaining Childhood

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Valiance (Part 2)

Valiance is a character trait that appears to be highly regarded by Lewis in the Chronicles of Narnia especially in the person of Reepicheep the Mouse. What is the definition of valiance and why is it important to the religious persona? Quite a while ago, we started to explore this question. Then, we noted that, minimally, one who is valiant is not scared. However, that alone is insufficient to define the term, or to explain the actions of Reepicheep, the most valiant of all beasts in Narnia. 

In this post we seek to further understand valiance by concentrating on another character conferred the title of valiant, Queen Lucy. The passage calling out Lucy’s valiance is from The Lion the Witch and the Wardrobe:

But as for Lucy, she was always gay and golden-haired, and all princes in those parts desired her to be their Queen, and her own people called her Queen Lucy the Valiant.

Lucy’s valiance is manifest in that she is “always gay” and was the desire of many princes. This description of Lucy should be immediately contrasted with that of Susan. Susan is described as being, “a tall and gracious woman with black hair that fell almost to her feet and the kings of the countries beyond the sea began to send ambassadors asking for her hand in marriage.” Susan is gracious, while Lucy is gay. Susan is wanted by kings, and Lucy by princes. Why would kings want Susan and princes want Lucy? 

Lewis contrasts the roles of King and prince in the Horse and His Boy. In that story, Corin, surprisingly, rejoices at the appearance of his elder brother Cor exclaiming, “It’s princes that have all the fun.” King Lune agrees, explaining, “For this is what it means to be a king: to be first in every desperate attack and last in every desperate retreat…”

So, princes, who are out having fun and adventures would naturally want the happy and joyful Lucy. While kings, who have more serious jobs to do, would certainly rather be matched with the gracious Susan. Frankly, this comparison doesn’t look too good for Lucy. It’s almost like she’s not capable of being serious.

I think, however, Lewis has something else in mind. Lewis starts the description of the four children many years after the Great War with, “And they themselves grew and changed as the years passed over them.” Continuing with “And Peter…,” and again with “And Susan…” Then finishing with “But as for Lucy…” Why is Lucy “but” while the others are “and”? 

We are forced to say that while the other children grew and changed, Lucy did not. She remained gay and golden haired, she retained childhood. 

However, for Lewis, retaining childhood is not a negative. 

Quite the opposite, it’s valiant! 

More in my next post. 

The Role of Story (Part 2)

In my last post I conceded to Michael’s point that my attempt to formulate a Jewish Narnia in which each book is permeated with a theme of one of the Sefirot (God’s character traits as perceived by man) could not encompass the entire essence of Judaism. Nonetheless, I believe there would be great value in such a series for the reasons I will outline in this post. 

First, let me expand on the minimalist answer I suggested in reply to Michael’s comment. Jews have a tendency to try to demonstrate the truth, beauty, and, dare I, superiority of their religion and culture. As a minority living in exile this need for self-validation is certainly understandable as it is constantly necessary to identify sources of pride and arguments against assimilation. Thus, while a Jew may not dispute the intellectual greatness of Greek philosophy, the argument was made that they learned it from Jeremiah. Similarly, the beauty of Arabic poetry in Muslim Spain was a source of motivation for Jewish poets to demonstrate the beauty of the Hebrew language. 

Along these lines, we have seen in the United States Jewish religion-based versions of everything from self-help books to children’s stories. Part of the rationale for the existence of these versions is so that Jews will not be influenced by what may be perceived as the pernicious thoughts and attitudes of the non-Jewish works. Yet, some motivation is also to demonstrate that self-help, children’s entertainment and instruction and everything else must be found in Judaism. This approach is supported by the statement of Ben Bag-Bag in Ethics of Our Fathers (5:22), “Turn it (the Torah) over, and [again] turn it over, for all is therein.”

If we are to adopt this attitude, how much more so should it be applicable to a popular and deeply religious work like the Chronicles of Narnia? If Christianity can produce such a work so should Judaism.

Second, a Chronicles along the lines I suggested (if done properly) would impress upon its readers God’s multifaceted interactions with man. Though one can be a good Jew without ever having heard of the Sefirot, it is much more difficult to claim the mantle of a religious Jew without ever having considered man’s relationship with God. Our most basic liturgy speaks of God as our Father, our Master, and our King. Judaism’s most fundamental stories such as the Exodus, the Flood, and Abraham’s trials uphold God as man’s Savior, Judge, and Guide. A Jewish Narnia attempts to organize and present the basic elements of this relationship. Thus, while perhaps not capturing the entire essence of Judaism it certainly would capture an essence of Judaism. 

Finally, and perhaps this is the most appropriate response, there is a fundamental difference between Christianity and Judaism. Christianity strives to be a universal religion, Judaism does not. However, Judaism does have a universal message, one which is minimal in terms of law (restricted to the Noahide laws) but maximal in its scope: all of Creation should join together to follow His will. 

The goal of a Jewish Narnia would be to impart the universal message of Judaism and to demonstrate that universal morals and ethics come from Judaism. Jewish rituals of the kind I mentioned in the last post are not relevant for a Jewish Narnia attempting to provide a universal message. Therefore, in a sense Michael’s question is off-base (though likely due to my implications that a Jewish Narnia would be Jewish in all ways), so let me rephrase. How does one encompass and relate the universal part of Judaism? The part that is applicable to the entire world?

Stories, I believe, is now a pretty good answer, and has been shown to be so in the United States. It was the Jews wandering in the desert towards the promised land that inspired the Puritans and others. It was the eventual freedom of the Jewish slaves that gave hope to African slaves. The Maccabees, David, and Esther (see here, for example) continue to demonstrate to Americans that, in the battle of good versus evil, good can triumph even against all odds. 

So, I’m going to end this part here. I haven’t yet related to all of Michael’s comment but hopefully this is a start to help others (but mainly myself) think through these elements of religion and how to transmit them to others. 

The Role of Story (Part 1)

This post is an attempt to wrestle with parts of Michael’s comment on my summary of a Jewish Narnia. Please read the comment beforehand to put this post into its proper context. 

Michael makes a number of excellent points in his comment about my attempts to outline a framework for a Jewish Narnia. I’ll start with some in this post. 

Michael correctly points out that a good deal of the appeal of Narnia is the story, qua story, and I fail to address the importance of the story. To this I plead guilty. I do not suggest a recipe for writing a compelling story, only theological atmospheres, themes or setting. 

More fundamentally, Michael asserts that story, per se, is able to both manifest and encompass Christianity in a way that it cannot with respect to Judaism. I think this raises an interesting question, how important are stories and living life as story in Judaism? Certainly Judaism concentrates strongly on law and, Michael notes, law and interpretation tend to unravel or arrest story. Further, I would suggest, when we raise our children we teach them to follow halakha, Jewish law, and attempt to inspire them with story. I (as least) do not formulate my attempts at transmitting Judaism to my children as living the Jewish story. 

In fact, we emphasize the importance of law over that of story. Saul (and others) attempted to circumvent law in favor of what he thought was a higher good (in Saul’s case ignoring the law to destroy the animals of the Amalekites in order to bring sacrifices to God). I can see the argument Saul was making: we Jews, descendants of slaves, have been on a path of moral improvement for centuries. Through that time we have become a people of higher morals, better value judgment, and more sophisticated theological outlook. We know that God does not want the purposeless slaughter of animals. Hence, let us take these animals of the Amalekites and bring them as sacrifices to our most sublime God. That would be living a story. However, Samuel (and God) did not buy it. Samuel rebuked Saul by saying, God is not interested in your value judgments, but that you simply follow His law. 

Yet, perhaps things are not so clear. The mere fact that I quoted a story (about Saul and Samuel) to prove that we do not live a story suggests a tautology. Indeed, the Torah, even the law parts, is a story. No less a personage than Rashi formulated this question: why does the Torah not simply start with the first command given to the Jewish People? Furthermore, even in law we find story (see for example Simon-Shoshan’s “Stories of the Law”) and an actual case (story) in which a decision was rendered, as those found in responsa literature, has more halakhic weight than a theoretical test case. 

 

Still, the law would certainly get in the way of a story and especially a fantasy. In “The Frisco Kid” the protagonist refuses to ride his horse on Shabbat though trying to escape a posse. But that would be nothing compared to four kids from an Orthodox Jewish family getting into Narnia! I can see my son philosophizing over the halakhic status of talking beasts and my daughter trying to determine the proper direction in which to pray towards Jerusalem when Jerusalem is in a different universe. Can you imagine them traveling to Harfang and in the lands of the Lady of the Green Kirtle? They would have to ritually slaughter all the birds they caught. Underground, they would not know when to pray since they cannot see the sun. How would they put on tefillin every morning? And so and so on.  It would make the nightmares on the Dark Island seem tame. 

With that, I appear forced to concede that a Chronicles of Narnia like series would be unlikely to completely reflect the core elements of Judaism. Nonetheless, in my next post I will suggest why I think a Jewish Narnia along the lines I’ve described, should still be written. 

    

But, let me make one more point. Let us assume, as Michael says, the importance of story to Christianity. Is it not strange that Narnia is not known for storytelling? In fact, it is in Calormen where storytelling is an art form taught in schools. Narnia is not the land of storytelling but the land of poetry, and maybe the connection to Judaism there is a little stronger. We'll have to think about it...  

A Jewish Narnia Book 1: Ruth

Over the past several weeks I have suggested that the Sefirot would be an appropriate theme from which to construct a Jewish Narnia. Following the path C.S. Lewis discovered for us by Michael Ward, each book would create an atmosphere permeated with one of the Sefirot thus allowing the reader to “look along the beam” of that particular Sefirah and perceive God. In this post I would like to advance the idea that such a book already exists for the first Sefirah, Kindness: the book of Ruth. 

The book of Ruth is replete with examples of kindness. Let’s quickly review the main story. Elimelech, an important citizen of the city of Bethlehem in Judea, leaves his homeland due to famine and settles in Moab. He eventually dies and his two sons marry Moabite women and, after 10 years, they also die. At that point Naomi, Elimelech’s widow, decides to return to Judea having heard that the famine is over. She encourages her daughters-in-law to remain with their families in Moab, for neither she nor they can hope for a fulfilled life in Judea. Despite Naomi’s directive and the logic of her argument, one of her daughters-in-law, Ruth cleaves to her widowed mother-in-law and accompanies her home to Judea. 

In Judea, Naomi is too ashamed to be seen in public and it is Ruth who must support their needs. She does this happening upon a field where the poor are (as allowed by biblical law) collecting wheat (and later barley) that has fallen from the harvesters. It turns out that the owner of the field, Boaz, is related to Elimelech. He goes to see how the harvesters are doing and notices Ruth. He offers her food and water, and the opportunity to stay in his fields, essentially pledging support, explaining that he has heard of the great kindness she has performed for Naomi. 

Upon returning home, Naomi sees that Ruth has been incredibly successful. After hearing Ruth’s story she is galvanized to action and becomes determined to repay the kindness shown to her by arranging Ruth’s marriage to Boaz (though perhaps Naomi herself would have been better suited). Skipping over the details of her plan and its execution, Boaz agrees, though Ruth is a stranger in a foreign land. In fact, he declares that it is Ruth who is performing a kindness since her sterling character would certainly ensure she would have many credible suitors. The story ends with God’s payment in kind, blessing Ruth with a son who becomes a substitute for the two Naomi lost and is the progenitor of the Davidic dynasty. 

The major acts of kindness are obvious:

1. Ruth refusing to leave Naomi
2. Boaz’s support of Ruth
3. Naomi attempting to arrange for Ruth’s happiness in marriage
4. Boaz agreeing to marry Ruth
5. Ruth agreeing to marry Boaz
6. God blessing their offspring with the monarchy of Israel

Of course, the simple theme of kindness is insufficient to fulfill our criteria for a novel of Jewish Narnia. The book must be permeated with the atmosphere of the Sefira, and indeed it is. Subtle and small acts of kindness abound. Just to name a few: Boaz kindly greets his workers blessing them in the name of God, Ruth going home to Naomi every evening though she is invited to stay with Boaz’s clan, God granting a child for Naomi to care for in place of her own, and more. 

Beyond the acts of kindness themselves, Ruth strongly parallels Abraham, the personality most associated with the Sefirah of Kindness. Both are strangers who travel to Canaan/Israel to form a covenantal relationship with the true God. Both suffer from childlessness and are affected by famine. Once in Canaan/Israel both are rewarded with children from apparently elderly spouses eventually leading to the Jewish people and the Jewish monarchy. Of course, both exhibit acts of kindness. 

Other symbols of the Sefirah of kindness also weave their way into various parts of the story. The setting for much of the story are the grain fields of Boaz. Such fields are referred to by our Sages as “fields of white,” white being the color of the Sefirah of Kindness. Along similar lines, the Sefirah of Kindness is representative of God’s fourth utterance in Creation, “And God said, 'Let the Earth bring forth grass, the herb yielding seed…” (Genesis 1:11). Boaz offers that Ruth drink “from what the servants draw” referring to water. However, the verb drawing echoes the joyful drawing of water (Isaiah 12:3) performed during the Festival of Sukkot. There the drawing was not only of physical water but the drawing of the “upper waters,” that of divine inspiration (Jerusalem Talmud, Sukkah 22b). Finally, Ruth marries into the tribe of Judah which is represented by a lion, another symbol of the Sefirah of Kindness. 

One final point, despite the complete lack of overt miracles in the story, God’s name is constantly invoked. No doubt, this is due to God’s acts of kindness that exist “behind the scenes.” Ruth happens to end up in Boaz’s field, Boaz happens to be walking by, and so on. The emphasis on God is also to drive home that the kindness described in the book should teach us not only about human kindness, but should serve as a beam of light along which we can perceive the kindness of God. 

In summary, the book of Ruth may represent, or be a model for, the first book of a Jewish Narnia. Ruth’s main theme, side descriptions of the character's actions, and setting, all reflect the first Sefirah, Kindness, and its symbols. Furthermore, while the story can be told without invoking God as a character, God’s name is constantly mentioned, demonstrating that the book can be used to enlighten us on God’s kindness with humanity. 

Perhaps there are other sections of the bible that reflect other ones of the Sefirot and can also serve as a model for books of a Jewish Narnia. Feel free to chime in with ideas and I’ll let you know if I find any.