Is King Lune too Kind? (Part 1)

King Lune is the king of Archenland during Narnia's Golden Age under the Pevensies. In our first personal encounter with him in The Horse and His Boy, King Lune is described as, "the jolliest, fat, applecheeked, twinkling eyed King you could imagine." King Lune very much lives up to the implications of this description. He is welcoming, gracious, an understanding father, and a king who appears to have one the respect of his people by having respect for them. And, of course, he is kind even to his enemies. 

It is this last characteristic that I would like to examine. Is King Lune very kind, or kind to a fault? We have two situations in which this question arises: in his treatment of the Lord Bar and in his judgment of Prince Rabadash. Let us examine the first situation in this post.

The Lord Bar was King Lune's Lord Chancellor. Presumably the function of the Archenlandish Lord Chancellor was similar to that found in the United Kingdom, to ensure the functioning and administration of the Judiciary. The problem of course, was that the Lord Bar was embezzling funds that were presumably earmarked for the courts. This led to his dismissal, but beyond that, as described by Cor, "Nothing else was done to him and he was allowed to go on living in Archenland."

Was the punishment appropriate or too lenient? 

Well, that he needed to be dismissed is obviously necessary. Such a betrayal of trust of that sort clearly renders someone unfit for office. 

But what sort of sin is embezzling? Clearly it is theft, but it may also be treason?

If the situation was simply theft, we would expect the punishment to be at least to pay back the sums he stole. Biblical law prescribes that the thief pays back double as a type of fine (unless he himself admits that he stole). It would also seem reasonable that the reason for Lord Bar's dismissal was publicly proclaimed so that no one should trust him either. 

Should he have been allowed to continue living in Archenland? Well, simple theft does not seem to warrant exile. People steal for all sorts of reasons and of course we want to leave a door open for the person to repent. 

However, if the embezzling was treasonous, exile would seem to be very appropriate. Was Lord Bar's motives investigated? Was he in the pay of the Tisroc before or only after he was caught stealing? Was he the type of person who would seek and/or have the means to take revenge on the crown? 

These all seem to be relevant and important questions especially for someone who betrayed his office: Lord Bar was in charge of the sources of justice but was very much unjust himself.

Of course, we know what happens. Lord Bar is not exiled and eventually is able to kidnap the crown prince. That this outcome fts Aslan's plans is irrelevant. All outcomes can fit Aslan's plans. But, whether King Lune was too kind is an open question. And one that we can further explore in the next scenario: his treatment of Prince Rabadash, the Crown Prince of Calormen.   

Lucy Won't Grow Up?

A while ago we asked what would have happened to the Pevensie children had they not been killed in the railway accident. For now I'm going to concentrate on Lucy before going off on some other topic (yet again)... 

We've mentioned previously that Lucy is unique amongst the Pevensie children in that she is the only one who does not grow up. At the end of The Lion the Witch and Wardrobe Lewis describes how the children, "grew and changed as the years passed over them." Lucy is described last, and Lewis writes about her, "But as for Lucy, she was always gay and golden-haired..." She did not change, she kept her childlike traits of curiosity, passion, adventurous, and the like as we've discussed before. 

But what would have happened had she grown up in our world? 

Of course, we don't know, she was killed at age 17, still very much a friend of Narnia. Still, we have heroines in Lewis' oeuvre and maybe some of them can serve as models. The most obvious parallel would be Sarah Smith from The Great Divorce. Sarah had "unbearable beauty" no doubt beyond that of all mortals. She is not the only Lewis heroine to have such beauty stemming from the inner spiritual manifesting outward, Psyche (and eventually Orual) do as well. Lucy too sought beauty beyond the lot of mortals and achieves it (almost) upon seeing Aslan.

But what next? Does Lucy join a convent and dedicate her life to Jesus? Does she go to university and give up on spirituality altogether, favoring physical beauty over spiritual? Our Sages suggest this is what happened to Noah's great-grandfather Hanoch, who God killed young before he could go off the proper path. Or does Lucy lead a "normal" Christian life, marrying, having children and grandchildren follow her ways, before her eventual passing?

It's hard to tell since Lewis does not provide us with too many happily married couples. Sarah Smith is married, but her husband is quite the tragedian as we see in the Great Divorce. How they could have gotten along is anyone's guess. And that marriage was probably more successful than that of poor Robert to his overbearing wife. In Narnia, Aravis and Cor marry and seem happy, though we don't know much about their married life besides that they argue and make up. Psyche marries, but, with Orual's help, that doesn't go very well. There are some couples in the Space trilogy: Mark and Jane are married, but that seems more of a convenience than a marriage until the end. Nor do we see methods of having (and raising) children - Lewis speaks positively about family, but we don't see too many.    

Nonetheless, I'm going to assert that Lucy does not grow up. She keeps her valiance, hopefully finds someone appropriate and lives happily ever after. 

Coming Soon...

My apologies for not posting recently. I'm trying to put together some non-Narnia related articles (on the formulation of the Friday night kiddush and the symbolism of the Tabernacle). Stay tuned though for thoughts on how the Pevensies would grow up (had they not been killed in a car crash) and also on the following question: is King Lune too kind?

Does Aslan Choose Only the Pevensies?

Our last post ended with a couple of questions attempting to understand the connection between Aslan and Jesus. Specifically, if Aslan's goal was to sensitize the Pevensies towards recognizing Jesus in our world, why not just come out and say so? Why the coyness? A related question is why were only the Pevensie children given this head start in recognizing God - why not others as well? 

The answer to our first question is already addressed by Lewis in The Screwtape Letters. In the eighth letter, Screwtape sets out the balance with which God approaches humans: 

He cannot ravish. He can only woo. For His ignoble idea is to eat the cake and have it; the creatures are to be one with Him, but yet themselves; merely to cancel them, or assimilate them, will not serve. He is prepared to do a little overriding at the beginning...

Aslan's goal is to keep this balance, making his presence known to the Pevensies in Narnia, but not sharing the same intimacy with them, or even revealing his name, in their own world. 

How far is God willing to go in overriding human will?

Well, maybe that depends on the person. I think, and perhaps Lewis would agree, that God makes overtures to every human. How far God then goes, depends on how each individual responds to His initial overtures. The Pevensies were no different than anyone else. However, Aslan reveals himself almost completely to the Pevensies because the Pevensies, and specifically Lucy, desire his revelation.  

As we remember, it was Lucy who first entered the Wardrobe and "discovered" the world of Narnia. Upon noticing she was out of the Wardrobe and into somewhere else she could have turned around and gone back. But, instead, she displayed a sense of curiosity and a willingness to "suspend disbelief" two childlike characteristics that Lewis praises and are fundamental to forming a relationship with God. And, in fact, she maintains "a devotion to experiences" even in the face of doubt and taunting. 

Lucy's siblings, however, are less keen on entering Narnia. Edmund, of course, is swayed by evil so has a desire to make the best of Narnia when he enters. But Peter and Susan at least consider the possibility of leaving everything behind once they discover Tumnus' home is wrecked. And, thus, again we have a moment of truth. Peter and Susan choose to stay and help instead of going home and thus set themselves up for their first direct revelation of Aslan.

And so it goes, at every step the Pevensies could have made the wrong decision and would not have formed as close of a relationship with Aslan. However, they went all the way, and were finally told that their time in Narnia was up, and further relationships with God must take place in their own world.

The Pevensies were given no more of a head start in forming a relationship with God than anyone else. And while it may seem that way, that is only so because they, and specifically Lucy, heard or felt God's overtures made the right decisions at the right times. 

As for the rest of us, perhaps we have missed overtures in our own life. Or maybe we heard them but failed to follow because we were scared or lazy. Maybe we heard God's knock but struggled to get out of bed to answer the door or maybe we were too busy with our smartphones to even hear the knock. Either way, there is no reason to despair (I hope). God continues to send out overtures, He keeps knocking, and that's how we can keep going into adulthood. 

We'll start with Lucy... 

Had the Pevensie Children Lived

One of the apparent challenges in Lewis literary oeuvre is the quick passing of the best characters. Wormwood's patient is killed by the London blitzkrieg soon after converting, Ransom remains on Earth for a while after visiting Malacandra and Peralandra, but not very long, and, of course, the Pevensies never reach their mid-twenties. While understandable, books must be limited in length, and series cannot have an overwhelming number of entries, it does relieve Lewis from addressing head on certain issues. These issues are succinctly formulated by Screwtape: 

The long, dull monotonous years of middle-aged prosperity or middle-aged adversity are excellent campaigning weather. You see, it is so hard for these creatures to persevere. The routine of adversity, the gradual decay of youthful loves and youthful hopes, the quiet despair (hardly felt as pain) of ever overcoming the chronic temptations with which we have again and again defeated them, the drabness which we create in their lives and the inarticulate resentment with which we teach them to respond to it — all this provides admirable opportunities of wearing out a soul by attrition. (Letter 28)

We have discussed the spiritual failings of Susan, but can we be so sure that the others would have remained spiritually secure. And, if they did, how did they? 

Of course, we know that Lucy is told by Alsan that the reason he brought the Pevensies to Narnia was so that they could recognize Aslan in their own world, though he goes by a different name. This would suggest that they are charged with finding Jesus and becoming good Christians. However, this just raises other questions. Why did Aslan choose the Pevensie children and no one else? Why do we see so little direct Christian expression in Narnia? Why does Aslan not come out and say his name?

Let's discuss... 

The Abdication of Queen Susan (Part 4)

Can Queen Susan ever be reclaimed for Narnia?

Lewis has said as much in his Collected Letters, and I am honestly not sure why anyone would even think otherwise. Lewis himself did not convert until he was in his 30s and made the statement of not being ashamed of reading fairytales when he was 50. So why should anyone give up on the 21-year-old Susan? 

Unfortunately, she has now be struck with a horrific tragedy, losing her parents and siblings suddenly and all at once and it would be quite wrong to judge someone else on how might react to such a terrible fate. Nonetheless, there is plenty of time. And, hopefully, she can survive the terrible blow against her and mature into a reflective and more profound adult. 

And, despite Lewis' unwillingness to commit to Susan's eventual repentance, I think he's rooting for her and believes she will make it. I've mentioned this before in our discussion of Susan's horn, but let's expand of that a bit.

In The Lion and Witch and the Wardrobe, Peter, Susan, and Lucy, receive presents from Father Christmas which, we are later told, "they valued more than their whole kingdom." Susan received a bow, a quiver full of arrows, and an ivory horn. The Chronicles record two times that the horn was blown (once by Susan, once by Caspian) and at the end of Prince Caspian there are two things to note. First, Caspian offers the horn back to Susan, but Susan tells him to keep it. Second, as Susan leaves Narnia for the last time she is cheered as Queen Susan of the Horn. Finally, in The Voyage of the Dawn Treader we are told that Queen Susan's horn was left with the Regent Trumpkin in case of great need. And that is the last we hear of it. 

What happened to Susan's horn? Why was it not blown by Tirian in the Last Battle? Surely such a treasure should have been carefully guarded by Caspian's heirs. I'm not sure I can answer those questions but let's try another one.  

Why was Susan called Queen Susan of the Horn? There's no reason to think she blew it more than once. Presumably the answer is because she always had the horn at her side. In fact, she was the only one who had her gift with her the day they went hunting the White Stag and ended up back in England. Lucy did not have her cordial, Peter did not have his sword, but Susan had her horn. Susan trusted the horn and with it she always had the ability to call out for help.

But Susan is called Queen Susan of the Horn even as she gives the horn to Caspian. For she, and the Narnians, know that the horn is only an external manifestation of something more fundamental: the ability to call out to God and ask for salvation. Queen Susan no longer needs the horn, for she has now internalized its abilities. 

The 21-year-old Susan is no longer inspired by Narnia. She has lost her spiritual way. She believes she has life figured out. How many of us felt the same in our early twenties, absolutely sure that we have all the answers and a clear path towards a bright future? But her life has now changed drastically, and she will quickly learn what (hopefully) all of us do as we grow older, that we are not as smart as we thought, and that life is not that easy. 

And with that, the horn within Susan will blow and bring her back to Narnia. 

The Laws of Undulation (Part 2)

We will get back to Susan, but a little more thought on the Laws of Undulation...

Last time we saw two different formulations of undulation in the relationship between man and God. Lewis' formulation starts by acknowledging that humans - who are amphibians between spiritual and physical and live in time, cannot remain consistent in their relationship with God. Thus, a human's interest in work, friends, and, presumably God, will wax and wane. As Lewis puts it, "the repeated return to a level from which they repeatedly fall back, a series of troughs and peaks."

A priori, this behavior sounds similar to that of a pendulum in which first the physical side is dominant and then the spiritual in a never-ending, uncontrollable cycle. However, that is not quite accurate. First, Lewis notes the importance of the troughs for spiritual growth and that at times God purposely withdraws His presence. In fact, some of God's favorites experience long and deep troughs. This suggests that it is not (and least not only) human nature that causes undulation, but that God Himself may insert control. Perhaps, and likely, human also have some control. Can a person make themselves stay towards the physical without ever approaching the spiritual? 

Second, a pendulum has a limit on both ends and while it is likely that the physicality of humans will force a limit on spiritual attainment, is the other way true as well? Can a human ever become purely physical such that his or her spiritual element is completely deadened? The same challenge must be addressed by R' Soloveichik's undulation as well. Finite humanity cannot, as it were, consummate love with the Divine. But can humanity be completely swallowed by awe and fear such that they will never experience love? Or will love of God eventually assert itself and force a swing towards the other direction?  

I think Lewis somewhat addresses this question in his book Till We Have Faces. For those not familiar with that work (and who have not read our previous comments on it) Queen Orual of Glome hates the gods who she believes have stolen from her the love of her sister, Psyche. In fact, Orual's love for Psyche was doomed from Orual's refusal to recognize the gods and bring them into her relationship (thus dooming the relationship as described by Lewis in The Four Loves). Orual decides that the best way of ignoring her grief is to kill her true self, her personality and persona and thus escape the gods. And, for most of her life, it works. She spends her time transforming herself into royalty and concentrating on her royal duties. But it does not last. Eventually the gods force her to confront herself and the spiritual side of her that she has so long sought to avoid returns in full force.