When The Lion Called: Eight Years On

Eight years ago, on 26 November 2006, I nervously clicked on the "register" button for the online forum of a website called The Lion's Call, little knowing that it would change my life. I was fairly new to the world of the internet, my family having only gotten a dial-up connection at home in the January of that year. This was before the days of Facebook (at least it hadn't yet become a "thing", although MySpace was popular with my friends) and I was highly suspicious of signing up to anything that required giving out email addresses and other details. But this website, which I had been browsing recently, seemed like a friendly and safe site and it made clear that it was a Christian site and there were strict rules about minors being allowed to join and what could and could not be posted. I decided to risk it. In retrospect, I was a bit like Lucy Pevensie, taking those first cautious steps through the wardrobe into a woodland of snow and a great adventure.

The Lion's Call website (TLC) was created by Kristi Simonson for fans of C.S. Lewis' Chronicles of Narnia series and, apart from the discussion forum (which was what I was signing up to join) it had other interesting features including a character builder, some simple games, and write-in threads like "you know you're addicted to Narnia when...". The forum in those days was small and mainly involved discussions relating directly to the Chronicles of Narnia books, The Lion the Witch and the Wardrobe film (which had been released just less than a year before) and speculations about the Prince Caspian film that would follow it. I think the first thing I ever posted on the forum was a comment on a discussion about what became of Susan Pevensie after the events of The Last Battle, something I had been thinking about a bit in the last year. The ideas I had had about that became the germ of my (still ongoing) fan fiction story about Susan, which one of the TLCers was to convince me to start four years later. After joining the forum, it became a regular ritual to visit the site when I got a chance and read and comment on the latest discussions.

In February of the following year, I started University and I would often visit TLC when I was dropped off early in the mornings before the library had opened and the computer LANs were not yet busy (few people had their own laptops in those days). As the years passed, the website grew, and the forum became larger and more active. We found that many members had more in common than just our interest in Narnia and we started discussions on other topics including other fantasy worlds (especially Tolkien and Middle Earth) and faith and religion. We also had many members who were budding writers of fiction or poetry and so forum threads started on discussing writing, and people would share whatever they were working on. The site developed well beyond Narnia and became a real community where people felt safe sharing even personal issues.

I had known from the start that the site also had a chat room, but I never went anywhere near that part of it. Chat rooms were dangerous and "evil"; my parents wouldn't approve and you weren't allowed visiting chat rooms on the university computers in any case.

But then in December 2010, four years after I joined, there were posts on the forum about a planned Day of Prayer to be held in the website's chat room. Enough things had changed by this point that I felt confident enough to venture into the chat room to join the prayer session: and by now I knew that I could trust the people on the site. Also, earlier that year we had finally upgraded to broadband internet at home and I now had my own netbook computer. I was also a whole lot older and (theoretically, at least) two degrees wiser.

Joining chat opened up a whole new chapter in my life. These people with whom I had only communicated remotely (by reading and responding to forum posts, often overnight, because of time differences) I could now "chat with" (using text) in real time. I also hadn't realised, but in the last year or so more and more of the discussions had moved over from the forum to the chat room (which would explain why the forum had become more quiet than it had been). More importantly, I got to know the other members on the site at a deeper level because we could ask and respond to more personal questions in a less formal and less public setting.

I joined TLC chat at a critical period of my life. I had been applying for scholarships to Oxford and the TLC community had played a large part in encouraging me through that process and praying for me (even before I joined chat). Being the shy, reserved person I am, this online community gave me a safe place to share my concerns and struggles (I had always been better at articulating my thoughts in writing than in speech).

In June 2011, I joined Facebook for the first time. By now, it had been confirmed that I was going to Oxford, and I wanted to be able to keep contact with my friends and family in South Africa. By this time, TLC, had developed something of a presence on Facebook as well and through that and private messages I became Facebook friends with some of the TLCers (cautiously, and only with those I trusted, because on TLC itself we were encouraged not to divulge private details). And for the first time the window was opened onto the "real lives" of many of my TLC friends - I got to learn their real names, see what they really looked like and learn a bit more about their lives outside of TLC.

Picture by Lily of Archenland

When I moved to Oxford, I was privileged to meet two TLCers in real life: a British girl, and an American lady, who was visiting the UK with her husband. I got to stay at the home of the British girl on a number of occasions and we have since become good friends.

It's impossible to describe all the things that have happened in these past eight years, but I wouldn't have missed them for the world. I am now a staff member on the website and editor for our news team. The social, spiritual and intellectual blessings gained from being part of the TLC community is something that can't be measured. I am eternally grateful that I clicked on that "register button" all those years ago.

Lessons from the TARDIS

Warning: Potential spoilers for all of Doctor Who post 2005 (especially 1.13 The Parting of Ways, 6.4 The Doctor's Wife and 7.13 The Name of the Doctor). This is written with the assumption that you are familiar with the stories.

I'm always a little hesitant to make spiritual applications to secular things. But here I am doing it again :-p And I suppose that it is something Jesus himself did in parables (taking the secular and using it to explain sacred lessons). Various people have pointed out the God-like characteristics of the Time Lord known as the Doctor in the popular British TV series Doctor Who. I did it myself some time ago in my post The Doctor and Jesus. It tends to make me feel a little uncomfortable, although I have seen it done well and sensitively. I have no problem, for example, pointing out character traits of the Doctor that can demonstrate Christ-like behaviour (as one might do with biblical characters such as Noah and Joseph and David). It's when people start seeing him as a replacement for God or an incarnation of Jesus (problematic for various reasons, not the least of which are his many faults), that I feel they have gone too far. I suppose that it is the Doctor's super-human abilities (which enable him to save planets and races and overcome death), that lend to his being compared to God and/or Christ. But it recently occurred to me that there is another character in Doctor Who which can provide for us lessons or illustrations about God and his character and how he interacts with mankind. The Doctor's sentient space ship, the T.A.R.D.I.S, bears a number of similarities to the Christian concept of God. And so I present to you five "Lessons from the TARDIS".

1. "I always took you where you needed to go"

The TARDIS is notorious for messing up the Doctor's instructions and taking taking him and his companions everywhere but where they want to go. The Doctor plans to take Amy and Rory to sunny Rio, but they end up in a cold rural Welsh village, just in time to rescue the earth from an invasion of Homo Reptilia. He tries to take Rose to a concert in Sheffield in 1979 but they end up in Victorian Scotland a hundred years earlier (and help to save Queen Victoria's life – and the world). He promises to take Donna to Ancient Rome, but but they arrive in Pompeii just in time for Mt Vesuvius to erupt. Even in the Classic era, he seldom ends up where he planned to take his companions – regularly getting either the place or year (or both) wrong.

It is never entirely clear whether it's the Doctor's lack of flying skill or the TARDIS' unreliability that is at fault; perhaps it is a combination of both. We know the Doctor didn't care much for following the TARDIS instruction manual, and that River, who was taught by the TARDIS herself was much better at flying than he was. But at the same time, the splinter-version of Clara that visits the First Doctor, telling him which TARDIS he should steal, mentions that her navigation system is “knackered”.

In the last episode of Series I, The Parting of Ways, it seems that there is even more going on than the Doctor's flying skills or the TARDIS' navigation system being unreliable. In this episode, we discover that the various occurrences of the words "Bad Wolf" throughout the series were not coincidental, but part of a greater plan which the TARDIS had some sort of control over.

In the episode from Series VI called The Doctor's Wife, the episode in which we learn the most about the TARDIS (because it is the one time she is given a voice), the Doctor openly questions her unreliability. Her response is profound.

I just want to say, you know, you have never been very reliable. 

And you have? 
You didn't always take me where I wanted to go.

No, but I always took you where you needed to go.

The Doctor is stumped. He can't argue back because he knows she is telling the truth. Every time he ended up somewhere other than where he intended to go, it was for a good reason. Usually she brings him to a place at a point in history just in time to save the world (or universe) from a terrible fate/destruction. Sometimes, it is for his own good or character-building or that of his companion(s). Though he has many narrow calls and sometimes he regrets (at least in part) the outcome, I don't think he could ever say to the TARDIS, looking back, “Why did you take me there?” There was always a reason for her taking him off course and it was always for the good of him, his companions and the universe as a whole.

It is in this respect, that the TARDIS reminds us of the Lord. We often find ourselves in places where we can't understand what is going on and why the Lord has let us end up in that place. But without fail, whenever we look back, we can always see how that was exactly where we needed to be at that point in time. Whether for our own good, or for the good of others, all the things in our lives that might look like accidents, really aren't. He always takes us where we need to go.

And we know that all things work together for good to those who love God, to those who are the called according to His purpose. (Rom 8:28)

From one man he made all the nations, that they should inhabit the whole earth; and he marked out their appointed times in history and the boundaries of their lands. (Acts 17:26)

2. Outside of Time

A second characteristic of the TARDIS that reminds us of the nature of God, is the manner in which she exists outside of time. I've never fully understood the mechanics of TARDIS time travel (I don't think it's ever fully explained), but we know she enters this tunnel that exists outside of time and space (the time vortex) and from there she can take the doctor to any point in the universe and in history. We see this in The Doctor's Wife when Idris gets confused about tenses and the past and present and starts talking about things that haven't happened yet.

The Doctor: Why am I a thief? What have I stolen?
Idris: Me. Are you going to steal me? You have stolen me. You are stealing me. Oh! Tenses are difficult, aren't they?

We get an even more powerful idea of this in The Parting of Ways. Rose, having absorbed the soul of the TARDIS makes the following famous speech:

I am the Bad Wolf. I create myself. I take the words...I scatter them, in time and space. A message, to lead myself here. You are tiny. I can see the whole of time and space, every single atom of your existence, and I divide them. Everything must come to dust. All things, everything dies. The time war ends. How can I let go of this? I bring life. The sun and the moon, the day and night. I can see everything... all that is... all that was... all that ever could be.

The TARDIS herself can't usually create life, but in this particular situation (I'm never quite sure how much is TARDIS and how much is time vortex and what the actual difference is), we get the idea of how transcendent the TARDIS is with respect to our little closed sphere of time and space. Even the Doctor, who can travel in time, needs to physically travel backwards and forwards to experience different occurrences. The TARDIS on the other hand seems to exist outside of time and knows all things that have happened and will happen simultaneously. That, in fact, is how she was able to always take the Doctor where he needed to go.

And so with God. He created time and exists outside of it. To him tenses are meaningless (except in his understanding of how they apply to us). He knows the beginning from the end and has seen all the days of our lives before any has come to be.

From everlasting to everlasting you are God.

A thousand years in your sight
are like a day that has just gone by,
or like a watch in the night. (Psalm 90:2b, 4)

For thus says the High and Lofty One
Who inhabits eternity, whose name is Holy... (Isaiah 57:15a)

Where can I go from your Spirit?
Where can I flee from your presence?

If I go up to the heavens, you are there;
if I make my bed in the depths, you are there.
If I rise on the wings of the dawn,
if I settle on the far side of the sea,
even there your hand will guide me,
your right hand will hold me fast. (Psalm 139:7-10)

3. "This was when we talked"

One peculiar characteristic of the TARDIS is that although she is sentient and intelligent, she is not usually able to communicate with the Doctor. There is no direct interface between them and though the Doctor can speak to her (and it seems she hears him), she does not speak back.

Except once. In The Doctor's Wife, the soul of the TARDIS was removed from the machine and poured into the body of a human woman, Idris. Suddenly she was given a voice, and she could tell the Doctor things directly. They could discuss past events (their running away together), their present struggles, and even some hints about the future were given (“the only water in the forest is the river”).

While the circumstances are vastly different, God too does not normally speak to us directly. His communication with us, for the most part, is through what we can see in the world he has created, from his revealed word (the bible), from the events that happen in our lives, and sometimes through the mouths of others speaking on his behalf. In Old Testament times, he revealed his Law to the patriarchs and Moses and the prophets and for a long time that was all people had to go on as direct communication from God. I suppose the Law might be compared to the TARDIS instruction manual. Men in general had (and still have) the same attitude to God's Law as the Doctor did to the manual: “I threw it into a supernova, because I disagreed with it.”

But once, just once, for a short period, God, like the TARDIS, did communicate with us directly. This was when he came to earth in the form of a human, Jesus Christ. As Idris contained the soul of the TARDIS, so Jesus was the essence of God poured into the body of a human. During this time, he explained in person who God was, what he had done in the past and what would happen in the future. Of course, Jesus did a lot more than this. In the case of Idris, her “incarnation” was accidental (the work of a hostile enemy), whereas Jesus' incarnation was intentional and planned from before the beginning of time as the means by which God would save humans from their sinful and doomed nature.

In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God. And the Word became flesh and dwelt among us, and we beheld His glory, the glory as of the only begotten of the Father, full of grace and truth. (John 1: 1; 14). 

God, who at various times and in various ways spoke in time past to the fathers by the prophets, has in these last days spoken to us by His Son, whom He has appointed heir of all things, through whom also He made the worlds; who being the brightness of His glory and the express image of His person, and upholding all things by the word of His power, when He had by Himself purged our sins, sat down at the right hand of the Majesty on high. (Heb 1:1-3)

While the plan was different, and Jesus' death was far more important to all people, there is one similarity in their deaths. When Jesus was crucified, his enemies thought they had won. They assumed that he was defeated once and for all, but they were wrong. Jesus, because of his holiness and lack of sin, could not remain dead, but was raised again to life triumphant. So Idris, when House thought he had destroyed her, found that the last laugh was not his. He made the mistake of trying to kill her in her own TARDIS shell. He had placed her in a body that would not long survive being inhabited by a TARDIS soul, but as the body decayed, her soul was set free and able to return to it's true house.

One of the last things Idris says to the Doctor, before the soul of the TARDIS left her, was “I'll always be here, but this is when we talked”. The TARDIS is still with the Doctor, but they have reverted to the old manner of living. There is no more direct communication, but they still live and travel together. She is always with him and there for him, making sure he ends up exactly where he needs to be.

Are you there? Can you hear me? Oh, I'm a silly old... Okay. The Eye of Orion, or wherever we need to go.

So, when Jesus returned to heaven, the time during which God lived on earth and communicated directly with mankind was at an end. But we have the record of what he said and did while he was here to encourage us and help us to understand better what it is God wants from us as we live.

4. "I stole you"

This has the potential for entering muddy waters, but I don't think it needs to. Bear with me as I try to make the point I have in mind. One of the most poignant (though also humorous) moments in The Doctor's Wife is the following conversation:

Idris: Do you ever wonder why I chose you all those years ago?
The Doctor: I chose you. You were unlocked.

Idris: Of course I was. I wanted to see the Universe so I stole a Time Lord and I ran away. And you were the only one mad enough.

This is a funny moment, but interesting too. Which version of the story is true? Despite what she says, the TARDIS does not hesitate to refer to the Doctor as “my thief”, implying that she does not take full responsibility for their running away together. I think the answer is that both versions are true. The TARDIS almost admits as much earlier on in the episode (when we still aren't entirely sure who she is): "Then you stole me. And I stole you." The Doctor wanted to run away, so he stole a TARDIS. The TARDIS wanted to see the universe, so she left her doors open for him to find her. The TARDIS provided the means of escape, but there was also a desire on the part of the Doctor to make use of those open doors and use the TARDIS as his means of escape.

This is a terribly inadequate description of what happens at salvation and I honestly don't want to take it any further, but I like the idea of it as a springboard for understanding the problem. I don't think we'll ever find the answer to the question of how we come to salvation (of our own free will or by God's sovereign will) by asking which of the two options are the right one. Like the question of whether the Doctor stole the TARDIS or the TARDIS stole the Doctor, the answer isn't either/or. Both are simultaneously true.

If you confess with your mouth the Lord Jesus and believe in your heart that God has raised Him from the dead, you will be saved. (Rom 10:9)

For by grace you have been saved through faith, and that not of yourselves; it is the gift of God, not of works, lest anyone should boast. (Eph 2:8-9)

Also, this is probably taking things too far, but since I'm already here, one more point. The story of the Doctor's original departure from Gallifrey is a little bit more complex since The Name of the Doctor aired. No longer is it simply a question of the Doctor or the TARDIS choosing each other. When I first watched the scene where Clara confronts the First Doctor, telling him to steal a different TARDIS to the one he was actually planning to take, I really liked the idea. But then I realised that it contradicted the TARDIS' version of the story from The Doctor's Wife where it is implied that he stole that particular TARDIS because she was the one with unlocked doors. We don't know anything about the other TARDIS the Doctor was planning to steal before Clara intervened (whether or not her – or his; do we have male TARDISes?) doors were unlocked, or whether the Doctor was planning to break in somehow. Whatever the story was, could I make a half-hearted suggestion that Clara's role in this story was like that of an evangelist (by which I mean any Christian sharing the Gospel with another person) who pointed the Doctor to the right TARDIS?

I'm gong to leave this issue here. (*hides from barrage of responses*)

5. The Doctor's Wife (an unusual marriage)

Finally, I always found the title of the episode The Doctor's Wife slightly confusing. I get the point about the Doctor and the TARDIS being like an old married couple – always together, often arguing, but sharing a deep respect, care and love for each other. Amy put it best when she said “Look at you pair. It's always you and her isn't it? Long after the rest of us have gone”.

But at the same time, I found this rather incongruous in the light of the Doctor's relationships with his companions. If the Doctor was really, in some sense “married” to the TARDIS, how dare he go about falling in love with Rose Tyler, flirting with countless other women, and in the very same series in which The Doctor's Wife takes place – marrying River Song?

I should probably put some context to my complaint. I read a review of The Doctor's Wife before ever seeing an episode of Doctor Who. As a result, I went into the first episode (and those subequent) with the idea that the Doctor was in reality (secretly?) married to the TARDIS. Remember, I had very little idea when I read the review of who the Doctor was, what he was like and how his relationship with the TARDIS and his companions worked. As I watched more and more programmes, I realised where and how I had been mistaken in understanding the Doctor's relationship with the TARDIS. But I still felt slightly annoyed by the title The Doctor's Wife, if for no other reason than that it had mislead and confused me.

I get it now, of course. The relationship with the Doctor and the TARDIS, while bearing some resemblance to a marriage in its consistency, duration and their care for each other is not in any sense a conventional marriage. As discussed above, they can't even have direct conversations with each other. It's a kind of transcendent marriage – they are soul-mates; but in a very different way to how the Doctor and River could be called soul-mates.

In fact, largely based on the characteristics discussed in the previous points, the relationship between the Doctor and the TARDIS is in some ways similar to that of a Christian and Christ. We talk about “giving our lives” to him, and much of the vocabulary of love and marriage can apply to a Christian's relationship with Jesus. This does not mean that Christians should all forego earthly relationships with other humans, that we should dedicate our lives to him and never love or marry a human being. On the contrary, he wants us to have relationships with other people as representative of the kind of relationship he has with us.

Wives, submit to your own husbands, as to the Lord. For the husband is head of the wife, as also Christ is head of the church; and He is the Saviour of the body.... Husbands, love your wives, just as Christ also loved the church and gave Himself for her, that He might sanctify and cleanse her with the washing of water by the word, that He might present her to Himself a glorious church, not having spot or wrinkle or any such thing, but that she should be holy and without blemish. (Eph 5: 22-27)

The relationships between the Doctor and his companions belong on a completely different plane to his relationship with the TARDIS. They are not mutually exclusive because they are not the same kind of thing. Just as we have a love-relationship with Christ that does not contradict our relationships with people. Of course, we need to be in relationships with people who will respect and understand our relationship with Christ, in the same way the Doctor needs companions who respect the TARDIS and whom the TARDIS respects in return. The Church is described at various points in the New Testament as being the Bride of Christ. We can understand a little better how this works when we understand the role of the Doctor as the husband of the TARDIS.

I hope by this post to have been able to share my thoughts on how we might be encouraged by characteristics of the TARDIS in understanding our relationship with God. You're welcome to disagree with any of my analogies because I'm sure they have problems.

The Magician's Nephew: Photographs

Summer Challenge '13

Forest of Dean, Gloucestershire

Beaumaris Castle, Anglesey

Worcester College, Oxford

The Magician's Nephew: Chapters 4-5

Summer Challenge '13: The Atlantis Connection

As I mentioned on the first day, I’ve always been fascinated by Atlantis and its role in the Narnia universe. And one of the things that’s puzzled me for a number of years is the fact that I’ve always associated it with Charn. When I read the description of Charn – old ornate stone buildings, terraces, the whole palace complex – it has the feel to it of descriptions of the lost continent. It has the feel of a society highly advanced, powerful and cruel. And then there’s the desolation. While it’s true that from the earliest myths, Atlantis was lost by drowning, the result is that most stories of its “discovery” involve the discovery of an ancient and now crumbling city (sometimes underwater, sometimes not) and Charn seems so accurately to mirror those depictions. After Jadis is awakened, my sense of connection between Atlantis and Charn grows, as we learn a little about the history and people and culture of Charn. She refers to slaves, sacrificial drums and terrible battle. And then there is Jadis’ story itself, so full of arrogance and the desire for absolute power. It was arrogance of this sort that led to the downfall and destruction of Atlantis in the old myths. The way Jadis’ ancestors are described as looking grimmer, prouder and crueller in the Hall of Images as time wears on, points to an increasingly arrogant society.

Yet despite all these connections, I’ve never been able to convince myself that there is any real link between Charn and Atlantis. There’s nothing in the story that suggests that there should be. The dust that Uncle Andrew uses to make the rings comes from Atlantis, and the Atlanteans somehow got it from the Wood Between the Worlds. The Wood has pools leading to all worlds, and Charn is just one of those many worlds. Ours is another. Charn is the one Digory and Polly arbitrarily pick to explore. There is no reason that Charn should be related to Atlantis any more than our world or Narnia. For these reasons I’ve never pursued the links that I noticed between the two.

But after reading the chapters that describe Charn, I’ve been thinking about it some more. And there might be a way of accounting for the links and attributing them to more than mere coincidence. I’ve often wondered whether the Atlantis to which Uncle Andrew refers was really another world; another world of which rumours had come to our world many years ago; rumours which had been passed down in legend. That at any rate would account for there not being any trace of it in our world today. But that introduces other problems, and Uncle Andrew talks of it as a civilisation in our world and by removing it from our world, we lose the legends of its wars with Greece and many other accounts in which it is really a civilisation of our own.

But what if Atlantis was indeed a civilisation in our world, but one that had links with another? A colony from another world? We know that the Atlanteans must have had the ability to travel between worlds (at least between our world and the Wood) and so if the people who settled Atlantis were really from another world that had the power of inter-world travel; could they not have set up a colony in our world? That would account for the advanced technology and skill that the Atlanteans possessed in so many versions of the myth.

And if Atlantis were a colony of another world, that world might have been Charn. That way we have an explanation for the similarities in architecture and culture and the apparent pride of the race, but maintain the more traditional accounts of Atlantis as a place in our world that was drowned when its people became too proud. In fact, I’d even suggest that what caused the downfall of Atlantis was an attempt by one among its people to use the Deplorable Word to gain a victory. We know Charnian magic doesn’t work in our world the way it does in Charn, so instead of destroying all living things, the uttering of the word destroyed only the continent of Atlantis, drowning it in the fury of the sea.

One problem still remains. It is purely coincidence that the world from which the Atlanteans originated was the exact same one that Digory and Polly chose to explore; coincidence that the society that had the dust from the Wood between the Worlds, originated from the one world that our heroes chose to visit. We could call it coincidence and leave it at that. Maybe it happened to be the pool closest to our own. Or maybe there was more going on. We know that Jadis set up the bell and hammer in the hopes that a magician would come and awaken her from sleep and take her to a new place that she could conquer. So perhaps her magic was at work beyond the realms of Charn itself, working in the Wood to draw Digory and Polly towards it. It was not coincidence, but Jadis’ spell that made them choose that pool. And why not? If the dust from the Wood from which the rings were made had belonged to those in Atlantis who were colonists from Charn, maybe magic of Charn could work through the dust and the rings. After all, perhaps, knowing something of the Colony of Atlantis, Jadis was hoping that it would be someone from Atlantis itself, a relation with similar magic, though one inferior to her, that would come and rescue her. Unfortunately Jadis’ plan went a little awry, and it was the non-magical nephew of a weak dabbler in magic, many generations since Atlantis itself was destroyed purely on the search for an adventure that woke her up instead.

Finally, I’d like to suggest that there were some survivors of Atlantis. Just a few. These, as suggested in Stephen Lawhead’s Taliesin, escaped by boat and arrived at last on some shore, perhaps England itself. These survivors, of a different race to ours, kept to themselves and had strange practises, even “magic” of a sort. They became the fair folk, or faerie of British legend. For the most part, they died out, but a few fell in love with humans from our world and married them. Generations later, the descendants of one of these survivors was Uncle Andrew’s godmother, Mrs Lefay. She really did have fairy blood in her, and it was by her connection with Atlantis that she inherited the small chest of dust from the Wood Between the Worlds.

The Magician's Nephew: Chapters 3-4

Summer Challenge '13: Digory Kirke

I’ve always thought of Edmund and Eustace as characters that start out quite nasty and then, through their adventures and encounters with Aslan, they develop and mature. I’ve never really thought of Digory as belonging to the same category as these two boys, but when you think about some of his actions in these two chapters, he has a good number of character flaws and, as others have pointed out, is not unlike his uncle. Don’t get me wrong, he’s much better than Uncle Andrew, seen clearly in the fact that he is willing to go and rescue Polly, when Uncle Andrew won’t even dream of going himself. But once he finds Polly, rather than getting her safely back home, he bullies her into exploring a different pool.

After coming up with the idea of exploring another world, he loses all sense of caution, and gets angry with Polly for resisting:

“Well even if you can-” began Polly, but Digory went on as if he hadn’t heard her.

Later he makes a fuss, even to agreeing to Polly’s plan to go halfway into their own world before trying another pool. He’s so annoyed about the delay, that he very nearly makes one of the most terrible mistakes of his life, by running off without marking which pool leads to our world. After this, he doesn’t apologise, but becomes all defensive arguing with Polly which leads to a several minute long quarrel between the two.

Once they arrive in Charn, Polly does not like it from the start, but Digory continues to ignore her feelings and cares only to satisfy his own curiosity. When Polly suggests they go home, Digory accuses her of cowardice to convince her into exploring with him.

And then they find the bell. It’s hard to know how much Digory is effected by the magic of the place and how much he is using it as an excuse to indulge his curiosity, but the following lines are telling.

“I expect anyone who’s come as far as this is bound to go on wondering until it sends him dotty. That’s the Magic of it, you see. I can feel it beginning to work on me already.

“Well I don’t, said Polly, crossly. “And I don’t believe you do either. You’re just putting it on.”

To which Digory retorts that she knows nothing ’cause she’s a girl.

Polly replies: “You looked exactly like your uncle when you said that,”

To which he replies: “Why can’t you keep to the point?...what we’re talking is-”

At this moment, Digory does not only look like his uncle, but he sound just like him. Remember Uncle Andrew used very similar phrases to Digory during their conversation about the rings? Whenever Digory brought up Polly’s safety, Uncle Andrew reprimanded him for going off topic, not sticking to “the point”. And yet here Digory does the exact same thing.

Another heated argument ensues between the children, Digory calling Polly a kid and Polly threatening to leave him behind. And then the crucial moment follows:

“None of that!” said Digory in a voice even nastier than he meant it to be [again sounding very much like his uncle]…

I can’t excuse what he did next except by saying he was very sorry for it afterwards (and so were a good many other people)…

He grabs and twists her hand (which hurt her quite a bit) and reaches for the hammer, striking the bell.

In this moment, his growing selfishness and lack of concern for Polly, reaches its climax, and he gives in to the temptation of the bell, which results in a great deal of harm to many people. But that’s well, another story (as a matter of fact a whole series of stories called The Chronicles of Narnia  ;-) ).

Don’t get me wrong, I don’t dislike Digory as a character. And like Edmund and Eustace he grows through his adventures and encounter with Aslan. While he doesn’t understand why Polly wants him to apologise on their return to England, by the end of the book, I’m sure he looks back on what he did and said to her in the Woods and Charn and regrets it very much.

But here I’ve highlighted some of his faults and the way his poor character and attitude led up to the moment where he struck the bell. There’s a thread on the forum about whether he sinned by striking the bell. I’m not sure quite how I feel about that, but if we look at his behaviour and attitude leading up to that moment, it seems that he was already on his way down a selfish path before he ever saw the tempting verse.

The Magician's Nephew: Chapters 1-2

Summer Challenge '13: Questions

One of the most intriguing and endearing things about Lewis’ writing is that he so often throws out random references to things he never elaborates on. Passing references that have little to do with the story, but when you stop to think about them, they point to countless other untold stories or adventures. Stories we catch only that brief passing glimpse of and are given nothing further; tantalising glimpses (in the literal meaning of the word). It is these that can often lead to fan fiction or other types of musings as people try to imagine what story might underlie that briefest glimpse.

There are a number of these in the first couple chapters of The Magicians Nephew. The first is Digory’s past. We learn that before coming to London, Digory lived in the country, in a house with an apparently large property with a river at the bottom of the garden and room for a pony whom he loved. This is all we get of his childhood before moving to London and yet it makes me wonder what amazing stories and adventures the young Digory must have had before his real adventures even began.

And then there’s Polly. Her life is fascinating and yet we get to learn so little about her family and background. It is only in these initial chapters that we get told a tiny bit; especially, the fact that she was a child with a vivid imagination and able to occupy herself during her recreational time most pleasantly. She had built for herself a secret “smugglers cave”; a place of retreat where she kept her treasures, and would retire to to enjoy a quiet bottle of ginger beer and to work on her story. Her story? Now how is that for tantalizing? Wouldn’t you, like Digory, just love to know what it was that she was writing? I wonder if she ever became a more accomplished writer; if in later life, she ever published anything? After her adventures in The Wood between the Worlds, Charn and Narnia itself, can you imagine the creative stories she might have written? I can just see her writing out an imaginary history of Charn.

Another question is about Digory’s dad. We know much about his mother, but very little about his father except that he was called away to India. My first guess is that he was a soldier called to serve in India which was still a British colony in those days. I suppose he also might have been some kind of government official or representative. Wouldn’t you just love to know what adventures he got up to in India? And what stories he must have had to tell his son coming back? I wonder if Digory was ever brave enough to tell his father that he’d been to places even further away than India?

Another mystery I don’t believe is ever solved (unless it is later in the book and I have simply forgotten) is what really lies in the empty house one over from Digorys. After all the build-up in the first chapter, it is a little bit disappointing that we never find out whether the house was haunted, secretly inhabited by someone who only came out at night with a dark lamp, if it was the den of a gang of criminals or if it really just had bad drainage. On the other hand it’s almost like Lewis does this on purpose. By keeping the empty house a mystery it remains appealing. If we knew the truth, it might turn out to be one of the uninteresting explanations grown-ups had and the story would lose some of its charm.

Another mystery is Uncle Andrew and his study. Although we know much about Uncle Andrew’s awful character and motivations, I’m really curious to know how he occupied his days before Digory and Polly stumbled upon his office. What was in all those books? He had a lot of them. We know a little, that he spent a lot of time and effort discovering what was in the box from Atlantis and how to make the rings, but what other tricks and experiments was he up to?

And probably the greatest and most tantalising question of all is who was Mrs Lefay and what in the worlds did Atlantis have to do with it all? I’ve loved the story of Atlantis for a long time, and especially since doing a module on it in one of my university classics courses. But Lewis tells us so very little. How did Atlanteans get dust from the Wood between the Worlds? What did they do with it (they hadn’t made it into rings)? How did it survive the downfall of Atlantis? How did Mrs Lefay get hold of it? How did Uncle Andrew figure out that rings were the way to make the dust work? How did he make the rings? So many questions never answered and left up to our imagination. Oh Lewis!

Mrs Lefay is especially interesting in light of the fact that (as someone years ago on TLC pointed out in a discussion thread) she shares her surname with an enchantress of Arthurian legend, Morgan LeFay. Did Lewis intend a direct connexion? We are told that she had fairy blood in her, and in old British legends the women like Morgan Lefay were associated with the faerie or fair folk (the “fay” part meaning something like “fairy”). Interestingly, in Stephen Lawhead’s Arthurian Pendragon Cycle, he equates refugees who escaped the downfall of Atlantis to Britain with the fair folk of such legends and people such as the Lady of the Lake, Merlin and a character that bears some resemblance to Morgan LeFay are Atlanteans and therefore faerie in his stories. I’m fascinated to know whether this is purely coincidence or whether Lawhead was drawing on a mythology that equated the faerie with Atlantis; a tradition Lewis himself was a acquainted with. I’d like to do some more research into this at some point, to see if there is anything to it. A last question regarding Mrs Lefay. Wouldn’t you love to know what she was imprisoned for?

So there we have it. The story has barely started and already Lewis has posed so many questions by hinting at elements of the story we never get to learn more about. But as I’ve suggested above, this is very much what makes Lewis such a good writer and this such a good book. It is full of mystery and much of the mystery must remain thus to add to the quality of the story. It is up to our imaginations and our unfortunately poorer skill (on my part anyway) to come up with our own answers to these questions and to explore these untold stories in more detail.

The Doctor and Jesus

To many of my friends this will probably seem like a pretty crazy piece. It is pretty absurd, but it combines the two stories that I've been immersed in this week - Doctor Who, and The Life of Jesus as told in the Gospel of Mark. They don't really go together. I don't pretend they do. But having both in my head at the same time meant I couldn't help but make comparisons. Don't worry, I'm not going to say The Doctor is God incarnate or a type of Christ or anything like that. That would just be silly. And probably blasphemous. So...well you can read it if you feel so inclined and see what you think. 

On hearing this, Jesus said to them, “It is not the healthy who need a doctor, but the sick. I have not come to call the righteous, but sinners.” Mark 2:17

It's Doctor Who season. I had never seen an episode of Doctor Who before December last year, but I had a bunch of friends on TLC who used to talk about it all the time. So when I moved to the UK, it was inevitable that I'd get to watching it. Through the course of last year, I managed to watch many of the reruns of the new series on BBC and had seen up to the third episode of the Sixth Series when I went back home. Since the Seventh Series is now showing, I decided on returning to the UK to buy Series Six so I could watch the rest of it. I spent Monday and Tuesday catching up and was then left with a bit of that empty feeling you have when you've finished a good book or movie or TV series and there's no more. In the case of Doctor Who there is more - the currently airing Seventh Series but that means waiting a week for each episode. Which is fine - but it did mean I had a few days to stew over some of the mind-boggling events of the Sixth Series. And it was pretty mind-boggling.

Those who are fans will understand this. Those who haven't watched it or haven't been gripped by it won't. But there's something appealing and endearing about the Doctor and his adventures. Some of them - many of them - are seriously creepy, but his character and the friendships and the relationships he builds and the way he deals with impossible dangers, makes the story rise beyond the creepiness and get into your heart.

I don't know exactly what it is. Maybe it's his love for humanity, loyalty for his companions and the incredible way in which he continually saves the world/universe/individuals whom he cares about. Then there's stuff like his awesome wacky character, his sometimes flippant attitude in the most dangerous situations. Those who are fans, and have been for a long time, can probably express it better than me.

I guess in sum, the Doctor is just a really cool and likeable character and his adventures take you momentarily out of troubles of this world. I'm sure there are many who wish he was really real and envy those who travel with him wishing they too could have such adventures.

Unfortunately he isn't. And neither are his adventures. But there is some pretty awesome stuff going on in the real world that we should not let things like Doctor Who take our eyes off of.

A couple days after finishing Series Six, with all these things still in my head, I found myself trying to break free of the fantasy world and back to the reality that is analysing Greek texts for my thesis. Struggling to get back into the Greek, I had a sudden inspiration to read some of the New Testament (i.e. texts I know really well) in Greek. I have an interlinear Greek Bible (which means it has English translations of words under the Greek words. I know it seems like cheating, but for the sake of easing myself in, I felt it would be more beneficial than sitting doing nothing or struggling so much looking every word up that I gave up after a couple pages). I was going to go through Acts, but had a sudden inclination to tackle a Gospel instead. I picked Mark (it's the shortest). I've read Mark many times - studied it three times in about three years at Church/Youth. So I know it pretty well. My intention in reading this was for the sake of the Greek - not to get anything significant out of it. But sometimes God has other plans.

I have the distinct disadvantage of having been brought up on the Bible from a very young age. There are massive advantages in this too - and I am eternally grateful to my parents for this. But the disadvantage is that the accounts in the Bible are so familiar to me, it's difficult not to take them for granted. The amazing aspects of Jesus' life, the miracles he performed, the message he preached, the way he was treated by his enemies and responded to them, his death and resurrection, are all so well known in my head they often cease to amaze. I believe them to be true (a decision I made) and the truth does not change. But their impact is not usually very great.

One way I've found that helps me overcome my familiarity with the Bible is reading it in different translations. We are lucky in the English speaking world that we have so many different translations and "versions". And while the fundamental message does not change, reading it in different wording often brings to light things you may have ceased to notice in a more familiar version. The Amplified Bible, I think, is particularly good at this (not that it's my favourite translation - I don't even own a copy of it - but from hearing it quoted I think it would be good for this despite it's other faults).

You can probably guess where this is going. Reading Mark in Greek was reading it in a new version for me and, as a result, had the unanticipated effect of bringing the story to life in a new way. I know some people think the New Testament in Greek, since it is the original, must be the purist/most accurate form and are perhaps thinking that it was the fact it was Greek that it brought new meaning. I don't think that's true. Greek is not a super holy language and though there may be aspects of its vocabulary and grammar that bring a clarity of meaning which it is hard to convey in translation, it's by no means a perfect language and suffers from ambiguity as much as the next language. Maybe if my Greek was better it would be different, but the clarity and understanding you get from the Greek bible is only as good as your Greek allows it to be. Anyway, as I was partially relying on the English translated words in the interlinear form, some of the effect was completely lost.

But what did happen is that I read the text more slowly than usual - sometimes having to reread over parts. And I was reading it in unfamiliar terms. And these two things together contributed to the what happened while I was reading.

I wasn't far into the text (Mark makes the story move very quickly) before I was hit with a revelation I know to be true, but needed to be reminded of. With Doctor Who still in my mind, as I read about the amazing authority and power Jesus had in words and actions, and the way people were completely astounded by what he did, I was reminded just what an amazing person Jesus was. I say "was", though he still is amazing, because I'm referring to his human life on Earth. If I thought the Doctor was cool, well Jesus was off the charts.

The Doctor looks human, and often acts human, though he isn't really. He can do things that the humans he interacts with can't and that's one of the things that makes him special. As is his love for humans and our world. Jesus was human. Completely. But he is more than human and comes from beyond and before our world. Although much of his Godly power was veiled while he was on earth, little bits of it seeped through. As we read the Gospels, we see he has power over demons, over sickness, over deafness and blindness, over the elements, over food quantities, even over death. The people he interacts with recognise his unusual power and authority immediately. And the response is either to follow him (in different degrees - many followed him just because they wanted to witness more miracles, while others gave up their way of life to become his companions) or to fear (and try to get rid of) him.

When I read of Jesus' interactions with demons (there are quite a few accounts in Mark), I was put in mind a little of the Doctor's interaction with certain aliens. It doesn't work for all, but there are some to whom he just needs to say his name and they immediately fear him. In this case it's pretty easy for him to tell them to leave Earth alone and go back to wherever they came from.  Of course this doesn't happen all that much, or the stories would be kind of boring. But with Jesus, the demons are so terrified they do exactly what he says. They just see him coming and beg for mercy.

I want to reiterate that these Doctor Who analogies are only coming up because I had them in my head. I'm not in the least inferring that the Doctor is some kind of Christ-figure or supposed to represent him or anything. They are so completely different and the concept of the Doctor was created without any religious connotations anticipated (if anything the complete opposite). But since I had "the Doctor is cool" in my mind when reading about Jesus, it was amazing to be reminded "so was Jesus - in fact he was cooler".

Something that comes out very strongly in Mark is that Jesus is being very careful about his popularity. The reason for this is explained more in the other gospels (I think John in particular): he is following a precise timetable. If he were to become too well known too soon, the plan would be jeopardised. Jesus' mission was to preach about repentance and the Kingdom of Heaven. And to train up his disciples to continue his message and mission after he was gone. Although he performed many miracles, his priority was always to preach. He healed the sick and demon-possessed as they were brought to him out of compassion. And the miracles confirmed to those who watched that he truly had authority from God, but they were secondary. His aim was not to heal physical ills but to heal people's spirits. For that, preaching his message and the culmination of his task (dying for the sins of all humans and rising again) were far more important than giving people temporary physical healing.

Continually, throughout Mark, we see him trying to downplay his miracles. When he cast demons out of people, he would forbid them from shouting out who he was (they recognised him as the Son of God) and he would tell those he healed or who witnessed a healing not to tell anyone else what he had done. This is not more clear than in the passage where he raises Jaris' daughter from the dead and tells those around him that "she's not dead but just sleeping". Only a few are allowed to witness the miracle, since raising someone from the dead is kind of a biggie. In fact the next time he does this - with Lazarus - it's not kept secret. And it pretty much seals his death warrant. 

This playing down his miracles was strategic. If people realised his full power and who he was the two parties (those for and against him) would become too radical too soon. Those who believed in him would want to make him King and use him as a political figure to overthrow the Roman oppression (which they actually tried at one point - he conveniently disappeared at the time). Those who hated him would do everything in their power to make sure that never happened and have him killed (which would be easy for them if he was being advocated as an opponent to Rome's authority). As it was, he only had three years of ministry before things escalated to this point. But three years was enough. Less time would have been a problem.

And I believe that is why he was so protective of people knowing who he was. It's a little bit like the way the Doctor lives a precarious life because of his abilities, becoming easily surrounded by both those who love and practically worship him and those who hate and fear and want to destroy him. In Series 6, this reaches a crux. He becomes too big, so big in fact that a war pretty much breaks out around him. And plans are put in place to remove him from the equation. As this becomes known to him, he realises just how powerful he has become and accepts his fate that he will be killed. Of course, at first he tries to escape it, but in the end, knowing he cannot stop it, he accepts that it will be better for the world if he is no longer there to cause such division. In the end, a series of events spiral into place and it does not end in the way he anticipated. But at least he is off the radar for now and the world can forget about him for a while.

Okay, so Jesus' story is so completely different, and I'll get to that. But I think the way the Doctor realises he is too big and needs to die is a nice illustration of why Jesus didn't want everyone knowing who he was or what he could do too soon. Of course, Jesus story deviates completely at this point. He knew he had to die all along, but the reason was completely different. The very reason he came to earth in the first place and was born a human was so that he could die. His death was a sacrifice. Not for peace in a world aligned or opposed to him. If anything his death caused the opposite, as his new followers were continually persecuted for their faith in him (and the battle between those for and against him has never really ended). His death was the sacrifice for humanity that the punishment for mankind's sins could be taken on one man and mankind could receive forgiveness and redemption and be reunited with the God we forsook at the creation of the world.

The Doctor was prepared to die because he felt it would be better for the world/universe if he wasn't around. Jesus went to die because he knew it would be better for the world if sin were conquered and a way made for man to renew his relationship with God. And a significant difference was that Jesus knew he would rise again. He wasn't getting out of the picture - he was becoming the centre of it. Jesus' death wasn't about dying and ceasing to exist, it was about death (and the spiritual agony of a condemned man being forsaken by God) being the punishment for sin. Death wasn't the end because he was sinless and death could not hold a man punished for sins he did not commit.

The Doctor is such a likeable person and his imagined reality so attractive it's easy to wish it was real. But there was (I believe) a man who lived the most incredible life, had the most incredible power and saved the world in a way the Doctor would not even realise it needed saving. Not everyone believes Jesus is real, or he really did the things the Gospels tell us he did. But I believe them and that makes me so excited. And he loves our world more than the Doctor ever could. And he wants a relationship with each and every one who is willing. He wants us to be his companions and to go on adventures with him that would boggle the imagination of even the writers of Doctor Who.

Not everyone accepts this adventure. Like those the Doctor meets on his travels, some say "No thanks, I like my life, I couldn't travel with you." But for those that accept it, we're stuck on the adventure of a lifetime. And it never ends. No teary goodbyes. No moving on. Just a lifetime and then eternity with him.

We live in a pretty awesome world and serve a pretty awesome God.

The Silver Chair: Chapter 16

The Ending

The last chapters of so many of the Chronicles are so packed with truths and pieces of brilliance, it’s near impossible to comment on them. Like the end of The Voyage of the Dawn Treader and The Last Battle, this chapter reveals so much of what makes Lewis such a brilliant author, I don’t know where to start with the comments: We see the beauty of Narnia for the first time in the book; the sorrow of a son reunited with his father only to lose him again; a return to the splendour of Aslan’s Country; the rejuvenation of the old dead king in a scene that once again comes rather close to allegory; the granting of Caspian’s wish to see our world, for just five minutes; bullies being taught their lesson; a poorly run school being investigated and put right; and social and political comments made on education, feminism (?), leadership and politics. Lewis crams all of this into just one chapter so smoothly and adeptly that we hardly notice the transitions.

I’ve said many times before that Lewis is such a good writer, he’s really hard to paraphrase. It’s better to quote him directly. So below are a few of my favourite quotes from the last chapters (the first from the second last):

…tears came to Jill’s eyes. Their quest had been worth all the pains it cost.

“Puddleglum,” said Jill, “You’re a regular old humbug. You sound as doleful as a funeral and I believe you’re perfectly happy. And you talk as if you were afraid of everything, when you’re really as brave as - as a lion”.
   “Now speaking of funerals,” began Puddleglum, but Jill, who heard the centaurs tapping with their hooves behind her, surprised him very much by flinging her arms around his thin neck and kissing his muddy-looking face, while Eustace wrung his hand…
   The marshwiggle, sinking back on his bed, remarked to himself, “Well I wouldn’t have dreamt of her doing that. Even though I am a good-looking chap.”

“I have come,” said a deep voice behind them…
   And she wanted to say, “I’m sorry,” but she could not speak…
“Think of that no more. I will not always be scolding. You have done the work for which I sent you into Narnia.”

Even the Lion wept: great Lion-tears, each tear more precious than the Earth would be if it was a single solid diamond.

After that, the Head’s friends saw that the Head was no use as a Head, so they got her made an inspector to interfere with other Heads. And when they found she wasn’t much good even at that, they got her into Parliament where she lived happily ever after.

The Silver Chair: Chapter 15

The Great Snow Dance

When first o’ the season’s snow starts to fall
And lies fresh on the ground
We hear the wak’ning winter’s call
Summons us to gather ’round

Fauns with groom’d flanks and hooves that shine
Begin to gallop and prance
While their dearest dryads, leafy hair divine
Glide swiftly in to dance

Dwarfs dressed in their finest gear -
Golden tassels, scarlet hoods
Join th’ mythic creatures once a year
In a clearing in the snowy woods

And so begins the Great Snow Dance
Intricate weavings, practised moves
Music sweet, but with eerie stance
Guides floral feet and caprine hooves

And the dwarfs stand forming a secondary ring
Tossing spheres of compact snow
While feet make a drum beat and sweet fiddles sing
In a rhythm neither too fast nor too slow

But lo’ what commotion disturbs our rite?
A voice calling from the hill?
We spot the source, but what a sight!
A girl emerges - her name is “Jill”

She says she needs help, she’s not alone
There’re others trapped as well
So lost and far from kin or home
With such a tale to tell

The dwarfs stop their game, and gather their tools
To rescue those trapped in the mound
The moles join the cause, as though mining for jewels
No match for their skill is the ground

At last they break through, and all is made clear
A wiggle, two horses, a man -
But he’s no mere man, but someone more dear
Can it be? By the Lion, it can!

It’s our Prince who was lost, for so many a year
Our Prince whom we’d giv’n up for dead
He’s returned, yes he has, he really is here
He’s been saved, bless his dear royal head

Though the snow dance was brought to an untimely end
We’ve something far greater to cheer us
Our Prince has returned, yes, we have hope again
And again will our enemies fear us.

But come children dear, be warmed, sup and rest
For your journey was tiring and long
But you’re heroes; we’ll praise you along with the best
Our minstrels shall laud you in song.

The Silver Chair: Chapters 13-14

Things are not always as they seem

This tale is full of mistaken identities and misconceptions. “Pay no attention to appearances” says Aslan to Jill of the signs. And it’s true of more than just the signs.

Right from the outset, things are not always as they seem. When she first meets him, Jill doesn’t trust Aslan. She is afraid of him, for the completely wrong reasons. When she realises who he is and he tells her that he has called them to Narnia, she assumes he has made a mistake - they are not the ones for the task. Mistaken identity. Aslan corrects her.

When she arrives in Narnia at the sailing of the King, Jill asks Eustace if he sees a friend. He doesn’t recognise that he is staring at Caspian because he makes the assumption that he would not look that much older than last time. Mistaken identity.

Eustace suspects the owls of plotting against the king, because they are meeting in dark in the night. Meanwhile they are simply used to meeting at night because they are owls. There is nothing sinister about their dealings. Mistaken identity.

Jill and Eustace are wary of Puddleglum at the beginning because he is so negative. They don’t see that there is sense, faith and dedication lying at the heart of his pessimism - just what they need as a guide. Mistaken identity.

When Jill first sees the giants lining the gorge, she assumes they are simply piles of rock. Until they start to hurl stones around them. Mistaken identity.

When they meet the Lady of the Green Kirtle, they think her kind, sweet and helpful. Mistaken identity.

When they come to the ruined city and the writing, they think it is merely a strange wilderness of ledges, dykes and trenches. Mistaken identity.

When they arrive at Harfang, they think the giants are friendly and that they want to have the children and Puddleglum take part in the autumn feast with them. Not that they will be the main dish at the feast. Mistaken identity.

When the three meet Rilian, they think he is nasty and not to be trusted. They don’t realise he is the one they have come to rescue. Mistaken identity.

When the mudmen come to themselves and realise what spell the witch has had them under, they prepare to fight for their freedom, unaware that the one who had them under their spell is dead. Rather than celebrate, they prepare for war. When they see Rilian and the others on horseback, they prepare to defend themselves against the onslaught by the witch’s people. They haven’t the slightest idea that these people were also subject to her lies and sorcery and that it is they who have killed the witch and freed them from her spell. Mistaken identity.

When the children, Puddleglum and Rillian see the mudmen letting off rockets and marching as to war, they assume that they are their enemy and that the rockets are warnings. They don’t realise it is their way of celebrating their liberation from the spell, and at the same time a taking to arms should the queen or her subjects try to stop them. Mistaken identity.

These last two points, which are the subject of chapters 13 and 14 bring about an almost fatal ending to the story. The earthmen think the heroes are their enemy and the heroes fear the earthmen. Both assume the other group are working for the witch.

Thankfully, the truth comes out quickly and the situation is ratified. Mistaken identities and misconceptions are brought to light, and both sets of people are able to make their way home and leave the cursed shallowlands of the underworld. The heroes head for the overworld, the earthmen for Bism.

There’s a lesson in all this. Things are not always as they seem. We need to be aware of this in faith as in life. Sometimes things look hopeless and as though there is no way out. But there is a bigger picture we can’t see. Just as the heroes and the earthmen did not realise that the other group was equally the enemy of the witch, and so feared them, what might be looking to us like a hopeless situation might just be a small bit of the picture.

I’m sure as the characters looked back on the story afterwards, they realised how they had missed the (sometimes almost obvious) cases of mistaken identity in their adventures. And so we can look back on events in life and realise that what looked like a bad job, was actually for the best.

When Jesus was arrested and crucified, it looked to the disciples as though everything was lost. All their dreams and plans for the Messianic kingdom with Jesus as the ruler were shattered. They couldn’t make sense of it, and feared they had been wrong. Jesus was not the messiah. It was a case of mistaken identity. Mistaken identity, yes, but not in the way they thought. Three days later he rose again. Jesus had a bigger plan at work, a bigger, more important kingdom to win. Once the disciples came to realise this, they could look back and see clearly what God had been doing and knew that what looked like defeat was the greatest victory of all - the victory over sin and death. Things are not always as they seem.

I can testify to this in my own life, when I was distraught last year over thinking I did not have a scholarship to study in Oxford. I couldn’t see any light or make any sense of it. When, after two weeks in this state, the unthinkable happened and I was awarded the scholarship, it seemed like the whole situation had been pointless. Why go through those two weeks of sadness? But as the truth sunk in, I realised all the good that came out of it. I had learnt to surrender to God and grown so much closer to him. I knew I was doing what he wanted me to do. And other girls’ lives were blessed because they were given the scholarship as well as me (something that might not have happened had I been awarded it first time).

Things are not always as they seem. But that’s okay. We have a God who sees the whole picture; who knows what is best. And he is the one who is in control.

The Silver Chair: Chapter 12

Good Old Puddleglum

A lot could be, and has in the past been, said of the witch’s attempt at making our heroes forget Narnia and Aslan, and of Puddleglum’s heroic refusal to be beguiled.

I wrote a while back on the thread: Conquering Lies - Lessons from Narnia

Ajnos wrote:

Another well-known passage where the antagonist tries to trick the heroes with lies it LotGK's speech in which she tries to convince them that Narnia is a figment of our imagination.

"I see...that we should do no better with your lion, as you call it, than we did with your sun. You have seen lamps, and so you imagined a bigger and better lamp and called it the sun. You've seen cats, and now you want a bigger and better cat, and it's to be called a lion. Well, 'tis pretty make-believe, though...it would suit you all better if you were younger. And look at how you put nothing into you make believe world without copying it from the real world of mine, which is the only world...Come, all of you. Put away these childish tricks...There is no Narnia, no Overworld, no sky, no sun, no Aslan..."

This lie, together with her enchanting music and powder almost takes them all in. In a place so far away from the Narnia they remember, they begin to think, that perhaps they did just imagine it. Our enemies try to make us doubt our own beliefs in a similar way. They try to reduce our experiences of God - experiences which we knew were real at the time - to figments of our imagination. They make us wonder whether what we thought was a word from God, was not just wishful thinking, or something we imagined. And when that moment has passed, sometimes we do start to doubt, whether it was real. Human memory is a strange thing, and becomes increasingly unreliable as time passes from when the even occurred. When we find people (or even ourselves) questioning the reality of our experiences, we need to respond like Puddleglum:

"One word, Ma'am... All you've been saying is quite right, I shouldn't wonder. I'm a chap who always liked to know the worst and then put but the best face I can on it. So I won't deny any of what you've said. But there's one more thing to be said, even so. Suppose we have only dreamed, or made up, all those things...Then all I can say is that, in that case, the made up things seem a good deal more important than the real ones... We're just babies making up game, if you're right. But four babies playing a game can make a play-world which licks your real world hollow. That's why I'm going to stand by the play-world. I'm on Aslan's side even if there isn't any Aslan to lead it. I'm going to live as like a Narnian as I can even if there isn't any Narnia."

Good Old Puddleglum!

In my Day Two post on Puddleglum and Paxford, I quoted Douglas Gresham as saying of Fred Paxford, on whom Puddleglum was modelled, “Fred was the ever cheerful eternal pessimist.”

When we first meet Puddleglum, that doesn’t seem like a fully accurate description. Pessimist, yes. Comical, perhaps. But ever-cheerful? Hardly. When he tells us that the other Marshwiggles think he’s quite bouncy and upbeat, we are inclined to disbelieve him. Could they possibly be worse than him?

But as the story goes on, we see what he means. Although Puddleglum always sees the worst side of things and always expects the worst, he is still cheerful despite this. He thinks things will be bad, but then imagines something worse and concludes that actually the bad things aren’t quite as bad as they could be.

Right at the beginning he tells them not to worry about the weather, because they’ll be so distracted by enemies, mountains, rivers, losing their way, almost nothing to eat and sore feet.

Later, when they are trying to find their way across the river gorge (before they spot the bridge) he says, “The bright side of this is, if we break our necks getting down the cliff, then we’re safe from being drowned in the river.”

It is Puddleglum who points out that if they had been paying attention to the signs, Aslan would have shown them away underground. “Aslan’s instructions always work: there are no exceptions”.

This is the first hint we get of his faith. He’s not only a cheerful pessimist. Behind (and despite) his eternal pessimism, he has an unrelenting faith in the supremacy of Aslan. Perhaps part of the reason he can be so gloomy, is that he knows Aslan is in control. He doesn’t even seem to fear death, and occasionally sees it as a better alternative (at least if we break our necks, we needn’t suffer drowning, and later, maybe we should go back to give the giants a feast rather than being lost in the depths of the earth and suffer threat of dragons and other dangers). He knows death isn’t the end.

When they are faced with the dreadful decision of whether to release Rilian or not, his cheerful pessimism comes to play again. He doesn’t sugar coat things by suggesting everything will turn out alright if they obey the sign, but says:

“Aslan didn’t tell Pole what would happen. He only told her what to do. That fellow will be the death of us, I shouldn’t wonder. But that doesn’t let us off following the sign.”

Because of his pessimism, he is able to bear the fact that they might die if they release the prince. But he recognises that Aslan’s orders come from a higher place. Doing right is more important than being safe. Even more important than living. Puddleglum has the heart of a matyr. And in part it is his pessimism that gives him that.

Finally, when it comes to the crunch, his pessimism saves that day. He is aware of the enchantment working on them and sees a way out (extinguishing the fire, the source of the enchantment). He knows it will hurt, but he’s okay with that. Things could and would be worse if he wasn’t willing to face that pain - so he embraces it.

And then in his speech, he expresses the true faith behind his pessimism. His pessimism lets him grant that perhaps the overworld, the sun, and Aslan are all imaginary. Perhaps none of what they seem to remember is true. But there is a worse alternative. That the world underground is all there is. And he will not accept that. He would rather embrace an untrue dream, than suffer the fate of one who has no hope. His hope at this point is fragile - he is full of doubt in what he believes. But he knows he would rather embrace that, and be proved wrong, than live in a world of such dreariness.

Puddleglum’s pessimism lets him see what is bad, and then imagine something worse. By doing this, the bad suddenly becomes bearable. It is this which saves him and his friends.

I’m not saying we should all be Puddleglums. His pessimism is draining, and leads to arguments and the children not always trusting his better judgement. But there is something in his mindset we can imitate. Not full pessimism, but a trust in God that means if we do God’s will, if we trust in him, even bad things will look bright and be bearable in the light of what could be so much worse - a life without him.

The apostle Paul comes close to saying what Puddleglum tells the witch. He acknowledges that she may be right, and they might have imagined Narnia and the sun and Aslan. But he’d rather chance that they be wrong than live without hope. Paul imagines for a second what would be the case if what we believe and what he preached was not true; if Jesus did not die and rise from the dead:

But if there is no resurrection of the dead, then Christ is not risen. And if Christ is not risen, then our preaching is empty and your faith is also empty. Yes, and we are found false witnesses of God, because we have testified of God that He raised up Christ, whom He did not raise up—if in fact the dead do not rise. For if the dead do not rise, then Christ is not risen. And if Christ is not risen, your faith is futile; you are still in your sins! Then also those who have fallen asleep in Christ have perished. If in this life only we have hope in Christ, we are of all men the most pitiable. 1 Cor 15: 13-19

As Puddleglum and his friends soon learn - they were right. Their faith is rewarded because it turns out to be real. They find Narnia and see the sun and Aslan again. Their hope was not in vain. Paul, who had seen the risen saviour, knows the same is true of what we believe.

But now Christ is risen from the dead, and has become the firstfruits of those who have fallen asleep. 1 Cor 15: 12-19

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