Easily one of my favorite parts of The Great Divorce was when the man with the whispering iguana on his shoulder is transformed into a Bright One and a mighty Stallion, both of which are wonderfully Solid. But as much as I like it, it's also so new and hard for me to grasp.
So let's be honest: I, as an imperfect, sinful, fallen young man, struggle with lust. I think it's something we would all shuffle our feet and quietly admit to under direct questioning. Lust is a horrible, nasty thing that poisons the soul and corrupts the mind. It weakens the Armor of God from the inside out. The only way to get rid of it is to let Someone else take it from you. You can try by yourself, like both the man in this story and Eustace Scrubb, but until you give it up, all you can do is make yourself feel better for a while. And it hurts to give it up. It hurts bad.
My problem is that, in this story, I wanted the Bright One to grab that stupid lizard, hurl it to the ground, stomp on it a couple times, maybe give it a good punt, and then watch as it popped out of existence. But no, it turned into a friggin sweet golden Stallion.
It blows my mind, but I guess it's true that God can turn our "poor, weak, whimpering, whispering" lust into the "richness and energy of desire which will arise when lust has been killed." Guess I'll just have to keep trying to wrap my mind around that idea...
Wonderful.
Sunday, November 30, 2008
In or Ex
"There is but one good; that is God. Everything else is good when it looks to Him and bad when it turns from Him. And the higher and mightier it is in the natural order, the more demonic it will be if it rebels" (Lewis 106).
This part of the paragraph caught my attention because this passage is a point Lewis has been making all along through this book and even in The Lion, The Witch and The Waredrobe. Our ambitions, goals, activities and what have you are good when our eyes are focused on God. These things become evil or bad when our eyes turn away from God and look toward ourselves. The same point was made in LWW with the character (I forget his name) who worshiped Tash but in the end, was really doing good for Aslan.
What I have been puzzled with lately goes back to our dicussions about inclusivism and exclusivism. In the case of LWW, Lewis seems to be an advocate for inclusivism, saying that this character that did not know Aslan can still be "saved" because he still did good. But with the above passage, I feel like Lewis is supporting exclusivism. With exclusivism, we have to believe and belong to the only good, God. In the above passage, it says good is only done or reached when you see God. With inclusivism, you don't need to belong to the only good, God. You just have to do good.
Correct me if I am wrong. As I am sure I have said before, this stuff confusses me. But where does Lewis stand? Or is that really important? I think it is. What do you think?
This part of the paragraph caught my attention because this passage is a point Lewis has been making all along through this book and even in The Lion, The Witch and The Waredrobe. Our ambitions, goals, activities and what have you are good when our eyes are focused on God. These things become evil or bad when our eyes turn away from God and look toward ourselves. The same point was made in LWW with the character (I forget his name) who worshiped Tash but in the end, was really doing good for Aslan.
What I have been puzzled with lately goes back to our dicussions about inclusivism and exclusivism. In the case of LWW, Lewis seems to be an advocate for inclusivism, saying that this character that did not know Aslan can still be "saved" because he still did good. But with the above passage, I feel like Lewis is supporting exclusivism. With exclusivism, we have to believe and belong to the only good, God. In the above passage, it says good is only done or reached when you see God. With inclusivism, you don't need to belong to the only good, God. You just have to do good.
Correct me if I am wrong. As I am sure I have said before, this stuff confusses me. But where does Lewis stand? Or is that really important? I think it is. What do you think?
Saturday, November 29, 2008
The Dwarf and The Lady
I am intrigued by the discussion among the Lady, the Dwarf Ghost, and the Tragedian in chapters 12 and 13 of The Great Divorce. Both the Lady and the Dwarf/Tragedian's sides are amazing and enlightening to me.
Initially the Dwarf seems reasonable and really concerned for the Lady's welfare. A paraphrase: "Oh I'm so sad that you felt bad about what you did to me. All is forgiven and I really just want you to be happy." Then the Lady accepts his forgiveness and asks him to no longer feel worried about her.
Then the question that unravels it all: "You missed me?" the Dwarf asks. We see through the rest of the conversation that the Dwarf doesn't really want the Lady to be happy; he's not really thinking about her at all. He wants to be wanted, needed, loved--but only on his terms, in which he has all the power. This is the picture Lewis paints of a hell-bound soul that was the hardest--that hit home--the most for me.
The Dwarf is a picture of what I've often seen in people and what I've often caught myself doing: blackmailing others by their pity, as Lewis calls it. The thing that scares me about this is that its so deceptive. The Dwarf seems to use all the right words at times: "We have to face this", "What do you know about love?", "Don't break in on your sheltered, self-centered little heaven". He speaks with authority, like he's really just a counselor trying to help them both through a tough situation. Yet his intentions are so wrong, but does he even realize that's what he's doing? And when the Lady tells him what he's doing, he refuses to accept it.
The thing that amazed me about the Lady was that she was not taken in by his blackmailing. She recognized it for what it was; I don't know if I would be able to recognize that in another person. She did not feel like it was her duty to break her own heart over his self-created wretchedness. She trusted God enough to not let her joy be shaken. She refused to give in to him. She says, "Did you think joy was created to live always under that threat? Always defenceless against those who would rather be miserable than have their self-will crossed?" (132). She completely saw through his devices and freely accepted the love and joy offered by Christ, without reservation, without thinking that she's too undeserving to be in Love.
How often do I, consciously or unconsciously, use pity to manipulate others? How often do I let people who strip me of joy and peace in Christ--pricking my conscious unnecessarily or making room for compromise--manipulate me because they refuse to be comforted, they want to be wretched? Can I be bold enough to protect Christ in me from a person like the Dwarf? (Does that sentence even make sense?)
As MacDonald says, "Ye must distinguish. The action of Pity will live for ever: but the passion of Pity will not. The passion of Pity, the Pity we merely suffer, the ache that draws men to concede what should not be conceded and to flatter when they shoud speak truth, the pity that has cheated many a woman out of her virginity and many a statesman out of his honesty--that will die. It was used as a weapon by bad men against good ones: their weapon will be broken" (136).
Initially the Dwarf seems reasonable and really concerned for the Lady's welfare. A paraphrase: "Oh I'm so sad that you felt bad about what you did to me. All is forgiven and I really just want you to be happy." Then the Lady accepts his forgiveness and asks him to no longer feel worried about her.
Then the question that unravels it all: "You missed me?" the Dwarf asks. We see through the rest of the conversation that the Dwarf doesn't really want the Lady to be happy; he's not really thinking about her at all. He wants to be wanted, needed, loved--but only on his terms, in which he has all the power. This is the picture Lewis paints of a hell-bound soul that was the hardest--that hit home--the most for me.
The Dwarf is a picture of what I've often seen in people and what I've often caught myself doing: blackmailing others by their pity, as Lewis calls it. The thing that scares me about this is that its so deceptive. The Dwarf seems to use all the right words at times: "We have to face this", "What do you know about love?", "Don't break in on your sheltered, self-centered little heaven". He speaks with authority, like he's really just a counselor trying to help them both through a tough situation. Yet his intentions are so wrong, but does he even realize that's what he's doing? And when the Lady tells him what he's doing, he refuses to accept it.
The thing that amazed me about the Lady was that she was not taken in by his blackmailing. She recognized it for what it was; I don't know if I would be able to recognize that in another person. She did not feel like it was her duty to break her own heart over his self-created wretchedness. She trusted God enough to not let her joy be shaken. She refused to give in to him. She says, "Did you think joy was created to live always under that threat? Always defenceless against those who would rather be miserable than have their self-will crossed?" (132). She completely saw through his devices and freely accepted the love and joy offered by Christ, without reservation, without thinking that she's too undeserving to be in Love.
How often do I, consciously or unconsciously, use pity to manipulate others? How often do I let people who strip me of joy and peace in Christ--pricking my conscious unnecessarily or making room for compromise--manipulate me because they refuse to be comforted, they want to be wretched? Can I be bold enough to protect Christ in me from a person like the Dwarf? (Does that sentence even make sense?)
As MacDonald says, "Ye must distinguish. The action of Pity will live for ever: but the passion of Pity will not. The passion of Pity, the Pity we merely suffer, the ache that draws men to concede what should not be conceded and to flatter when they shoud speak truth, the pity that has cheated many a woman out of her virginity and many a statesman out of his honesty--that will die. It was used as a weapon by bad men against good ones: their weapon will be broken" (136).
Why does Hell exist? Lewis' answer
After finishing “The Great Divorce,” I kept thinking that Hell seems to be a topic close to Lewis’ heart, meaning that Lewis has a passion for thinking about why Hell exists in a world full of mercy in which God sent his son to descent into Hell and paid the ultimate price for human sins. Because of this passion, images are portrayed throughout certain books written by Lewis and an Inkling to offer a picture of why it still exists if the price for human sins has already been paid. Here is a little bit of my thinking process:
One piece of the image comes from Lewis in the Problem of Pain in which he states that there are some evil wills inside men that do not want to change. “ You will remember that in the parable, the saved go to a place made for them, while the damned go to a place never made for them at all,” (PP 127)…“What is cast (or casts itself) into Hell is not a man; it is remains,” (PP 128). These ideas seem to suggest that because humans have free will, they can choose to reject the gift God is offering all human beings. As a result, humans cast themselves into Hell.
Another piece of the image comes from The Last Battle in which Lewis writes about dwarfs huddled together in an open, lush green place. However, although they can hear Lucy and the other characters speaking to them, the dwarfs still believe that they are stuck in the dark stable. They cannot smell the fresh items offered to them, they think manure is being shoved in their face. “The Dwarfs are for the Dwarfs” is a phrase they keep repeating. All this suggests that they are living for themselves; they are stuck in their own minds and that is their Hell according to Lewis. “Heaven” is there all around them if only they would reject their thinking but they will not.
Yet another piece of the puzzle comes from Descent into Hell, especially the character Wentworth. This character revealed that even though humans cast themselves into Hell because they will not reject their ways, there may still be windows of opportunity to turn back. However, there is a point of no return. All of this was shown through Wentworth’s decisions: first to not be happy for his friend about the knighthood. Then about not being able to spend time with Adela and soon he became more and more wrapped up in his mind even though there were opportunities to escape until the day he was asked to come and make sure the uniforms were made correctly. “He looked, and he swung, as if on his rope, as if at a point of decision—to go on or to climb up,” (DH 144) but as he walked around the guard and gave the answer Mrs. Parry wanted to hear, “His future was secure, both proximate and ultimate,” (DH 145).
A forth (and final?) image is noted in A Great Divorce reflects Lewis’ idea that going to Hell is becoming less human because it was not a place made for man. “A damned soul is nearly nothing: it is shrunk, shut up in itself…Their fists are clenched, their teeth are clenched, their eyes fast shut” (GD 139). They are merely ghost images that have no real existence.
One piece of the image comes from Lewis in the Problem of Pain in which he states that there are some evil wills inside men that do not want to change. “ You will remember that in the parable, the saved go to a place made for them, while the damned go to a place never made for them at all,” (PP 127)…“What is cast (or casts itself) into Hell is not a man; it is remains,” (PP 128). These ideas seem to suggest that because humans have free will, they can choose to reject the gift God is offering all human beings. As a result, humans cast themselves into Hell.
Another piece of the image comes from The Last Battle in which Lewis writes about dwarfs huddled together in an open, lush green place. However, although they can hear Lucy and the other characters speaking to them, the dwarfs still believe that they are stuck in the dark stable. They cannot smell the fresh items offered to them, they think manure is being shoved in their face. “The Dwarfs are for the Dwarfs” is a phrase they keep repeating. All this suggests that they are living for themselves; they are stuck in their own minds and that is their Hell according to Lewis. “Heaven” is there all around them if only they would reject their thinking but they will not.
Yet another piece of the puzzle comes from Descent into Hell, especially the character Wentworth. This character revealed that even though humans cast themselves into Hell because they will not reject their ways, there may still be windows of opportunity to turn back. However, there is a point of no return. All of this was shown through Wentworth’s decisions: first to not be happy for his friend about the knighthood. Then about not being able to spend time with Adela and soon he became more and more wrapped up in his mind even though there were opportunities to escape until the day he was asked to come and make sure the uniforms were made correctly. “He looked, and he swung, as if on his rope, as if at a point of decision—to go on or to climb up,” (DH 144) but as he walked around the guard and gave the answer Mrs. Parry wanted to hear, “His future was secure, both proximate and ultimate,” (DH 145).
A forth (and final?) image is noted in A Great Divorce reflects Lewis’ idea that going to Hell is becoming less human because it was not a place made for man. “A damned soul is nearly nothing: it is shrunk, shut up in itself…Their fists are clenched, their teeth are clenched, their eyes fast shut” (GD 139). They are merely ghost images that have no real existence.
God in the Great Divorce
When I think of heaven and hell my thoughts often are directed to God and Satan. Throughout the novel The Great Divorce readers are never introduced to a physical God character or a physical Devil. I think it is interesting that Lewis did this. We see glimpses of God through the spirits’ joy and their wisdom. They often mention God and each aspect of him is positive. I guess my first thought was: you can not write a book about heaven and hell and not include these two key leaders. Each new chapter I waited for some form of light or some deep voice, known as God to be introduced. But then I realized they are incredibly included, in fact they are what the book is filled with. I couldn’t help but thinking that the power moving the chess pieces represented God; that God is the one who anticipated the choices that would be made by different people (pg.144). We don’t meet God per say, yet how could Lewis explain God when he is so beyond our understanding. I think if he would have tried to physically explain God it would have taken away from the message of the book. The book is different than so many things I have been told about life after death, good different. Lewis does mention to the narrator through George Macdonald that what he has experienced is simply a dream and that he will not and should not try to fully explain or even comprehend what he heard and saw, because it is so much deeper. So I am glad the book is just the way it is. Yet I still wonder where in this ‘heaven’ God is; is He what the spirits are journeying into the mountains to see, or is he is journeying with them? And if Lewis would have introduced God as a character who looked a certain way and spoke, what would He have been like?
Friday, November 28, 2008
A Good Hurt
As I was reading the conversation between the Ghost with the lizard on his shoulder and the Angel, I wasn't reading it as exactly that type of conversation. I found myself reading it more as a conversation between myself (or any other sinner) and God.
I imagine the lizard as a personification of sin - choose any sin you like. We carry it around with us and listen to its whisperings in our ear, choosing to let it convince us of things that we normally would not be convinced of. God wants to take that sin from us and make us into a new creation. But he can only do that if the sin that we have been clinging to is "killed" - and this can't be done against our will.
The conversation turns almost comical if you read it from the viewpoint I was reading it from. Here is an Angel simply wanting to free us from something that we have said it could free us from - and then when we realize that it is going to hurt us, we chicken out and start talking in circles.
"I never said it wouldn't hurt you. I said it wouldn't kill you." Doesn't this sound like just the thing you would expect God to say? Releasing our sin hurts. But here is one of those paradoxes: it is a good hurt. It hurts initially, but in the long run? It's one of the best choices you could have made.
"I cannot kill it against your will. It is impossible. Have I your permission?" God needs our full cooperation to transform us into the person He meant for us to be. After receiving this permission, look at how the Ghost turned out! By accepting the fact that he would have to be hurt in order to live a better life, he allows the Angel to crush the lizard. We read that the Ghost "gave a scream of agony such as was never heard on Earth." Keep reading and we see that the Ghost is transformed into an Angel himself, and the lizard into a great stallion.
"I never said it wouldn't hurt you. I said it wouldn't kill you." God doesn't promise that it will be easy. God promises eternal life in exchange for a little Earthly discomfort.
I imagine the lizard as a personification of sin - choose any sin you like. We carry it around with us and listen to its whisperings in our ear, choosing to let it convince us of things that we normally would not be convinced of. God wants to take that sin from us and make us into a new creation. But he can only do that if the sin that we have been clinging to is "killed" - and this can't be done against our will.
The conversation turns almost comical if you read it from the viewpoint I was reading it from. Here is an Angel simply wanting to free us from something that we have said it could free us from - and then when we realize that it is going to hurt us, we chicken out and start talking in circles.
"I never said it wouldn't hurt you. I said it wouldn't kill you." Doesn't this sound like just the thing you would expect God to say? Releasing our sin hurts. But here is one of those paradoxes: it is a good hurt. It hurts initially, but in the long run? It's one of the best choices you could have made.
"I cannot kill it against your will. It is impossible. Have I your permission?" God needs our full cooperation to transform us into the person He meant for us to be. After receiving this permission, look at how the Ghost turned out! By accepting the fact that he would have to be hurt in order to live a better life, he allows the Angel to crush the lizard. We read that the Ghost "gave a scream of agony such as was never heard on Earth." Keep reading and we see that the Ghost is transformed into an Angel himself, and the lizard into a great stallion.
"I never said it wouldn't hurt you. I said it wouldn't kill you." God doesn't promise that it will be easy. God promises eternal life in exchange for a little Earthly discomfort.
Last Chapter: Great Divorce
When I was reading the last chapter of The Great Divorce a few things caught my eye. The first one was how similar the dream/vision of the dreaming narrator is to the men in the Bible who experienced visions of Heaven ). "Then vertigo and terror seized me" (PG. 143). John and Daniel had very similar responses to their visions/dreams. I also thought it was interesting how the Teacher instructs the narrator to explain to people that it was a dream so that he wouldn't be a fool who claimed to know what no mortal knows. I noticed how the men in the Bible also make a point to explain that what they saw was not from them but from a higher knowledge who gave this knowledge to man through dreams and visions. In the chapter the Teacher says that God has forbid that anyone claim this knowledge for themselves and I remember that Angel commanded John and Daniel to seal up their visions. I know these examples might sound simple but I thought they had a strong connection to some characters of the Bible and I couldnt help but wonder if Lewis used these men as examples from which to write this chapter?
I also appreciated the description that Lewis gave for this place. The trees grew bright, birds are singing, there was music of hounds and horns, sound of music from ten thousand tongues of men and woodland angels. It sounds quite merry! I imagine someplace better than earth being like that. I also felt like the language Lewis used to describe this places sounded Tolkienish...woodland angels=woodland elves? Maybe? Trees being alive?
I was also caught by the line "he too must once have known that no people find each other more absurd than lovers". I would have to say thats probably very true. The more you are intimate with someone the more they find out your little quirks the more absurd things get. I thought it was funny and also connected with what Lewis was saying about it being able to joke about sex and things like that.
I also appreciated the description that Lewis gave for this place. The trees grew bright, birds are singing, there was music of hounds and horns, sound of music from ten thousand tongues of men and woodland angels. It sounds quite merry! I imagine someplace better than earth being like that. I also felt like the language Lewis used to describe this places sounded Tolkienish...woodland angels=woodland elves? Maybe? Trees being alive?
I was also caught by the line "he too must once have known that no people find each other more absurd than lovers". I would have to say thats probably very true. The more you are intimate with someone the more they find out your little quirks the more absurd things get. I thought it was funny and also connected with what Lewis was saying about it being able to joke about sex and things like that.
Thursday, November 27, 2008
A little late in arriving...
So this post is a touch behind schedule..but here goes.
I've been reading some posts about Need Love vs Gift Love and how it interacts with our relationship to God.
Here's my two cents:
I think with God, we have both Need Love and Gift Love for him. We are created to love him-it is intrinsic. Our soul longs for Him, whether or not we know it. It is only when we know we are loving Him that we are truly satisfied. (Like Orual was not satisfied unless she could love Psyche) On the other hand, I agree with Laura, we also have Gift Love for God. We die to ourselves to serve Him and his Kingdom.We find satisfaction in giving of ourselves to love and serve God. It's been interesting to watch Lewis weave the two ideas of Gift love and Need love into his work.
I've been reading some posts about Need Love vs Gift Love and how it interacts with our relationship to God.
Here's my two cents:
I think with God, we have both Need Love and Gift Love for him. We are created to love him-it is intrinsic. Our soul longs for Him, whether or not we know it. It is only when we know we are loving Him that we are truly satisfied. (Like Orual was not satisfied unless she could love Psyche) On the other hand, I agree with Laura, we also have Gift Love for God. We die to ourselves to serve Him and his Kingdom.We find satisfaction in giving of ourselves to love and serve God. It's been interesting to watch Lewis weave the two ideas of Gift love and Need love into his work.
Wednesday, November 26, 2008
Heavenly Distinctions
The conversation with the painter in The Great Divorce about distinction intrigued me:
The Spirit explains to the painter, “‘But they aren’t distinguished—no more than anyone else. Don’t you understand? The Glory flows into everyone, and back from everyone: like light and mirrors. But the light’s the thing.’”
“‘Do you mean there are no famous men?’”
“‘They are all famous. They are all known, remembered, recognised by the only Mind that can give a perfect judgement.’”
What confuses me about this explanation is a later encounter with the Lady who is followed by a procession. The Teacher explains, “‘She is one of the great ones. Ye have heard that fame in this country and fame on Earth are two quite different things.’”
The two messages seem to be in conflict with one another. If everyone is famous, how can the Lady be recognized by others as being ‘one of the great ones’? It is not that everything that we accomplish in our earthly lives will fall away as if it never existed or occurred, but that only God shall remember. Heaven is not another Earth in the understanding that we live the same way. Rather, to become solid the Ghosts must move beyond their initial desires and wants in order to realize that it is only through God’s Love that joy comes. Love for God must come before all other things—even just a seed to begin the process. Fame should not matter. But then what does Lewis mean by distinguishing the Lady as one of the great ones?
I can only guess that because we are reading from the view of a Ghost who is not dead—only dreaming—that the lens we read through is earthly. Distinctions are noticed and pointed out because of the narrator’s own viewpoint. Lewis chose such a narrator in order to illustrate his purpose clearer. After all, if we read the novel from a Spirit’s view, the novel would be drastically different. I do not think these two are necessarily in complete conflict, but only seem to be so; however, I cannot explain any further.
The Spirit explains to the painter, “‘But they aren’t distinguished—no more than anyone else. Don’t you understand? The Glory flows into everyone, and back from everyone: like light and mirrors. But the light’s the thing.’”
“‘Do you mean there are no famous men?’”
“‘They are all famous. They are all known, remembered, recognised by the only Mind that can give a perfect judgement.’”
What confuses me about this explanation is a later encounter with the Lady who is followed by a procession. The Teacher explains, “‘She is one of the great ones. Ye have heard that fame in this country and fame on Earth are two quite different things.’”
The two messages seem to be in conflict with one another. If everyone is famous, how can the Lady be recognized by others as being ‘one of the great ones’? It is not that everything that we accomplish in our earthly lives will fall away as if it never existed or occurred, but that only God shall remember. Heaven is not another Earth in the understanding that we live the same way. Rather, to become solid the Ghosts must move beyond their initial desires and wants in order to realize that it is only through God’s Love that joy comes. Love for God must come before all other things—even just a seed to begin the process. Fame should not matter. But then what does Lewis mean by distinguishing the Lady as one of the great ones?
I can only guess that because we are reading from the view of a Ghost who is not dead—only dreaming—that the lens we read through is earthly. Distinctions are noticed and pointed out because of the narrator’s own viewpoint. Lewis chose such a narrator in order to illustrate his purpose clearer. After all, if we read the novel from a Spirit’s view, the novel would be drastically different. I do not think these two are necessarily in complete conflict, but only seem to be so; however, I cannot explain any further.
Wednesday, November 19, 2008
Lonely...I'm Mr. Lonely...
Half jokingly (no, more than half) I've uttered the phrase "You're going to hell," to which a friend has responded "Well, I'll be among friends."
The difference between eternity in heaven and eternity in hell is drastically different depending on who you ask. Some see heaven as a bunch of people floating around on clouds, reuniting with other godly people, playing harps, wearing white robes and glowing in the heaven light. In contrast to this, hell is a dark party where people indulge their sinful desires, smoking, drinking and partaking of sexual pleasure by flaming red light. Though the flaws in both perceptions are numerous, I think the greatest fault in this perspective is the similar community that heaven and hell share.
Williams and Lewis, I believe, would argue that hell is by no means a place where one is "among friends." Rather it is a place we choose for ourselves that we might be by ourselves, and only on realizing this desire do we discover how much we detest it. Consider Lawrence Wentworth, a man whose desire to possess and be loved by Adela drives him deeper and deeper into self-deception. He pities himself and begins to loathe the woman he loved. His descent into hell is essentially a descent into himself, a withdrawing from society and reality that he might be with and love himself in his own mind and imagination. Yet even this is not love. "A man cannot love himself; he can only idolize it, and over the idol delightfully tyrannize--without purpose."
Wentworth denies all chances of coming back into community with others. He is driven by a desire to avoid others, to withdraw, to attempt to find pleasure in his imagined beloved. In the end even this vision leaves him. When the reader leaves Wentworth he is in the depths of hell, by himself without rope or moon to save him.
Is this not a more accurate depiction of the kind of hell we fear most? One in which we are cut off from community, separated from the love of God (even if we have only experienced it in the imperfect human version)? I would argue that anyone who really chooses hell is unaware of all they are losing. Hell is the utter absence of God. If we experience pain, loneliness and despair on this earth where God is present, how much more would we suffer in a hell where he is not? Perhaps threatening unbelievers with the flames of a hell filled with the sinful and unclean is not only ineffective, but dreadfully inaccurate.
The difference between eternity in heaven and eternity in hell is drastically different depending on who you ask. Some see heaven as a bunch of people floating around on clouds, reuniting with other godly people, playing harps, wearing white robes and glowing in the heaven light. In contrast to this, hell is a dark party where people indulge their sinful desires, smoking, drinking and partaking of sexual pleasure by flaming red light. Though the flaws in both perceptions are numerous, I think the greatest fault in this perspective is the similar community that heaven and hell share.
Williams and Lewis, I believe, would argue that hell is by no means a place where one is "among friends." Rather it is a place we choose for ourselves that we might be by ourselves, and only on realizing this desire do we discover how much we detest it. Consider Lawrence Wentworth, a man whose desire to possess and be loved by Adela drives him deeper and deeper into self-deception. He pities himself and begins to loathe the woman he loved. His descent into hell is essentially a descent into himself, a withdrawing from society and reality that he might be with and love himself in his own mind and imagination. Yet even this is not love. "A man cannot love himself; he can only idolize it, and over the idol delightfully tyrannize--without purpose."
Wentworth denies all chances of coming back into community with others. He is driven by a desire to avoid others, to withdraw, to attempt to find pleasure in his imagined beloved. In the end even this vision leaves him. When the reader leaves Wentworth he is in the depths of hell, by himself without rope or moon to save him.
Is this not a more accurate depiction of the kind of hell we fear most? One in which we are cut off from community, separated from the love of God (even if we have only experienced it in the imperfect human version)? I would argue that anyone who really chooses hell is unaware of all they are losing. Hell is the utter absence of God. If we experience pain, loneliness and despair on this earth where God is present, how much more would we suffer in a hell where he is not? Perhaps threatening unbelievers with the flames of a hell filled with the sinful and unclean is not only ineffective, but dreadfully inaccurate.
Sunday, November 16, 2008
Introspection = death?
On pages 67-8 of Descent Into Hell, a curious idea (at least to me) is presented. Williams talks about how the people on the Hill are close to the dead. He says, "If...the spirit of a man at death saw truly what he was and had been, so that whether he desired it or not a lucid power of intelligence all himself to him..." (67). It seems to me, as this discussion continues, that Williams says that humans aren't really afraid of dying itself as much as they fear the knowledge of oneself that occurs after death. They don't want the dead to bother them and tell them all that they try to hide or decieve themselves about. Later, Williams says, "Hysteria of self-knowledge, monotony of self-analysis, introspection spreading like disease, what was all this but the infection communicated over the unpurified borders of death?" (68).
So, I suppose my real question is, do people really hide and/or deceive themselves so much that they are deathly (pun intended) afraid to face who they really are? Could this have something to do with Pauline's fear of running into herself?
So, I suppose my real question is, do people really hide and/or deceive themselves so much that they are deathly (pun intended) afraid to face who they really are? Could this have something to do with Pauline's fear of running into herself?
Orual and Us
In "Until We Have faces" I thought that Orual reminded me a little more of the Brute, or at least a combination of him and Unget. This mostly happens because of the comparison that I drew from the comparison in the second book when Orual is talking to Bardia's wife about Bardia's death. She accuses her of being like the brute and says, "They say the loving and the devouring are the same thing" She also talks about how much she loved her husband and how selfesh Orual was to take him away from her. Orual's selfishness with Bardia caused his wife so much pain. This sort of reminded me of when Orual showed her selfishness before with Psyche, Oruals selfishness of Psyche was what ended up causing her so much strife. And the interesting part here is that Orual called this all love. All of her selfish actions were acts of love to her.
Are humans capable of real perfect love, or does every thing that we call love have a small motive behind it, usually a selfish one? Are we like Orual and when we think we are sacrificing something, but we are really just doing it for ourselves? When we give to charity, is it because we truly are concerend about others or is it to get the good feeling inside? When two people are in love is it selfless, or do we love people to get something out of it? These are questions that this story brought up to me and made me look at my relationships. Lets see what you folks think.
Are humans capable of real perfect love, or does every thing that we call love have a small motive behind it, usually a selfish one? Are we like Orual and when we think we are sacrificing something, but we are really just doing it for ourselves? When we give to charity, is it because we truly are concerend about others or is it to get the good feeling inside? When two people are in love is it selfless, or do we love people to get something out of it? These are questions that this story brought up to me and made me look at my relationships. Lets see what you folks think.
Saturday, November 15, 2008
Substitution....
I must admit that I have always been a little perplexed at the idea of carrying each other’s burdens. I have assumed that when we are directed to not worry about tomorrow and lay our burdens on Christ it is to clear away worldly distractions and stresses. This though does not seem to fit with Galatians 6:2 and Charles’ Williams interpretation of it. Or maybe it does, and I am just unaware of this.
I do not mean to seem harsh in saying I do not understand why we carry each other’s burdens. I realize that it is important to enter into a person’s suffering and come alongside them, etc…but, isn’t it arrogant to think that we can be a substitution for their burdens? For instance, as we discussed in class, when Stanhope takes on the burden of Pauline, what is it that he actually does? Merely imagining what it is like to be in her situation is kind and empathetic but, I don’t think would actually free her from her fear. And any instance in which Stanhope then actually bears the full burden of her fear and problem for her seems to be placing him within the same realm as Christ. So what does Stanhope’s actions really do except give Pauline a temporary and imagined sense of security?
Alright, enough ranting. I think my main point here is that there needs to be a distinction between bearing each others burdens and bearing with someone in love. It is impossible for any human being to act as a substitution for another human being - if that were so, there really would not be a need for Christ’s sacrifice on the cross (as that is the true substitution). However, we are called to be in community and bear each other’s burdens in love. I think an example of what I am getting at could be the body metaphor used by Paul. If the hand of the body gets injured the arm may not be able to be a substitution for it - the arm may not become the hand. However, it may offer tremendous and irreplaceable support for the hand that, without which, the hand may not have been able to properly heal. It can bear with the hand but it can not bear for the hand.
I do not mean to seem harsh in saying I do not understand why we carry each other’s burdens. I realize that it is important to enter into a person’s suffering and come alongside them, etc…but, isn’t it arrogant to think that we can be a substitution for their burdens? For instance, as we discussed in class, when Stanhope takes on the burden of Pauline, what is it that he actually does? Merely imagining what it is like to be in her situation is kind and empathetic but, I don’t think would actually free her from her fear. And any instance in which Stanhope then actually bears the full burden of her fear and problem for her seems to be placing him within the same realm as Christ. So what does Stanhope’s actions really do except give Pauline a temporary and imagined sense of security?
Alright, enough ranting. I think my main point here is that there needs to be a distinction between bearing each others burdens and bearing with someone in love. It is impossible for any human being to act as a substitution for another human being - if that were so, there really would not be a need for Christ’s sacrifice on the cross (as that is the true substitution). However, we are called to be in community and bear each other’s burdens in love. I think an example of what I am getting at could be the body metaphor used by Paul. If the hand of the body gets injured the arm may not be able to be a substitution for it - the arm may not become the hand. However, it may offer tremendous and irreplaceable support for the hand that, without which, the hand may not have been able to properly heal. It can bear with the hand but it can not bear for the hand.
Rejoice with those who rejoice
One instance in Descent Into Hell that I tried to make sense of, is when Wentworth reads in the paper that Aston Moffatt has been knighted. "Wentworth knew he could share that pleasure... with a perfectly clear, if instantaneous, knowledge of what he did, he rejected joy instead. He instantaneously preferred anger, and at once it came; he invoked envy and it obliged him" (80). This situation reminded me of the command found in Ramns 15:12 which says, "rejoice with those who rejoice, mourn with those who mourn." How many of us actually conciously do this? When I rejoice in the sucesses of those around me, it is because I honestly and naturally feel happy for them inside, not because I analyze the situation and make the decision to be happy along with them. At least I don't think so. But Wentworth's situation gives the idea that it is a concious choice. As a fellow historian, he certainly had reason to rejoice in this accomplishment, if not for Moffatt personally, at least he could at least rejoice in the honor paid to the field of history. However, he chooses envy instead. He could have chosen to focus on the joy, but he didnt. I wonder: am I missing out on joy because I don't deliberately look for reasons to rejoice with others? Or is Williams wrong to turn something spiritual and emotional like joy into an alternative to be chosen through logic and (instantaneous) deliberation?
Reality is Real Confusing.
Lewis' Till We Have Faces and Williams' Descent into Hell have revealed a common limitation in my mind: I constrict reality. As Orual ponders her questionable state of consciousness, she suggests that "the only difference" between a dream and "what men call real . . . is that what many see we call a real thing, and what only one sees we call a dream. But things that many see may have no taste or moment in them at all, and things that are shown only to one may be spears and water-spouts of truth" (277). This assertion regarding reality compelled me to examine my convictions about what I consider to be "real."
My previous conception of reality was limited to historically verifiable happenings - the sort Orual mentions as "what men call real" (277) conventionally. If I were to define reality, I would say that all "real" happenings are anything that a human experiences. After thinking this over, I began to realize that my mental definition of reality and my conception of that reality seemed to differ. A dream is most assuredly a human experience; either my definition or my ideal was wrong. I concluded - hopefully rightly - that any extrasensory experience should be included in a functional definition of reality, as Orual proposes. Simply because a reality cannot be defended by history does not mean that the comminication of truth through experience is absent.
My previous conception of reality was limited to historically verifiable happenings - the sort Orual mentions as "what men call real" (277) conventionally. If I were to define reality, I would say that all "real" happenings are anything that a human experiences. After thinking this over, I began to realize that my mental definition of reality and my conception of that reality seemed to differ. A dream is most assuredly a human experience; either my definition or my ideal was wrong. I concluded - hopefully rightly - that any extrasensory experience should be included in a functional definition of reality, as Orual proposes. Simply because a reality cannot be defended by history does not mean that the comminication of truth through experience is absent.
Friday, November 14, 2008
The Doctrine of Substituted Love
I have seen the salvation of my God...
I wonder at the possibility of taking someone's fears. I have only one question, and it is simple: Did he actually take her fears away? I mean, no one can magically strip you of your fears and don them themselves, can they? Ok, my deepest, darkest secret is that I'm mortally afraid of ants. Creep me out to an infinite degree. Can someone take it away from me?
I think it's more than "magical." I think it's mental.
In the book, Stanhope holds Pauline and convinces, convinces her that she isn't afraid anymore. And surprise surprise, she suddenly isn't. I think her fear was in her head. Just like mine. But now that I know it, could you still take it away from me?
I wonder at the possibility of taking someone's fears. I have only one question, and it is simple: Did he actually take her fears away? I mean, no one can magically strip you of your fears and don them themselves, can they? Ok, my deepest, darkest secret is that I'm mortally afraid of ants. Creep me out to an infinite degree. Can someone take it away from me?
I think it's more than "magical." I think it's mental.
In the book, Stanhope holds Pauline and convinces, convinces her that she isn't afraid anymore. And surprise surprise, she suddenly isn't. I think her fear was in her head. Just like mine. But now that I know it, could you still take it away from me?
Even if I do not totally follow the book, I really enjoy reading Descent Into Hell. And my favorite character is Lawrence Wentworth. He is such an extreme character and very different than me. After reading about him, we all understand that he only likes what he wants to be true and hates reality. That is such a dangerous thing! You become contained in your own world rejecting whats going on in reality. And when that happens, isn't that the "hell" we descend to? Locked inside ourselves? Wentworth has choices of how he can react, how he can participate in reality, and what truths he accepts, but he doesn't.
Maybe society today isn't so ready to say they hate reality, but we so often disregard what we read in the paper or see on TV and go on living life like it isn't there. Or after arguing with a close friend, there are issues that need to be resolved, but you just act like its water under the bridge. Are we all falling or descending into hell and not knowing it? At this point, I don't think Wentworth realizes it. Do we?
We have to die to ourselves. Only believing what YOU want, is not dying to yourself. It's saying, "I'll do what I want." I think we have to accept reality for what it is, not trying to alter it for our current benefit or to make us feel better.
Maybe society today isn't so ready to say they hate reality, but we so often disregard what we read in the paper or see on TV and go on living life like it isn't there. Or after arguing with a close friend, there are issues that need to be resolved, but you just act like its water under the bridge. Are we all falling or descending into hell and not knowing it? At this point, I don't think Wentworth realizes it. Do we?
We have to die to ourselves. Only believing what YOU want, is not dying to yourself. It's saying, "I'll do what I want." I think we have to accept reality for what it is, not trying to alter it for our current benefit or to make us feel better.
Almost Like Looking in a Mirror
When I was reading about Orule, I couldn’t help but think of how selfish she was being with Psyche. Since it was written from Oruel’s point of view she expressed it as loving, but it didn’t seem that way to me. That is also probably how it was intended for readers to take it. Orule being selfish and not knowing it seemed how her story should be taken. When you start getting closer to the end of the book you find out more of Orule’s selfishness with the Fox and Bardia. Reading all this really made me think. Orule could be a reflection of us. Now we may not have done some of the things that she did to the extent that she did them, but we may often do actions that we justify as being loving or caring. In reality these actions are no less selfish than Orule’s. I thought that it may be quite likely that all of us have a little bit more in common with Orule than we would care to admit.
Orual's Love?
Now we all know from reading the book, how ugly Orual was, but i find that her jealousy and her hate toward psyche, make her even more ugly. So can you been ugly in Faith, are you living a life that is beautiful or ugly. Can you if not chosen by God even be beautiful for that matter, or do you have to stay ugly forever, and can be be ugly for a bit and the come to be beautiful. I believe that it was Orual seething hate that made her truly ugly, and it was what ultimately led to her death "Long did I hate you. Long did I fear you. I might—" maybe she was sayign she might be beautiful if she did not hate or fear loving?
Williams’ Co-Inherence, Paul’s Admonition, and Christ’s Teaching
As I’ve begun to descend into the cauldron of perplexity that is Charles Williams, I have been intrigued by his notions of co-inherence. Descent into Hell leaves me with the sense that I will best be able to say something intelligent about the text if I wait until a few more pieces of the story come together. Still, Williams’ notions of co-inherence and substitution are profoundly illustrated by the story, and as our class discussion today indicated, we are somewhat baffled by this idea of “sharing each other’s burdens.”
What are we to make of this notion, particularly in light of Biblical teaching? If there were any doubt in the position of this idea within Scripture, Paul unequivocally clarifies the matter in Galatians 6:2: “Carry each other’s burdens, and in this way you will fulfill the law of Christ.” In this way we will fulfill the law of Christ? Paul states “carry” as an imperative command, making this idea of shared burdens seem like a non-negotiable. Incidentally, this idea of shared burdens is first set by Christ, who commands us to “cast [our] burden upon Him.” In turn, Christ’s promise is to “sustain” us. If we are commanded to imitate Christ, it would seem that obedience to Christ includes following his example in this instance, as well. Though Williams closely threads co-inherence with substitution, Christ’s example suggests not so much a trading of burdens as a mutual sustaining beneath burdens. While the distinction may seem minute, I think it important.
Despite the Christological model and Pauline admonishment to carry each other’s burdens, Western society places all burdens on the shoulders of the individual. As a result of this individualist mindset, the ability to handle burdens independently is seen as something to be praised. Ironically, this way of thinking flies in the face of Christ’s command. Though it seems a sign of strength to forgo help and a marker of selflessness to not burden another with one’s own baggage, a greater indication of strength and humility is in revealing need. If anything, Williams’ complex dealing with the notions of co-inherence and substitution challenge us to re-examine our thinking and to see more clearly how we realize – or fail to realize – the teaching of Christ.
What are we to make of this notion, particularly in light of Biblical teaching? If there were any doubt in the position of this idea within Scripture, Paul unequivocally clarifies the matter in Galatians 6:2: “Carry each other’s burdens, and in this way you will fulfill the law of Christ.” In this way we will fulfill the law of Christ? Paul states “carry” as an imperative command, making this idea of shared burdens seem like a non-negotiable. Incidentally, this idea of shared burdens is first set by Christ, who commands us to “cast [our] burden upon Him.” In turn, Christ’s promise is to “sustain” us. If we are commanded to imitate Christ, it would seem that obedience to Christ includes following his example in this instance, as well. Though Williams closely threads co-inherence with substitution, Christ’s example suggests not so much a trading of burdens as a mutual sustaining beneath burdens. While the distinction may seem minute, I think it important.
Despite the Christological model and Pauline admonishment to carry each other’s burdens, Western society places all burdens on the shoulders of the individual. As a result of this individualist mindset, the ability to handle burdens independently is seen as something to be praised. Ironically, this way of thinking flies in the face of Christ’s command. Though it seems a sign of strength to forgo help and a marker of selflessness to not burden another with one’s own baggage, a greater indication of strength and humility is in revealing need. If anything, Williams’ complex dealing with the notions of co-inherence and substitution challenge us to re-examine our thinking and to see more clearly how we realize – or fail to realize – the teaching of Christ.
Orual, Psyche, me, God
We have been talking about need love for a while now in class, and what I‘ve been wrestling with is, is my love for God need love?
I feel as though I need God to love me. I need God to feel as though I am important and special to God. (Mind you that because God is really big I am more then comfortable with sharing, because there is enough God love to go around I’m sure.)
Throughout my life I have been told that I should define myself by God and God’s love. So if I have accomplished this then aren’t I much like Orual with God as my Psyche? And is it not that love that almost destroyed Orual and Psyche?
But is it ok because I am more then willing to share God with everyone else? Unlike Orual to Cupid? Is it ok because God is big enough to fill all my needs? Or were all the people who told me to define myself by God’s love wrong? Should I define myself by whom I am? (Not that I know who I am anymore without God.) So should I separate myself from God and then give gift love to Him?
My only conclusion, I don’t know.
I feel as though I need God to love me. I need God to feel as though I am important and special to God. (Mind you that because God is really big I am more then comfortable with sharing, because there is enough God love to go around I’m sure.)
Throughout my life I have been told that I should define myself by God and God’s love. So if I have accomplished this then aren’t I much like Orual with God as my Psyche? And is it not that love that almost destroyed Orual and Psyche?
But is it ok because I am more then willing to share God with everyone else? Unlike Orual to Cupid? Is it ok because God is big enough to fill all my needs? Or were all the people who told me to define myself by God’s love wrong? Should I define myself by whom I am? (Not that I know who I am anymore without God.) So should I separate myself from God and then give gift love to Him?
My only conclusion, I don’t know.
Williams and Community
The reading for today dealt with two separate storylines: Stanhope bears Pauline's fear and Wentworth fabricates a world all his own. There are other small moments that happen as well: Margaret Anstruther communicates salvation to a man long dead and Lily offers Pauline happiness without responsibility to others.
Relationships. Community. This theme carries throughout this book.
We already discussed how Pauline and Stanhope discuss the nature of bearing one another's burdens. Whatever Williams is actually recommending we do for each other, this is a much greater, stronger thing than what we usually consider it to be. Beyond the action itself, bearing someone else's burdens necessitates that we ourselves must come to rely on others to bear our burdens.
Rather than open up oneself to the judgment and gossip of others, however, Lily proposes a much cleaner, opposite path: self-reliance. By ignoring others and their needs, Lily suggests that one can be entirely content.
Wentworth walks this path. Rather than engage in what little relationship he has with the actual Adella Hunt, his mind creates its own Adella. Wentworth rejects the actual world, the actual Battle Hill, the actual Adella, all for his own version of reality. Wentworth bars himself from all community, all relationship by creating his own fictional society.
Williams's views on co-inherence bleed through this theme. Sharing burdens necessitates an interchange of vulnerability between people. Rejecting community for a personal version of reality is safer, perhaps, but the ultimate truth is that this existence is hell. Williams's narrative makes it aboundingly clear that we were meant to live life together.
Naked
As Orual is brought before the gods and given her book she is unveiled and undressed before the judge and others present. She states that “Hands came from behind me and tore of my veil…naked before countless gazers…no thread to cover me…” pg.289. I love the picture that C.S. paints here. He is showing that Orual has hidden so much of herself and must come clean before the judges. She is rid of her veil, a symbol of her new identity as queen and her distance from Orual. So Lewis uses a naked woman to symbolize an undisguised, genuinely authentic woman. She no longer has anything to hide behind. When I read this I was reminded of The Four Loves where Lewis addresses nakedness. There he says that we are not our true selves when naked (pg.104). The way I see this is that possibly Lewis is saying that humans are more themselves when clothed because they choose to cloth themselves the way they want. Maybe Lewis would say that Orual was more herself when clothed but that she needed to be brought back to what she truly was by being unveiled and naked. Yet I still wonder if these two ideas of nakedness in The Four Loves and Till We Have Faces are a little bit contradictory?
Solution Anyone?
How can they (i.e. the gods) meet us face to face till we have faces? The idea was that a human being must become real before it can expect to receive any message from the superhuman; that is, it must be speaking with its own voice (not one of its borrowed voices), expressing its actual desires (not what it imagines that it desires), being for good or ill itself, not any mask, veil, or persona.--CS Lewis
I think Lewis brings up a great point here...and all throughout his book. So often people, including myself, wonder why God is not clearly communicating his will for us and directing our path. With this new knowledge, it is clear to see that people are often not who they are, they are lacking a face...and a voice. Perhaps this is because they are not open to being real? Or is it because they prefer to borrow someone else's voice?
Why do we as human beings feel the need to talk constantly, but without words? I do agree with Lewis when he writes (in the form of Fox), " Why should they hear the babble we think we mean?". It's true. Why would God want to listen to people talk nonsense about things they know nothing about?
So the solution is this: find your face and your voice. I have a feeling this is easier said than done. Perhaps with the knowledge of the veil, we will be able to remove it...perhaps not. It was only when Orual said what had laid hidden in her soul that she truly said what she meant. How do we come to the point that we release what we have kept hidden? Perhaps we should ask God for guidance...but are we really saying what we mean???
I think Lewis brings up a great point here...and all throughout his book. So often people, including myself, wonder why God is not clearly communicating his will for us and directing our path. With this new knowledge, it is clear to see that people are often not who they are, they are lacking a face...and a voice. Perhaps this is because they are not open to being real? Or is it because they prefer to borrow someone else's voice?
Why do we as human beings feel the need to talk constantly, but without words? I do agree with Lewis when he writes (in the form of Fox), " Why should they hear the babble we think we mean?". It's true. Why would God want to listen to people talk nonsense about things they know nothing about?
So the solution is this: find your face and your voice. I have a feeling this is easier said than done. Perhaps with the knowledge of the veil, we will be able to remove it...perhaps not. It was only when Orual said what had laid hidden in her soul that she truly said what she meant. How do we come to the point that we release what we have kept hidden? Perhaps we should ask God for guidance...but are we really saying what we mean???
My White Rope
I am still wondering just what this white rope mean in the book, and why does Mr. Wentworth choose to climb down it and not up. I think that Mr. Wentworth is holding on to the only thing that he has to look forward to in life or the only thing that he has loved ever "Adela", and that the reason he chooses to climb down it is that in his mind he is going to die sooner than later, so it makes no sense to climb up, when he perfectly know that he should slowly climb down till his death. I liked how he said that maybe the rope is climbing up, so he is just fighting to stay there, i guess, trying his best to stay alive, and fight for that little chance of happiness with Adela, that one first and final shot at love.
Thursday, November 13, 2008
Signs of Lewis' Teachings
In thinking about Orual, my mind kept thinking back to something in LWW so here's my attempt at dusting off some former thoughts in my brain to make connections to our more recent reading:
In two of Lewis’ works, there is the idea that signs of supernatural occurrences happen in the “real” world. Yet, humans have a hard time explaining these signs. The first case occurs in LWW when Lucy finds Narnia and everyone accuses her of lying. The second case is found in Till We Have Faces when Pysch is trying to convince Orual that her palace existed. In both cases, the signs were revealed more clearly to one party and, initially, just as Peter and Susan jumped to the conclusion that Lucy is mad and telling lies, Orual also believed that Psych had gone mad.
Both cases have evidence that their accused is being truthful. In the first example with Peter and Susan we all know they end up seeing Narnia for themselves. The second example with Orual comes after she denies that Psych’s palace exists but then, later in the night, if only for a moment, she notes, “When I lifted my head and looked once more into the mist across the water…There stood the palace, grey…but solid and motionless,” (Faces:132).
However, the accusers in both stories still doubted the signs and they did not know how to deal with them for in the words of Peter (and the suggested thoughts of Orual), “if things are real, they’re there all the time,” but both cases end with the professor’s question: “Are they?” (LWW 52).
Peter’s question to the professor and Orual’s accusation against the gods were logical for in their physical worlds for if something exists, it exists constantly in some form (because it can be neither created nor destroyed). In the minds of Peter, Susan and Orual, reasonable logic (as the professor pointed out) should have been enough evidence that the person they accused was in their right mind because both Psych and Lucy looked as though they were sane and both had a history of telling the truth. Yet, they were still accused of seeing something false.
These two cases seem to reveal two ideas; one is that if humans are to use logic, they must apply it to the human component of the story, meaning the person telling about the supernatural thing to help decide whether to believe the sign or not. Second, worldly logic does not seem to be enough to satisfy the accusers’ accusations, which suggests that humans cannot use their worldly logic or reason to explain the supernatural things they hear about. As a result, I’ve come to think that the message Lewis wants to portray in his books is that people must first check the source of the information to help them determine of the sign is real. Once, they determined that the sign could be real, is that it is not the human job to explain the signs; the signs are given to aid the human understanding of something that seems beyond their grasp, something behind our physical logic. Signs heard of are occur for a reason and time is the only answer for to gain understanding.
A hazardous waste spill?.....Psych(e)!
While reading this novel, I can see why Lewis stuggled with the recreation of this myth before writing Till We Have Faces. It is an interesting myth that I hadn't read or heard of before, and Lewis succeeds in writing a complex story with it. I followed the story up until the end, where I started to confuse reality with Orual's visions. The only conclusion I've really drawn is that to Orual, her visions are reality, but to everyone else they are just visions. And what about the whole loving/eating thing? I see what Amanda is saying about the two both fulfilling needs and all that, but I still have a hard time putting them on the same level. And Orual, is she really loving Psyche? She thinks she is, but love isn't about getting your own way, its about seeing the other person happy. Psyche was happy, but Orual was selfish and ruined it for her. Orual didn't exactly lead the most joyful life after that, and she got what was coming for her in the end anyway. And I'm also curious as to why Lewis changed the myth by having only one sister instead of two, and how Orual convinced her to use the lamp. I feel like this post is all over, just a bunch of my ramblings, but I hope it could be followed somehow. I guess I just still have some questions about the book, and now we've moved on to an even more complex book. Great...
Wednesday, November 12, 2008
Why the Change, Lewis?
I'm posting on a question I had once I read the actual myth in the back of Lewis' Till We Have Faces: A Myth Retold. In the true myth, according to Lewis' own synopsis, Psyche had both sisters come to her after she married Cupid. But that's not the difference that really makes me wonder. I wonder why Lewis changed the method of convincing Psyche to use the lamp that night. In the myth, the two sisters are overwhelmed with their jealousy and they convince Psyche to use the lamp because they knew it would destroy her happiness. In Lewis' version, Orual seems to have selfish motives (she wants Psyche back with her, to agree with her, to need her), but she's also seemingly convinced that her intentions are for Psyche's benefit. So I guess my question is two-fold.
One: do you think the accounts are different, or is Orual actually acting to destroy Psyche's happiness for her own sake, and...
Two: if they are different, why do you think Lewis changed it? Or even if you think they're the same, why did Lewis make his account so much more complex? I think even if you argue that Orual really understands what's going on, but she's deceiving herself to justify what she's doing, that's still far more complicated than the original myth that just states how the sisters behave selfishly.
I can't decide how I feel about the first question, whether or not Lewis is changing the motive or not, because I keep going back and forth on whether Orual really does know what's happening but she's just deceiving herself to justify acting in her own best interest. However, I think regardless of the answer to that question, Lewis is definitely making the situation more complicated. And I think one reason may be so that Orual can be more relateable, more understandable, more sympathetic to our own experiences and feelings. We can easily put ourselves in that situation and feel justified making either decision. Whereas, in a situation where we only act out of selfish intentions, it would be much harder, if not impossible, to justify ourselves acting that way.
This is getting long, and I think I've made my questions clear, so I'll leave you at that. Let me know what you all think!
One: do you think the accounts are different, or is Orual actually acting to destroy Psyche's happiness for her own sake, and...
Two: if they are different, why do you think Lewis changed it? Or even if you think they're the same, why did Lewis make his account so much more complex? I think even if you argue that Orual really understands what's going on, but she's deceiving herself to justify what she's doing, that's still far more complicated than the original myth that just states how the sisters behave selfishly.
I can't decide how I feel about the first question, whether or not Lewis is changing the motive or not, because I keep going back and forth on whether Orual really does know what's happening but she's just deceiving herself to justify acting in her own best interest. However, I think regardless of the answer to that question, Lewis is definitely making the situation more complicated. And I think one reason may be so that Orual can be more relateable, more understandable, more sympathetic to our own experiences and feelings. We can easily put ourselves in that situation and feel justified making either decision. Whereas, in a situation where we only act out of selfish intentions, it would be much harder, if not impossible, to justify ourselves acting that way.
This is getting long, and I think I've made my questions clear, so I'll leave you at that. Let me know what you all think!
Orual as Ungit
“Without a question it was true. It was I who was Ungit. That ruinous face was mine. I was that Batta-thing, that all-devouring womblike, yet barren, thing. Glome was a web—I the swollen spider, squat at its center, gorged with men’s stolen lives” (276). In Till We Have Faces, Lewis writes how Orual realizes that she herself is Ungit—but what does this mean? How she can be both Orual and Ungit—a mortal and a god?
In Orual’s vision, she is climbing down farther and farther until her father takes her to a mirror and she sees the face of Ungit reflected back at her. This action of going deeper and deeper into the earth parallels the journey Psyche must make into the Underworld to acquire beauty for Ungit. We are told countless times of Orual’s ugliness but now we know that in this way she matches Ungit. But it is not simply external appearances that match Ungit and Orual together.
Orual, like Ungit, is extremely jealous of Psyche’s beauty; however, while this is explicit in Psyche’s relationship with Ungit, her relation to Orual is more complicated. Orual loves Psyche, but it is a twisted love, a jealous love. She wants to keep Psyche for herself. As long as Orual holds Psyche’s complete love (in Orual’s mind), she is also holding part of Psyche’s beauty. Or, as long as Orual has someone she feels is completely devoted to her and loves her exclusively, Orual does not feel the sting of her ugliness. It is only after Psyche has been punished to wandering and is fully separated from her that Orual decides to veil herself, both physically with a piece of cloth and mentally with a new persona—the Queen.
It is Orual’s vision that finally forces her to realize her likeness to Ungit—a god that she despises. She does not wish to be like Ungit and resolves to cease such an existence. Orual will no longer devour those around her—sucking dry their lives in her search for intense, unswerving love. Thus, she begins her transformation. But what it took for her to do so was an epiphany that her love was based on jealousy, resentment of the person she loved—an ugly, distorted love.
In Orual’s vision, she is climbing down farther and farther until her father takes her to a mirror and she sees the face of Ungit reflected back at her. This action of going deeper and deeper into the earth parallels the journey Psyche must make into the Underworld to acquire beauty for Ungit. We are told countless times of Orual’s ugliness but now we know that in this way she matches Ungit. But it is not simply external appearances that match Ungit and Orual together.
Orual, like Ungit, is extremely jealous of Psyche’s beauty; however, while this is explicit in Psyche’s relationship with Ungit, her relation to Orual is more complicated. Orual loves Psyche, but it is a twisted love, a jealous love. She wants to keep Psyche for herself. As long as Orual holds Psyche’s complete love (in Orual’s mind), she is also holding part of Psyche’s beauty. Or, as long as Orual has someone she feels is completely devoted to her and loves her exclusively, Orual does not feel the sting of her ugliness. It is only after Psyche has been punished to wandering and is fully separated from her that Orual decides to veil herself, both physically with a piece of cloth and mentally with a new persona—the Queen.
It is Orual’s vision that finally forces her to realize her likeness to Ungit—a god that she despises. She does not wish to be like Ungit and resolves to cease such an existence. Orual will no longer devour those around her—sucking dry their lives in her search for intense, unswerving love. Thus, she begins her transformation. But what it took for her to do so was an epiphany that her love was based on jealousy, resentment of the person she loved—an ugly, distorted love.
Monday, November 10, 2008
All consuming love
To eat and to love, are they really all that different? This is a question posed several times in Till We Have Faces; from the sacrifice of Psyche to the Shadowbrute, to Orual's possessiveness of her sister, to the Queen's demands on the time and strength of both Bardia and the Fox. It goes against all the warm fuzzy feelings I associate with love to think of it as akin to the act of devouring. And yet, I must admit it is not that different to eat and to love.
For when we begin to eat something it is in order to satisfy a physical need, to fill a void, to reach contentment. When I seek to love, or more often to be loved by, someone it also satisfies a need, fills a void, and improves the quality of my life, at least for a time. This is perhaps why Lewis calls it Need-love, for there is no way to really rid oneself of the need. We must either ignore it or satisfy it. But we learn from Orual that true and ultimate satisfaction is unattainable, at least in regards to human lovers. Even when she is surest about another's love for her, she still seeks more. We also learn from Orual that to ignore the need for love is only to repress it, to bury it deeply and to subconsciously continue pursuing it even as you "suck the life" out of your victims. So what are we to do with this need for love?
As I made my way through the novel I cringed each time the ugly and distorted nature of Orual's devouring love was shown. I wanted to stop her, to show her, to guide her. But what would I have her do? What could I say to her that would open her eyes to the distortion of her love? What would someone have to say to me to make me aware of my own distorted affections? Is it really possible to alter your own feelings? I suppose if Orual could have seen her folly at the time she was committing it she may have changed her actions, but could she have truly altered her emotions? Would it have been possible for her to simply stop desiring to be loved? I suppose what I struggle with most is the idea of eliminating, not ignoring but actually destroying, a desire. Even if I see the distortion in my own love, I cannot convince myself that my desire to love or be loved is wrong. If I can I am still at loss for how I ought to rid myself of such a desire. How do you explain to someone who is hungry that it is wrong for them to eat?
For when we begin to eat something it is in order to satisfy a physical need, to fill a void, to reach contentment. When I seek to love, or more often to be loved by, someone it also satisfies a need, fills a void, and improves the quality of my life, at least for a time. This is perhaps why Lewis calls it Need-love, for there is no way to really rid oneself of the need. We must either ignore it or satisfy it. But we learn from Orual that true and ultimate satisfaction is unattainable, at least in regards to human lovers. Even when she is surest about another's love for her, she still seeks more. We also learn from Orual that to ignore the need for love is only to repress it, to bury it deeply and to subconsciously continue pursuing it even as you "suck the life" out of your victims. So what are we to do with this need for love?
As I made my way through the novel I cringed each time the ugly and distorted nature of Orual's devouring love was shown. I wanted to stop her, to show her, to guide her. But what would I have her do? What could I say to her that would open her eyes to the distortion of her love? What would someone have to say to me to make me aware of my own distorted affections? Is it really possible to alter your own feelings? I suppose if Orual could have seen her folly at the time she was committing it she may have changed her actions, but could she have truly altered her emotions? Would it have been possible for her to simply stop desiring to be loved? I suppose what I struggle with most is the idea of eliminating, not ignoring but actually destroying, a desire. Even if I see the distortion in my own love, I cannot convince myself that my desire to love or be loved is wrong. If I can I am still at loss for how I ought to rid myself of such a desire. How do you explain to someone who is hungry that it is wrong for them to eat?
Sunday, November 9, 2008
Till we have understanding...
There is something about "Till We Have Faces" that everyone can relate to. I think Lewis does a great job of not only retelling the tale of Psyche but of capturing the various pains that the human heart can feel. You do not have to be a hideous person to be able to identify with the hurt and confusion that Orual is going through. In the later part of the book when Orual begins to realize that she was mistaken about how she felt towards Psyche and Cupid, I realized that I myself have had some experiences like this. Experiences that have showed me how mistaken and confused I was about a certain thing and that confusion led me to create erroneous beliefs in my head. Its like realizing the motivation behind why you do something for the first time. Where as before you thought something to be a certain way and when you realize what your true motivations were, its a deeply shameful and humbling experience. I wasnt really sure what to think about this book because so much of our material has included christian theology. I have always had a fascination with Greek myth so that motivated me to read this book. I was taken by surprise by how well Lewis captured the pain of the human heart, like I said before. It really helped me to realize that even though we are all different people we are bonded together by our experiences in life. And some of these experiences, however painful or wonderful they may be, there is a common thread about them and this thread helps bring us together. This book was a rewarding read for me in that way!
Monday, November 3, 2008
Why would I want to Suffer?
So all the while that we were in class discussing the problem of pain we kept coming back to this idea that we suffer because God loves us. This idea has stuck with me, but not in a good idea, I’ve been sitting here pondering this, as to why it bugs me. And it finally dawned on me; my problem is that why then would I want God’s love? If we suffer because God loves us, then why would we not want to do anything we could do get God to despise us if God’s love leads to suffering, and God’s unlike of us would lead to us being left alone?
Now some of you may say but God would know, and God would love you only if He knew you weren’t going to curse Him. But this theology that God’s love leads to suffering, I don’t think that uplifts the Christian. I think it is a stumbling block in itself to say this because then if I believe that the suffering is too great, too much for me to handle, then why would I not curse God? This idea from a theological perspective has no value in showing us what God is like or how we should deal with Him. I mean not in any positive way.
Should we when we suffer praise God for His large amounts of love? Should we think that the more we suffer the more we are blessed? How would this idea help to bring us closer to God? And if it does not bring us closer to God, then how does this bring us better understanding of Him? And if it does none of the above then why should we add this to our theology or thoughts toward life or God?
Mind you I do admit that not all truths about life or God bring us closer to Him, but still could be true. Maybe like the virgin birth of Jesus, this doesn’t affect one’s everyday life, but this one is different. This idea of suffering can do harm to one’s relationship with God, because we as humans by our nature hate that which leads us to suffer. So I have decided after pondering this idea, that while it may be true, it contains no Truth, that will bring us closer to God, and so should be not dwelled on, as it can most likely bring us only farther from God, not closer.
Now some of you may say but God would know, and God would love you only if He knew you weren’t going to curse Him. But this theology that God’s love leads to suffering, I don’t think that uplifts the Christian. I think it is a stumbling block in itself to say this because then if I believe that the suffering is too great, too much for me to handle, then why would I not curse God? This idea from a theological perspective has no value in showing us what God is like or how we should deal with Him. I mean not in any positive way.
Should we when we suffer praise God for His large amounts of love? Should we think that the more we suffer the more we are blessed? How would this idea help to bring us closer to God? And if it does not bring us closer to God, then how does this bring us better understanding of Him? And if it does none of the above then why should we add this to our theology or thoughts toward life or God?
Mind you I do admit that not all truths about life or God bring us closer to Him, but still could be true. Maybe like the virgin birth of Jesus, this doesn’t affect one’s everyday life, but this one is different. This idea of suffering can do harm to one’s relationship with God, because we as humans by our nature hate that which leads us to suffer. So I have decided after pondering this idea, that while it may be true, it contains no Truth, that will bring us closer to God, and so should be not dwelled on, as it can most likely bring us only farther from God, not closer.
Sunday, November 2, 2008
Need love or gift love?
Lewis classifies human loves into two types: need love and gift love, and it made me wonder, is our love for God gift love or need love? In a sense, it should be gift love. We die to ourselves to serve God and obey his commands. We accept his love and allow it to transform us. Loving God requires sacrifice-- sacrifice of our earthly nature and sinful desires. In that way, it seems like a gift love. On the other hand, our souls long for relationship with God. As we love God, we receive the hope of his salvation and redemption of our lives. In that sense it is a need love. We can't love God without being blessed in some way, whether it be spiritually or physically. But do we just love God so that we can receive his blessings? Lewis depicts need love as love that is more focused on self than on the object that is being loved. I think we love God because God is worthy of our love. The Bible says we love Him because he first loved us. But we also need God, and while we may strive to give ourselves in selfless devotion to God in honor of Christ's sacrifice for us, we can't deny the fact that we need God and we benefit from loving Him. So maybe you really can't classify our love for God as one type of love or the other.
Saturday, November 1, 2008
Reflections on Charity
I have a confession to make. I discovered a very troubling truth about myself not so long ago that makes me ashamed to even think about. But here it is: I am a very judgmental person. I see someone for the first time, not knowing their name or anything about them, and automatically place them in a category; whether this be based on how they are dressed, how they articulate themselves, who they are around when I first see them - doesn't matter. And if I find something in that first glance that I don't like, I tend to write them off or, if forced to interact with them, to unintentionally treat them differently than I would if I didn't have that judgment about them.
This revelation has forced me to examine how I see the world around me. I came to college this year and told myself, "OK, clean slate. Whatever happened last year doesn't hold any influence this year. Keep your eyes open." And you know what? Some of those people who I had a so-so relationship with last year are becoming close friends this year, simply by my intentionally throwing out any previous biases or stereotypes I had placed on them.
The part in the chapter about Charity that really stuck out to me was this: "But Divine Gift-love in the man enables him to love what is not naturally lovable; lepers, criminals, enemies, morons, the sulky, the superior and the sneering" (p.128). God loved us before we were even born. We have been enveloped in an all-encompassing love since the day we were formed in our mothers' womb. We have been gifted an excess amount of love, and shouldn't hesitate to share that love with everyone around us; there is more than enough of God's love to go around. We don't have time to waste on avoiding someone simply because they don't seem loveable by us.
While I am judgmental, I am also an insufferable optimist. My friends know that when they come to me with complaints that yes, I'll sympathize, but also (much to their annoyance) have a statement that begins with "It could always be worse . . .". I realize that my optimistic attitude directly clashes with my judgmental attitude. How can I say I am an optimist if I can't find something good in everyone rather than focus on first impressions?
I guess the point of all of this was to say that Lewis' thoughts about Charity have caused me to reflect on the fact that I seem to ration out my giving because of ultimately irrelevant reasons. God loved me before I even knew Him - in times when I was completely unloveable by any other standards, He loved me completely. Who am I to withhold my love for others simply because they don't measure up to my standards?
This revelation has forced me to examine how I see the world around me. I came to college this year and told myself, "OK, clean slate. Whatever happened last year doesn't hold any influence this year. Keep your eyes open." And you know what? Some of those people who I had a so-so relationship with last year are becoming close friends this year, simply by my intentionally throwing out any previous biases or stereotypes I had placed on them.
The part in the chapter about Charity that really stuck out to me was this: "But Divine Gift-love in the man enables him to love what is not naturally lovable; lepers, criminals, enemies, morons, the sulky, the superior and the sneering" (p.128). God loved us before we were even born. We have been enveloped in an all-encompassing love since the day we were formed in our mothers' womb. We have been gifted an excess amount of love, and shouldn't hesitate to share that love with everyone around us; there is more than enough of God's love to go around. We don't have time to waste on avoiding someone simply because they don't seem loveable by us.
While I am judgmental, I am also an insufferable optimist. My friends know that when they come to me with complaints that yes, I'll sympathize, but also (much to their annoyance) have a statement that begins with "It could always be worse . . .". I realize that my optimistic attitude directly clashes with my judgmental attitude. How can I say I am an optimist if I can't find something good in everyone rather than focus on first impressions?
I guess the point of all of this was to say that Lewis' thoughts about Charity have caused me to reflect on the fact that I seem to ration out my giving because of ultimately irrelevant reasons. God loved me before I even knew Him - in times when I was completely unloveable by any other standards, He loved me completely. Who am I to withhold my love for others simply because they don't measure up to my standards?
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