Prince Caspian: Faeries and Spiritual Lessons

I’m revisiting the Chronicles of Narnia series after many years, and just finished the second one in the series, Prince Caspian.  When people mention their favorites within The Chronicles of Narnia, they usually mention the first one (The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe), and a few others often get mentioned.  Prince Caspian, sometimes subtitled The Return to Narnia, is usually not in the list of the top favorites.  Indeed, in the reviews at Goodreads, I noted one reviewer’s three star rating, with criticism that Prince Caspian  doesn’t have much action in the story – mainly a lot of travelling and celebrating — and that the book’s only “spiritual lesson” is Aslan’s invisibility and the step of faith they take in following his lead, and then as they follow him they can see him.

I agree, that is one great spiritual lesson, in which Lucy is more spiritually-inclined and sees Aslan, and then realizes that she must follow Aslan, even when the other children (all older than her) don’t believe her — and that she must follow him even if the others won’t go with her.  As referenced above, at the second sighting of Aslan, on Lucy’s insistence, the others do follow after Lucy who follows Aslan — and then gradually the others (first Edmund, then Peter, and lastly Susan and the Dwarf) are able to see Aslan.

Yet even Prince Caspian has many other spiritual lessons, as well as points that might not seem all that significant in our modern / post-modern rationalist world.  Especially near the end, we see several more allusions to biblical truth, including the great scene where Aslan asks Caspian if he thinks he’s ready to be a king — revealing young Caspian’s humble response (rather like the young King Solomon).  Another great scene occurs with Reepicheep and his fellow mice.  When Reepicheep’s friends show their willingness to cut off their own tails (to match Reepicheep’s wound), Aslan responds favorably, in a scene that reminds me of the “faith of a few close friends” that brought their paralyzed friend on a mat down through the roof of a house, in front of Jesus for healing (Mark 2:1-12).

You have great hearts!  Not for the sake of your dignity, Reepicheep, but for the love that is between you and your people, and still more for the kindness your people showed me long ago when you ate away the cords that bound me on the stone table …. you shall have your tail again.

But now to another very intriguing aspect of Prince Caspian:  the historical belief in this world of “faeries” — or as C.S. Lewis referred to them in “The Discarded Image,”  longaevi (“long-livers”): so as to not confuse his readers with a term co-opted by Disney for a very different usage.  Here is a four-part series with interesting information, noting the pre-modern belief, in every culture throughout the world — up until the Enlightenment age — in nature spirits:

• Why Everyone Should Believe in Fairies
• Why Everyone Should Believe in Fairies, Part 2
• Why Everyone Should Believe in Fairies, Part 3
• Why Everyone Should Believe in Fairies, Part 4

These articles mention C.S. Lewis and his belief, as well as writings from J.R.R. Tolkien, but also from the early Church Fathers and one prominent modern-day Orthodox Christian.  As I read these articles, I thought also of Prince Caspian — maybe we 21st century modernists and urban dwellers are like the Telmarines, who rejected belief in the spirits of nature and kept away from Old Narnia.  Interestingly enough, the writer of these articles also mentioned Lewis’ Prince Caspian, in this very connection:

While many other examples could be given from the writings of Lewis, Prince Caspian is another book worth mentioning — the entire story revolves around the reenchantment of Narnia after all of the trees had fallen asleep and the few talking animals and magic creatures left alive had all retreated deep into hiding, following generations of rule by “Enlightened” men who did not believe in foolish superstitions.

A similar idea comes out in Tolkien’s The Two Towers, in the second part of King Theoden’s healing.  After Gandalf has restored Theoden to his right mind, and removed him from Wormtongue’s bewitchment, Theoden has a second startling experience to re-shape his world.  He suddenly finds that the “nursery tales” that he never paid attention to, are quite true, and he observes them, the trees which have been there through the ages:

‘They are the shepherds of the trees,’ answered Gandalf.  ‘Is it so long since you listened to tales by the fireside?  There are children in your land who, out of the twisted threads of story, could pick the answer to your question.  You have seen Ents, O King…. Did you think that the name was given only in idle fancy?  Nay, Theoden, it is otherwise: to them you are but the passing tale; all the years from Eorl the Young to Theoden the Old are of little count to them; and all the deeds of your house but a small matter.’

(Theoden) ‘Out of the shadows of legend I begin a little to understand the marvel of the trees, I think.  I have lived to see strange days.  Long we have tended our beasts and our fields, built our houses, wrought our tools, or ridden away to help in the wars of Minas Tirith.  And that we called the life of Men, the way of the world.  We cared little for what lay beyond the borders of our own land.  Songs we have that tell of these things, but we are forgetting them, teaching them only to children, as a careless custom.  And now the songs have come down among us out of strange places, and walk visible under the Sun.’

As I continue to explore the worlds of Narnia and Middle Earth, along with study of the early church, it is fascinating to find out about the truths and possible truths behind the ancient legends.

I welcome your thoughts here.  What do you think about the faeries, from the points mentioned here in this post, as well as from the linked articles?

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Light that Grows and Increases: The Phial of Galadriel

A year-long weekly devotional I’m reading this year, features selected writings from the Early Church Fathers.  In Ancient Christian Devotional: A Year of Weekly Readings, Lectionary Cycle A (at Amazon, and also at Abe Books here), week 22 has this interesting quote from Bede (known as the Venerable Bede, from early medieval England), in his commentary on 1 Peter:  “He [Jesus] comes to us daily to visit the light which he has given us, in order to tend it and to help it grow. This is why he is called not only the shepherd but also the guardian of our souls.”

Light is one of the Bible’s metaphors, directly referenced by Christ:  I am the light of the world  (John 8:12).  We often think of light as a metaphor for illumination, the light bulb going off in our head “Aha!” moments.  The Bible describes light similarly, referring to Holy Spirit illumination.  And yes, we all know by experience, the small flicker of a candle, and the light that increases and spreads, dispelling darkness.  The sun at its rising just begins to light up the darkness, but soon the dark of night passes, and the sun blazes up at mid-day as it continues its path across the sky.  Psalm 19:4-6   gives such a wonderful description:

In the heavens he has pitched a tent for the sun.
It is like a bridegroom coming from his home; it rejoices like an athlete running a course.
It rises from one end of the heavens and circles to their other end;

Returning to Bede, and the idea of light that God gives us and that He tends it to help it (the light) grow:  I cannot help but be reminded here, of the scene that J.R.R. Tolkien depicts for us near the end of The Two Towers, of Frodo and Sam in Shelob’s Lair.  This gift (among many) of Galadriel — symbolic of grace and special gifts given us by God — mentioned previously in Fellowship of the Ring, takes on great prominence in the tunnel, when the hobbits remember this gift and start to use it in that desperate hour.  For this chapter gives us a taste, a powerful picture in the mind, of the power of God and His workings, how He gives us light and tends it and helps it to grow in our lives.  For Frodo and Sam, like us, have the spiritual gift given, along with the Holy Spirit power (symbolized in the elves of ancient days).  Note that along with the phial itself, both Frodo and Sam are also found here to be speaking in tongues:  words in the elvish language, words they do not know or understand, come from their mouths, along with the power of the light itself.

Similar to sunlight, the phial of Galadriel starts small, then growing to greater light, when Frodo first reaches for it.  Also interesting, in this first scene and later in the chapter, the light’s power and effectiveness varies, either increasing or decreasing in intensity based on the bearer’s experience of hope and strength of will/spirit:

Slowly his hand went to his bosom, and slowly he held aloft the Phial of Galadriel.  For a moment it glimmered, faint as a rising star struggling in heavy earthward mists, and then as its power waxed, and hope grew in Frodo’s mind, it began to burn, and kindled to a silver flame, a minute heart of dazzling light….  The darkness receded from it until it seemed to shine in the centre of a globe of airy crystal, and the hand that held it sparkled with white fire.

As we soon learn, the monster was not immediately deterred.  Soon, Frodo and Sam, horror-stricken, began slowly to back away … Frodo’s hand wavered, and slowly the Phial drooped.  Frodo and Sam momentarily escape, and then the phial serves as a basic light, at the level that we might consider a lantern or flashlight, as they run down the tunnel and then, while Sam holds the phial (rather like a lantern), Frodo has enough light to cut the cords of Shelob’s web for their next escape.

Then in the climactic scene, where Sam the hero shines forth, we observe:   

As if his indomitable spirit had set its potency in motion, the glass blazed suddenly like a white torch in his hand. It flamed like a star that leaping from the firmament sears the dark air with intolerable light.  No such terror out of heaven had ever burned in Shelob’s face before.  The beams of it entered into her wounded head and scored it with unbearable pain, and the dreadful infection of light spread from eye to eye.

These great descriptions, of light, and hope, and beauty abound in Tolkien’s Middle Earth, among the many reasons we so love to visit — and then to return to our world, strengthened and renewed in hope.

 

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