Thoughts for the journey

PrinceOfTheWest

PrinceOfTheWest

Knight of the Stone Table
Royal Guard
Emeritus
The Voyage of the Dawn Treader has long been one of my favorite of the Chronicles. A recent re-reading got me thinking about several aspects that I'd never considered before. Even though Lewis did not write the stories as allegories or even morality tales, it is still worthwhile to examine what his illuminated imagination came up with. I came up with some questions that occurred to me and thought I'd throw them out there for comment.

Again, there are no wrong answers, and no "gotchas" - though I'd encourage you to know your Lewis! We've got some serious scholars reading, so if you have to scurry back to your tattered volume - well, so much the better :D. And if anyone else has thoughts or wants to kick in some questions of their own, that would be great! Here we go:


  • What might explain the upsurge of the slave trade - so alien to Narnian principles - in their province of the Lone Islands? Any thoughts on how that might transfer to our own spiritual and internal life? What kind of man was Gumpas, and what kind of house did he run? Could we all speak of a "Gumpas" within each of us? If so, what can we do to keep him in check?
  • The pool on Deathwater Island had peculiar properties. Once the voyagers discovered it, what character traits emerged with frightening swiftness? What might have caused Caspian to respond as he did? Edmund? What did it take to "shake them out of it"? What clear and immediate lesson were they missing?
  • On Dragon Island, Eustace is described as "Sleeping on a dragon's hoard, with greedy, dragonish thoughts in his heart..." What do you think Lewis meant by "dragonish thoughts"? (hint - if you have a copy of Pilgrim's Regress, look up Book 10 Chapter VIII.) How does the change in Eustace's outward appearance change his relationship with the Dawn Treader crewmates? Is it really that much of a change? Why might Lewis have Aslan finally "un-dragon" Eustace?
  • How 'bout that Reepicheep? What's your verdict: fighter, or lover? He carries his sword everywhere, but does he ever use the edge? Even in circumstances that might seem to warrant it, what does he do? What role does he seem to play in the Dawn Treader's crew? What finally happens to his sword? In our spiritual battle here on earth, do each of us have an equivalent to Reep's sword? What might that be?
  • On Ramandu's Island, Eustace makes the comment, "In our world, a star is a huge ball of flaming gas." Ramandu corrects him, saying, "Even in your world...that is not what a star is, but what it is made of." What lesson do you think the classically trained Lewis was trying to get across here?
  • Near the end of the journey, Caspian assembles the crew to announce he is going to Aslan's country with Reepicheep. Is this a bad goal? Why does the crew correct him? Are their arguments legitimate? Are there times and circumstances in our own life when we may have to turn back from a great, immediate good to return to our mundane duties?
 
PoTW said:
What might explain the upsurge of the slave trade - so alien to Narnian principles - in their province of the Lone Islands?
Click to expand...
Because they were influenced by the Calormenes.
And Lewis meant the Calormenes to be Muslims.
This was a prophecy that dates back to Isaac and Ishmael.
And it relates to the coming end of the world.
Oh, no, wait, I meant to post this over in the politics thread.
Excuse me ... :eek:
Just kidding! Thought I would throw this out there to see if WHB and Johan would jump in and save me from myself! :p
 
inkspot said:
Because they were influenced by the Calormenes.
And Lewis meant the Calormenes to be Muslims.
This was a prophecy that dates back to Isaac and Ishmael.
And it relates to the coming end of the world.
Oh, no, wait, I meant to post this over in the politics thread.
Excuse me ...
Just kidding! Thought I would throw this out there to see if WHB and Johan would jump in and save me from myself!
Click to expand...

I CAN'T BELIEVE YOU JUST SAID THAT!!! :mad: HUMANS ARE RESPONSIBLE FOR THEIR OWN ACTIONS!!! RANT! WHINE! WHINGE! MOAN! COMPLAIN! :mad:

Oh... Politics thread, yeah... :eek:

Sorry, just wanted to save you from yourself... :p
 
Inkspot! You baaaad girl! Here I meant this to be a serious thread, and you're halfway to dufferdom already!

{thump...thump...thump}

Can anyone retrieve this thread from an ignomious end?
 
Sorry, sorry, sorry.

Let me try again, regarding Reepicheep, everyone's favorite. I cannot answer your questions about his sword because I don't have the book right at hand, but I will say this about his character: he is like a saint in our world, someone dirven by spiritual desires that the rest of us can vaguely understand, but wouldn't dream of letting interfere with our enjoyment of life. When someone gets intensely spiritual, we draw away, we may believe what they say is true, but it makes them freaky and uncomfortable to be around.

Everyone loved Reep, but he also got on everyone's nerves. The sailors thought he was fool-hardy in "Adventure of the Dark Island," Caspian found him trying -- at one point he demanded, "Will no one silence that Mouse?!" And they all lived in fear of his charging onto the field of honor at the slightest provocation and getting them into an altercation they couldn't win.

Our saints today, they do crazy stuff in the name of God, and while we can believe they are holy, we don't want them for best friends.
 
PrinceOfTheWest said:
[*] What might explain the upsurge of the slave trade - so alien to Narnian principles - in their province of the Lone Islands? Any thoughts on how that might transfer to our own spiritual and internal life? What kind of man was Gumpas, and what kind of house did he run? Could we all speak of a "Gumpas" within each of us? If so, what can we do to keep him in check?
Click to expand...
I see the incident as a warning - don't be caught off gaurd! The people of the lone islands got greedy in the absence of the king. They grew lazy. Slave trade is an easy way to get money without much work. How do we keep our tendencies to become lazy and greedy in check? Stay active in your relationship with God.

Just so you all know, I'm not saying Caspian represents God in this case. But God can use people to give us a wake up call too.
 
Very insightful, unleavened! As I was pondering your post, especially in light of the Gospel from Mass last week (Matthew 25 - the parable of the talents), I began to see even more in the "Scouring of the Lone Islands" than I had before!

Consider Gumpas - governor of a province, but long out of touch with the mother country. He rules in the King's name, but mostly uses that as a cover for doing what he wants. Maybe he considers his province neglected by the King - after all, it's been a very long time since the King has shown his face - so he starts making decisions that seem wise to him. His province is in close proximity to a wealthy and powerful country which could be a source of prosperity and comfort, at least for him. All he has to do is overlook some of his own country's laws, and vóila! He's making money, as are many of his supporters, and (to some degree) the entire province. Things look good, especially if one makes sure to avoid certain districts of the capital, where distasteful things happen.

But then, unexpectedly, the King in whose name Gumpas rules arrives. He had had warning, had he been willing to heed it (the Dawn Treader sailing by, the clamor in the town). But he didn't, and suddenly the business which had so consumed him has been thrown about the room and he is on his knees before a stern and demanding King whom he has never met. The King is demanding an accounting, but won't listen to all the excuses he has to provide. The King keeps referring back to the ancient laws and customs of the country - those things under which the governorship exists. When Gumpas distances himself from the laws, the King abruptly removes him from his office and installs a steward who will be faithful. Gumpas and his cronies are cast into the outer darkness, where there is wailing and gnashing of teeth. (Or, as Lord Bern puts it so poetically, "The question before us is whether you and the rest of the rabble will leave without a flogging, or with one.")

But then - am I not governor of a province, i.e. my own life? Am I not ruling in the King's name and (supposedly) by His law? Do I not live in proximity to a wealthy, powerful, and seductive kingdom with different laws (the Kingdom of This World?) Has it not been a long time since the King has shown His face? In what ways am I making side deals with the alien kingdom to secure my own postion and comfort? How would I welcome the King if He were to appear in my domains? Would I stand and give Him full access to the "books" of my life? Or would I attempt to brush Him off, hoping He'd go away so I could get back to my business? How right you are, unleavened! We must invite the King in, study His laws with care, and follow them with diligence.
 
The stewardship issue certainly finds overlap in Tolkien. Denethor also insulted Aragorn, who allowed the dynamic of what might be called "divine gravity" to work things out. That gravity catches up with us all. We should pray by His mercy it manifests itself in this life rather than the next.
 
Time for me to grapple with my own questions. Inkspot, that is a very good insight about Reepicheep. I was going to say how he represents the heroic in all of us, the portion of us that is never content to settle for the ordinary. We hear about the conscience (though not enough, I'll warrant) - that part of our makeup that torments us when we do wrong. I'd contend that there is also a "super-conscience", if you will - a call put within us to reach beyond this world. Reep seems to represent that to the otherwise exclusively human crew of the Dawn Treader. He is the first to seek a challenge, to call the others out of their fear and reticence. It is he who challenges the crew to brave the ominous shadow of Dark Island, thus effecting the rescue of Lord Rhoop. Though he seems prickly and martial, ever jealous of his honor, there is no machismo about him. He will set aside matters of honor for the "convenience of a lady", and always accepts the rulings of proper authority. Notice that he never uses the edge of his sword, despite all the dangers and trials they go through! He is the one with the great vision, to come to the very end of the world. Just before attaining it, he casts aside his precious sword without a second thought - "I shall need it no more!"

I'm convinced that we all have such a heroic call within us, and the Enemy knows it. Why else would he spend so much time trying to dull and silence it with nonstop entertainment and distraction? It is in the silent times, the alone times, that we can quiet ourselves enough to hear this voice and respond to it. In my youth, I had plenty of opportunity for solitude, and in those times characters like Tirian, Reepicheep, and Aragorn loomed large in my imagination. I have usually fallen short of those high ideals, but they have always been there, calling me on.

Which brings me back to Inkspot's insight. Are not the great saints given to us to act in the same capacity within the body of Christ? Does it not take a Mother Theresa or Francis Schaeffer to live a life of complete dedication, just to show us that it can be done? Sure, we may like to keep a comfortable distance, but I know in my case, when I get whiny about how hard my life is, I can usually recall the life of some saint who lived with more dedication in more difficult circumstances.

So, let us all listen to the voice of the heroic within, and be Reepicheeps one to another!
 
As far as Caspian turning back, I don't think the greater good would have been continuing with Reepicheep but returning to Narnia. I think the sailors were absolutely right to tell Caspian that he had to go back to Narnia. I think Danielle in Ever After says it well when she tells the prince that he was born to privilege and with that comes specific obligation. Caspian has a responsiblity to his people, if he wants to enjoy the good parts in life by getting to sail away for a year, he needs to realize he has to accept his duty as king.
 
I'm not sure I agree that we all have a hero in us. God makes us good and selflessly couragous, but apart from him we are snivling cowards, though we ocasionally engage in heroic activity for self gloriflication.
 
I think that perhaps Caspian need to stay behind has to do with God's plan for us on earth. Aslan needed Caspian to serve men as their king, to look after his kingdom. Each of us have RESPONSIBILITIES while we're here, and they arent something that we can neglect.

Perhaps Reep's sword is symbollic of a mask. We all wear mask's infront of people, we all act different. Perhaps Reep tossing his sword was saying that he could be himself in the presence of the Lord.
 
I was going to start another thread, but after taking another look at this one (especially the title), I reconsidered and decided it was just as good to keep this one going. I have some thoughts on Dawn Treader, and wondered if anyone else might be interested in picking things up again where they were left off. I consider it a shame that so few discussion threads are going about this wonderful book.

First, I have always loved The Voyage of the Dawn Treader, and if anyone were to ask me before, I would have said it was my favorite of the series. I recently re-read it, and I am still tempted to say so, even though Silver Chair is a wonderful read full of spiritual insight. Comparing those two, in fact, makes for enlightening stuff. More on that later.

I found something that I have been itching to share concerning the close of DT, but before I do that I wanted to make some general remarks and see if anyone bites.

I think that DT is the most episodic of the series, with the time in Narnia beginning after the sea voyage had begun, and being divided, quite nearly chapter to chapter, between semi-distinct episodes that together form the story. One might say each island visited forms an episode, but that gets messy since the beginning is a bit more involved with the Lone Islands episode, and a few things happen in open sea (like the attack of the Sea Serpent) with which no island visit is directly associated. In any case, more than usual, the chapters stand apart from each other. Yet the story hangs together quite well, and one never gets the feeling that it is disjointed ("episodic," in fact, is a pretty harsh description that can be pinned on poorly made movies and books). What is the cohesion in the story that makes it work so well?

Well, for one thing the character development is just great. Between Reepicheep and Eustace, not to mention some wonderful stuff with Caspian that goes well beyond the book that bears his name, there's a lot to find there. But I think it goes deeper than that. I think the binding theme to DT is one that has been of enduring importance for Christian life and even history through the centuries, but has fallen out of vogue of late, and that is the theme of pilgrimmage. In recent years this concept (or rather, spiritual truth) has become much more important to me. Sometime back, wearied by the battle, I was complaining a bit about all the fight and I felt impressed in the Lord that I was selling my spiritual walk short by only considering the realities I faced through the lens of spiritual warfare (which is terribly in vogue today). Now, don't get me wrong, I think spiritual warfare is critically important as a spiritual metaphor, and Lewis uses it extensively (LWW; PC; and SC, though I would contend this one also uses quest quite a bit, making it quite Tolkienesque in that regard; and of course LB). I won't go on about Lewis' intent, though with a mind as sharp as his I cannot believe much was lost on him once he got into it. Yet I think that Lewis' point in DT is that life is a pilgrimmage toward "Aslan's Land," and as such consists of a series of lessons that never seems as if it will end, but is in fact finite. In DT this is illustrated by visits to island after island, this one with mystery, that one with danger, here horror, there humor, another with ugliness, another with beauty, but all with something to teach us in our way. In the end, the earth is flat and does end, and with it both the journey and the lessons as we reach Aslan's Land; we will not always be pupils as we are now--we will see His face one day.

Well, I've gone on. I would love for some feedback and a picking up of Prince of the West's insightful questions.
 
He was most likely having "dragonish thoughts" because maybe he was thinking about dragons, because of course he was in a dragon's cave.
 
My thought is that Eustace became a dragon because that was what he truly was. Notice how rude he is to others - if someone on this forum were to do that, we'd call it "flaming". He's totally self-centered and greedy, and isn't willing to give anything. He just wants to take, take, take. Read carefully about his first reaction when he learns he's a dragon: now he can pay everyone back! But then he realizes how cut off he is from human company. The irony is that it really isn't a change! Eustace Clarence, by his attitudes and disposition, was already cut off from human company - the lowest cabin boy on the Dawn Treader could have told him that! He just didn't realize it until he looked at his scaly hide and bat wings. Just as he didn't realize he was had taken dragon form until he looked into the mirror of the pool, likewise he never realized his dragonish heart until he looked into the mirror of his new form.

This is interesting because it illustrates how Christ sometimes ministers to us. Looking at the Dragon Island episode and asking the question, "When did Aslan start ministering to Eustace?", one might be tempted to respond, "When He showed up in his dream, of course." But no - Aslan permitted Eustace to undergo hardship, to reap what he had sown and feed on that bitter grain for a while, for his own good. Eustace learned more as a dragon than he ever would have as a boy (Aslan did the same thing to Rabadash in Horse). Then, once he'd learned what he needed, Aslan restored him to himself to give him another chance to practice his lessons. Likewise, in my life, often I moan and wail when difficulty comes about - "What did I do to deserve this? Why are things so hard? Don't you love me, God?" But usually, looking back on those times, I see that I was being given a chance to learn things about myself and about God that I wasn't going to learn any other way.

This dovetails neatly with Parthian King's point about the pilgrimage and what we can learn there. Many of us moderns, particularly we Americans, have little patience for the journey. Travel time is "wasted" time (unless we "redeem" it somehow by doing business on our cell phones or using some other distraction), and we want to get it over with quickly so we can get to our destination and get about our business. The idea that the journey itself is the business is alien to our modern minds.

Yet that is often the message of classic Christianity. I had some friends who went to Spain to travel el Camino de Santiago de Compostela - an ancient pilgrimage route where the travel itself is the devotional, and pilgrims linger at ancient waystops to pray and learn. (I can't describe it fully here, but you can follow this link to learn more.) Point being that Parthian King is right - whether it was a local pilgrimage or a journey to Jerusalem, the path of the pilgrim was seen as a small model of our entire lives. This also ties in with an important lesson that God taught me years ago. For a long time I lived with great concern for what I was doing for God, how effective and useful I was in His service. I kept getting frustrated at all the delays and problems I had, thinking they were hindering my work. Slowly I began to realize that He wasn't that interested in what I could do for Him - if He really wanted something done, He could do it Himself. But what He did want to do is change me - make me a different person. That's what the struggles of the pilgrimage were about - and, for that matter, what the Voyage of the Dawn Treader was all about. Do you imagine that those who returned to Narnia were ever the same? What kind of king do you think Caspian made, after he had drunk the waters of the Last Sea and seen the birds fly out of the rising sun? I think he'd be just the kind of king Narnia would need to heal after centuries of alien domination - particularly because he was of the alien race.

So let us not grow impatient! Let us accept the pilgrimage placed before us - by all means fighting the battles we must along the way, but not growing impatient with our lives or ourselves when it just seems we're sailing into nothingness. We are always between the paws of Aslan, and He is doing in our lives what He will.
 
I have long been thinking about Prince's fifth question, when Ramandu says that stars are not large balls of flaming gas, only what they are made of.

It appears that I simply cannot come up with a good explanation for what this could mean... I can barely come up with a bad explanation!

Could it possibly be that stars have such a bigger purpose? They're not just circles of hot gas, they can direct our paths (not like astrology, but like how here, Polaris points us North)? That is a horrible explanation and I am very sorry!

Is it that Eustace talks about them so casually, as if they were just common, regular, nothing- special- about- them things in the sky, while they are really these spectacular things that we should be in awe of...?

Wow, this is embarassing; here I go, rambling off about the explanation to the question, while I am very most likely WAY off...

If anybody has any REAL explanations, that would be a great so that you could save me from any further future embarassment...
 
"It's all in Plato, all in Plato! Bless me, what do they teach them in these schools?"

What you're getting there is the classically trained Lewis taking a direct slap at the modern mindset by having Ramandu answer the thoroughly modern Eustace's presupposition, not the statement itself.

We moderns think in very material terms: a "thing" is what it is made of. The answer to the question "What is a pencil?" comes out, "A roughly cylindrical form of wood, typically painted on the outside, with a core made of graphite and clay." The description of what it is made of is considered the description of what it is.

This way of thinking is a very recent development. Classic thinkers dating back to Aristotle and Socrates (and, yes, Plato) thought of things like mass, dimension, and coloration as being incidental aspects of what a thing really was - in fact, they were called "accidents", but since we use that term totally differently, think of them as "external aspects." The reality of a thing belonged to a different reality, and the physical thing that you were holding in your hand was a echo or a shadow of the "true" reality.

I know this sounds kind of odd, but it's because you've been trained differently. For the past several centuries, influenced by rationalistic thought and a materialistic world view, we all have come to think of the things we can touch, taste, and weigh as "real" things, while metaphysical things are somehow less real. But this is a modern development - most of history has thought of the metaphysical realities as being more real - the foundation, in fact, of the physical ones.

Let me try to bring this home. If someone were to ask, "What are you, Deplorable Word?", a chemist might respond, "Why, several pounds of water-based colloidal suspension, consisting of atoms of carbon, nitrogen, and oxygen arranged in very peculiar patterns." Mostly that would be a joke, since "you" are clearly more than that. But what makes you more than that is the metaphysical part of you: your consciousness, your soul. That's the part of you that is more real than the water and proteins that make up your physical body.

But it's not just you, nor is it just humans. Beavers, for that matter, and flowers, and even rocks are all things that are more than the sum of their substance. A strict materialist, like some of our fellow forumers posting in other threads, would say, "That's nonsense! A rock is a rock, nothing more!" But that is a philosophical position, and no more defensible than any other. The great Plato spoke of Ideals, and that there existed somewhere (not in our physical universe) a place where the Ideal of a Rock existed, and the physical rock whose external aspects just tripped me in the road was but a shadow or reflection of the Ideal Rock. This was an idea of Plato's, but St. Thomas Aquinas had no difficulty in seeing it through the lens of Revealed Truth, and the way in which God not only created but sustains all things at all times. In the mind of God there exists the idea of Rock, and each particular rock is but a manifestation of that idea. For that matter, so is each beaver, flower, and person.

This is how most classically trained thinkers have thought through history, at least in Christendom. A thing is far more than what it is made of: it is the reflection of a greater reality found in a greater source. You are; I am; even honeybees are. It is only the modern world, with it's "scientific" outlook, says nonsense like "a star is a great flaming ball of gas", as if that simple phrase exhausts the idea and wonder of a star. A star "is" a reflection of the glorious Ideal of Starhood which exists in the mind of the Creator and Sustainer of all things. As such, it is also a reflection of His great glory and power, but it is far, far more than "merely" flaming gas. That may be all our senses can apprehend, but reality is far greater than that which presents itself to our senses.

Long answer, but I hope it helps!

Under the Mercy!
 
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