Then Hwin, though shaking all over, gave a strange little neigh, and trotted across to the Lion. — "Please," she said, "you're so beautiful. You may eat me if you like. I'd sooner be eaten by you then fed by anyone else." — "Dearest daughter," said Aslan, planting a lion's kiss on her twitching, velvet nose, "I knew you would not be long in coming to me. Joy shall be yours." --(The Horse and His Boy, Chapter 14)
The conclusion of Stepping Heavenward brought me to remember the above quote from Lewis' best children's allegory. Repeatedly Katy (heroine of S.H.) discusses the sign of spiritual maturity as loving Christ regardless of our status in his sight. The security of our place is heaven means little next to the pure joys of knowing him; it is merely an added blessing.
But the short exercise of posting this quote with a picture has brought this truth to a new level--the image of what Hwin is saying (above) is harsh and violent--very J. Donne. I was trying to find a nice, peaceful picture of Hwin & Aslan cuddling by a stream or a green field, but googling horse and lion brings no such sweetness. And most of these images are from museums in the U.K., so there is no doubt in my mind that Lewis knew exactly what he was imagining when he gave Hwin such a gentle and terrible line. I wonder how often we know what we are saying/imagining when we speak to others of God, or to Him ourselves.
7 comments:
It sounds like Joy.
... but Mrs. J, perhaps neither Google nor the BA are the place to look for a conceptual reconciliation of Hwin's hard words; rather, we should refer to the Truth of our faith and Lewis'... Hwin may not know it yet, perhaps, but this ferocious lion is He who makes Himself into food for HER. No wonder Aslan is so amused by her pluck-
You are right--though you taught me the Google trick.
Hebrews is a much better example:
Our God is a consuming fire.
And Job: though He slay me...
As usual, we are in agreement: the picture is the same, but our attention is drawn to different aspects of it--Subject vs. objects--who exists for Whom.
Yup! We are they who exist for the One who gives Himself for us. Job and Hebrews ought to be read in light of the Cross; only therein can we have the same focus.
AND in light of creation and Revelation (esp chapter 4) and all the other instances where God chooses to glorify Himself on His terms and according to His pleasure.
The Cross usually divides focus more than it unites: some see it as an ornament for the self and others as the end of the self.
I don't know how to articulate this post further than to re-ask the question that Prentiss pushed in the book--do I love Him regardless of my status in His sight? (picture: disciples arguing over THEIR place in the kingdom/probably sounding like many of the arguments we believers engage in under the facade of worship/debate is always easier and more self-satisfying).
And she made me think of Hwin, who loved the lion so much that being devoured by him was worth more to her than being fed by the rest of the world--and after surviving two previous lion attacks too, the image of which touched me in a new way.
If you haven't read Stepping Heavenward, I highly suggest it; Till We Have Faces also deals with this idea--in the goodness of the fierce Ungit, who devours all but is understood so differently through Glome and Greece--but both views are right, and also Hind's Feet on High Places contains a scene where the heroine "Much Afraid" finds that she loves Christ to the point where she would lay herself on the altar as long as she could love Him still (or something to that affect). What all of these have in common is the very pre-enlightened idea that perhaps it is possible to conceive and love God in a way that does not revolve around His acceptance of us (human-centered), but because of His pure worthiness of Love--and perhaps that's why the Cherabim who sing eternally in His presence don't mention the Cross or the church, or the Gospel, but merely repeat His name and His holiness...
Anyway, check out Stepping Heavenward if you haven't before; I don't think my shadowtalk makes much sense.
Mrs. J, you articulated it beautifully.
I remember a professor posing the same question at Hillsdale, from a page of a sermon of Jonathan Edwards... IE, if you KNEW you were among the damned, would you love Him anyway?" It's a noble question, but that's what bothers me.. it evokes such a rustling up of noble self-renunciation, and seems to risk an anxious turning of the eyes upon the self, rather than recalling the joyous thing that we KNOW who we are in His sight, because of who He has revealed Himself to be... Creator, Redeemer, Covenant Keeper- actions oriented towards "us," sinful humanity, yes, but apparently that's what He does, and that's what He has chosen for us to know of Him.
CF also the number of times the One at the center of the throne in Revelaiton is referred to as "the Lamb who was slain," on the cross under Pontius Pilate, whose memory is preserved by the Church under the tutelage of the Spirit.
Revelation matters here, and though the Lion is never tame, we KNOW Him as He is revealed in the preservation of Israel and the breaking of the bread. Of course we dont know enough yet, and that's where the spirit of Hwin is helpful.
- from an annoying Huck
Yes, that's it--it totally sounds Edwardesque...maybe we can agree that it's a good question to ask ourselves but a terrible one to answer.
BTW: had a Cadbury flake tonight & thought of you! If only we could be having this convo in Edinborough Castle with the Scottish Reformation Society! Or at Stonebridge in our togas: I was Cicero but I can't remember who you were...
... I was Lucretius, dearest, and it was about "de rerum natura"... and I would give ANYTHING to be back in our castle... this so wanted a pipe. Thanks for a great chat. I MISS YOU!
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