Because everyone loves a good story
Wouldn’t it be nice to have a superhero as a friend? I mean, it’s like having a “get out of jail free” card. Every time you got yourself into a bind or found yourself in danger, you could count on your friend to come zooming in and divert the bullet, snatch you from the burning building, or catch you before you splatted on the sidewalk. Why? Because he or she would be loyal to you.
Loyalty, in the words of my good friend Merriam-Webster, includes being “faithful to a private person to whom faithfulness is due.” Heroes protect their friends. Heroes also protect the innocent, the downtrodden, and sundry other miserable wretches. If they neglected these people, they would lack loyalty and would therefore negate their heroism.
I think the word “loyalty” also implies a faithfulness to one’s duty. Often the hero is the only one with the skill set, strength, or qualifications to defend the innocent, and he feels duty-bound to act on their behalf. Although we won’t be discussing him much this week, Superman is a great example of this. While he could have walked away and let humanity fend for itself, he chose to protect those who didn’t even appreciate him. That’s why I believe a hero has a duty to be loyal not only to others but to who he is as well. To neglect to act heroically is to deny his core identity.
So let’s look at how loyalty can be found in the stories of Beowulf and Harry Potter!
You may remember this from two weeks ago, but Beowulf was an Old English warrior with the strength of thirty men. We know that he killed the monster Grendel but not because it was a menace to his town; he killed it because it was terrorizing someone else’s town. In that regard, Beowulf was loyal to Hrothgar, king of the Danes, even though it wasn’t his sovereign.
See, Beowulf’s father had known Hrothgar many years before, but since Beowulf lived across the sea, he was in no way obligated to serve that king. Hrothgar was a worthy monarch, though, and everyone who served him loved him. So when Beowulf heard of Hrothgar’s plight, Beowulf came to his aid.
He was loyal to Hrothgar not only because of the friendship his father had with the king but also because of his duty to help those who couldn’t help themselves. Because of his strength, Beowulf was the only man able to fight the beast with any hope. Remember, the monster Grendel couldn’t be wounded by any weapon, so strength alone was needed to challenge him. Knowing this, Beowulf sailed to Hrothgar’s halls to fight the monster.
He was also faithful to his men. He chose fourteen of the keenest warriors to sail and fight with him, and they went willingly. That’s a crazy commitment considering that none of them had the strength of thirty men. The poem says that when they lay down to sleep in Hrothgar’s hall that night, none of them expected to see the morning. They had followed their brave captain into the lion’s den, and they were ready to die with him. What a loyal captain to inspire such devotion!
He proved his loyalty within the hour. Just after they fell asleep, Grendel crept into the hall and gobbled up a warrior, and so the fight was on. In the midst of the monster’s attack, Beowulf didn’t run away but ran to Grendel and took the full force of his wrath. He fought and protected not only Hrothgar’s people but his own men as well. His loyalty to his duty and his men inspired their loyalty to him.
Now, it’s kind of a mental shift to go from Beowulf to Harry Potter, but bear with me here. They both showed loyalty in their own ways. While Harry didn’t have superhuman strength or a band of fourteen warriors to back him up, he did have two good friends and the determination to fight evil. He shows his loyalty first of all to his friends…most of the time. We often see him sticking up for Hermione when she’s under criticism for being a muggle. He comes to Ron’s aid when he’s made fun of for being less than wealthy. He even crosses Draco Malfoy to defend poor Neville Longbottom. Like any high school student, he was occasionally swept up in waves of drama (misunderstandings, rumors, jealousy, etc.), but once he got over those, he remained loyal to his friends.
But more important than defending his friends from mockery, Harry was also determined to defend everyone from destruction. This ranged from despised individuals to beloved groups. Far from being his friend, Draco Malfoy was the embodiment of the “old blood” magic that scorned any pandering to muggles. But despite Draco’s antagonism, Harry still chose to save him from death by fire in the room of requirement. Harry also knew that what set him apart as the Boy Who Lived was also what slated him to be the boy who dies. When the time came for him to sacrifice himself for the good of his school and the world, he knew what he had to do. Harry’s loyalty protected those he loved, but it also served to protect him in the end.
Everyone knows that a true hero has to be loyal to his friends and his duty. But in my opinion, it’s one of the most admirable traits because it’s an internal compulsion more than a choice. A hero may struggle with the ramifications of sacrificing himself for the good of others, but in the end he will choose to act. That loyalty is more impressive than mere strength of body because it’s strength of character.
Want to know about the last trait of an Old English hero? Tune in next week to find out!
Check out the next post here!
What do Robin Hood and Harry Potter have in common? Prudence!
No, that’s not some weird academic joke. It’s a real (albeit nerdy) idea that I want to prove in today’s post. If you missed last week’s post about the characteristics of the Old English hero and the trait of fortitude, feel free to check that out too!
So what is prudence? It sounds like something a very smug, puritanical person would strive to display, but it’s more than that. To help us understand it better, let’s ask Merriam-Webster. The first definition says it’s “the ability to govern and discipline oneself by the use of reason.” The fourth says it’s “caution or circumspection as to danger or risk.” Basically, it’s reason and caution. But what makes those qualities heroic?
Prudence is a vital quality for a hero because it provides a balance to fortitude. See, if a hero were to avail himself of every opportunity to display physical strength, he probably wouldn’t last very long. He would dive headlong into a fight without pausing to consider strategy, diplomacy, or even evasion, like the orcs in Sauron’s tower of Mordor. But if all the hero had was prudence without fortitude, he would be a coward, skulking and conniving like Grima Wormtongue in the courts of Theoden. But when he balances strength with caution, the hero looks more like Aragorn on Weathertop, fending off the Nazgul with fire rather than swords. And while I’d love to discuss Aragorn, I’m going to look at two other examples instead, so let’s dive in!
I won’t even discuss whether or not the Robin Hood legend is based off of a real person. Like the debate about King Arthur, you’ll find people all across the “real vs fictional” spectrum. It’s enough to know that the first mention of Robin Hood seems to be in Piers Plowman way back in 1377, and his popularity has only grown from there. His stories are most often set during the reign of either Richard the Lionhearted (late 1100’s) or Edward II (early 1300’s). But no matter what time period he shows up in, he’s always fulfilling a similar role: that of the outlaw and hero.
So what makes Robin a good example of prudence? Good question. Robin Hood is physically fit and, what’s more, is supremely skillful with a bow and arrow. He also has a whole band of merry men who will come running at the toot of his horn. But he doesn’t often rely on these physical advantages when it comes to fending off bad guys and defending good guys. Instead, he uses his noggin. That’s right, Robin Hood stories often include the use of disguises, trickery, and general sneakiness. It’s no coincidence that Disney uses a fox to portray Robin in the old cartoon movie; that Robin is a sly guy.
The earliest stories of Robin Hood were actually ballads—rhyming poems either recited or sung as entertainment in the dark ages before Netflix. Robin and his men were often shown outwitting corrupt monks, crooked politicians, and of course the Sheriff of Nottingham. Actually, Robin’s a bit more violent in some of the early ballads. Later versions tone him down so we don’t see him, say, chopping off the sheriff’s head. But more often he and Little John employed deception rather than violence to, uh, bend the law in their favor.
We see several glimpses of this cleverness in the old Disney movie as Robin dresses in various disguises. He fools everyone at the archery tournament by dressing like a stork and casually hitting one bullseye after the other. He pretends to be a blind beggar and flatters the sheriff into sharing information. He even dresses as an old fortune teller and robs Prince John of his gold and jewels. And yes, he does engage in a few good ol’ fashioned brawls, but those are usually after his tricks have run out.
Now, you might be (and probably should be) wondering if Robin Hood is a better example of a vigilante than a true hero. My honest answer is maybe. While he does display the heroic traits of fortitude, prudence, loyalty, and generosity, he also displays the elfin traits of mischief and evasion. He reminds me of Peter Pan in that regard—impish and resourceful but a bit of a loose cannon. But the fact that he does possess the four Old English virtues shows me that our conception of the hero had evolved but a little in the three-hundred-plus years since Beowulf. Now let’s take a look at a contemporary hero to see how prudence is displayed in the life of Harry Potter.
Now, Harry Potter may not look like an Old English hero at first. Those broken glasses, those hand-me-down clothes of Dudley’s, and that hesitant attitude make him seem more like the wimpy sidekick than the hero of a story. And that, I believe, is the point. See, the other heroes in my examples were born heroes (more or less), but Harry had heroism thrust upon him. But that gives hope to the rest of us that if, for example, we’ve been stuffed in a broom cupboard under the stairs for most of our lives—metaphorically speaking—there is still a chance that our Hogwarts letter is in the mail. And that’s just the kind of pep talk today’s youngsters thrive on. Thanks, Disney.
“Well, if you think Harry’s such a hero,” you say, “then prove it.” I’ll try. You’ll notice I didn’t use him as an example of strength. He does grow in physical strength (and all the other heroic qualities) as the series progresses, but strength is not his selling point. Instead, he is a better example of prudence. Rather than using his muscles, he uses his resources—especially his friends. He and his two pals are no match for the Dark Lord physically, but with their combined abilities, they are able to outwit him time and time again. Actually, let’s be real: Hermione is kind of the real hero. But since she probably wouldn’t have taken on Voldemort without the Boy Who Lived, we’ll give Harry the credit. (Typical.)
To list just a few examples of Harry’s prudence, consider the time the trio used their wits to protect the Sorcerer’s Stone. Of course, they thought they were protecting it from Snape, but hey. It was Book 1. Give them a break. They also used a special tool and their logic to save Sirius Black from paying for another man’s crimes. They even saved Buckbeak the hippogriff while they were at it! Harry killed a basilisk and saved Ginny Weasley, he cracked the clues (with help) to win the Triwizard Tournament (kind of), he passed on his knowledge and experience to others in Dumbledore’s Army, and he ultimately used the what he knew about the Deathly Hallows to defeat You Know Who. While he was a skillful wizard, he most often relied on his resources and his friends to triumph. Now that’s pretty heroic.
While today’s idea of a hero tends to be more focused on strength, prudence is still a major factor. Knowing when to act is important, but knowing when not to act is vital. That’s so catchy I think I’ll go put it on a school poster. See you next week!
Check out the next post here!
Sources:
Robin Hood history: https://www.historic-uk.com/HistoryUK/HistoryofEngland/Robin-Hood/
More Robin Hood history: https://www.britannica.com/topic/Robin-Hood
As you may know, I used to teach British Literature in my former life. I taught that class so many times that its ideas and stories are deeply ingrained in my mind even now. And I love it. (Nerds of the world, unite!) For example, I was thinking about the four characteristics of the Old English hero as they relate to Beowulf, Robin Hood, Superman, and Harry Potter. Curious? Skeptical? Read on!
The literature book opened with a unit on the Old English period. Like, the Ooold English period. If you think Shakespeare sounds old school in the early 1600’s, wait till you see what English was like in the late 900’s:
Hwæt. We Gardena in geardagum,
þeodcyninga, þrym gefrunon,
hu ða æþelingas ellen fremedon.
Those are the opening lines of the epic poem Beowulf. Their modern English translation (complements of Frances B. Grummere) reads:
Lo, praise of the prowess of people-kings
of spear-armed Danes, in days long sped,
we have heard, and what honor the athelings won!
If you’re tempted to stop reading this article now, just hang in there! I won’t be quoting from the Old English anymore, I promise. I just wanted to give you a little historical perspective so that the foundation of this series is thoroughly laid. See, I’d like to write a series of articles about the characteristics of an Old English hero. Given how much the language has changed, you’d think the description of a hero would have changed too, right? But I’d like to prove that a true hero has looked the same for over 1000 years and will continue to do so.
How can I be so sure of that? Because I don’t think the characteristics are based on a passing cultural fad or a literary character. Instead, I believe they’re intrinsic to human nature, having been written on our hearts since creation. That’s why my last article will be about Jesus as the ultimate “hero.” (Don’t worry; I hope to make the article less corny than that sentence sounds.) So, without further ado, let’s look at the characteristics of fortitude, prudence, loyalty, and generosity as they relate to Beowulf, Robin Hood, Superman, and Harry Potter.
While not completely obsolete, “fortitude” is a word we don’t use very often these days. But if it’s important enough to be one of the four heroic virtues, then we’d better figure out what it means. Merriam-Webster defines it as “strength of mind that enables a person to encounter danger or bear pain or adversity with courage.” It also mentions that the outdated meaning was physical strength. So for our purposes, I’ll describe fortitude as physical and mental strength and endurance.
For example, you need speed in order to run a sprint, but you don’t really need fortitude, do you? The race will be over in a matter of seconds. But if you’re signing up for a marathon, a triathlon, or an Iron Man competition, you’d better have some fortitude, and how! Physical and mental strength are an absolute must. You’ll need a body that won’t keel over after 25 miles, but you’ll also need a mind that can tell your body to keep going when it feels like keeling over. Personally, I have neither of these characteristics, but you know who does? Beowulf and Superman.
I don’t know if you’re very familiar with the poem Beowulf, but the title character is a pretty strong dude. He is described as having the strength of 30 men, and he proves this over and over throughout the story. The first time we see him engage in fisticuffs, he has chosen to take on the monster, Grendel. Grendel is not just any monster; he is a terror who lives in the marshes and has made a habit of slaying and eating the king’s most valiant warriors as they sleep in the mead hall. Oh, and he is impervious to any weapon. No wonder people have stopped hanging out in the king’s mead hall.
But not Beowulf. He and his band of men feast in the hall and then settle down for a little nap until the monster arrives, which he does before long. One warrior loses his head (figuratively) and tries to attack Grendel with a weapon. He then loses his head (literally) and is summarily gobbled up. Grendel thinks he’s in for another feast of Warrior McNuggets until Beowulf attacks. From the first moment Beowulf grips the monster, Grendel knows he’s done for. Beowulf continues to fight until he wrenches the monster’s arm out of its socket. Like, he rips the whole arm off. Grendel limps home to die in his marsh den. And so falls Grendel.
But this is just one example of the pattern of behavior that Beowulf lives by: physically strong and mentally determined. He later goes on to kill Grendel’s mother (!), many sea beasts, and a dragon. By the time he sustained a mortal wound from his battle with the dragon, he had already lived a long and mighty life. Undoubtedly, Beowulf was a specimen of fortitude.
Regarding the strength of Superman, I doubt that I need to provide many examples. I mean, we’re all more familiar with Superman than with Beowulf, right? (Ok, to be perfectly honest, I’m more familiar with Beowulf, but that’s because there is so much Superman literature out there! I did ask my comic geek husband for help though.) As a comic book hero, Superman has been around since 1938 and has continued to be embellished and enjoyed right up to the present. But guys, have you read the old comics? Or even the recent ones, for that matter? They are SO extreme about his strength. In the comics he moves the earth, sun, and other planets; sneezes a solar system out of existence; bench presses the Earth’s weight for 5 days straight using only reserve strength; and punches space and time itself. Beowulf would be jealous.
In the most recent movie series, he shows physical strength as well. He lifts a whole bus full of children out of a lake while he’s still a child himself. He flies and fights bad guys. He is very, very strong. We know. But he also shows fortitude by refusing to take revenge when he certainly could have. When a man in a bar tosses beer in Clark Kent’s face and even throws the can against the back of his head, Clark doesn’t crush his ribs or knock him senseless. I mean, he does skewer the guy’s semi on a load of timber logs, but it could have been much worse, right? Sometimes strength is displayed by having the endurance to refrain from using it. Superman is a great example of this.
So we’ve looked at one trait and two heroes. What’s next? More of the same! We’ll continue to look at one trait and two heroes for the next few weeks, starting with Robin Hood and Harry Potter as examples of prudence.
In the meantime, what about you? Can you think of a hero who displays fortitude? If so, leave it in the comments below!
Check out the next post here!
Sources:
Old English Beowulf: https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poems/43521/beowulf-old-english-version
Modern English Beowulf: https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poems/50114/beowulf-modern-english-translation
Superman article: https://www.quora.com/DC-Comics-What-are-some-of-Supermans-greatest-feats-achievements
Other Superman article: https://www.cbr.com/superman-overpowered-feats-of-strength/
A few weeks ago we took a look at a fantastic little tool: the book of liturgical prayers called Every Moment Holy, by Doug McKelvey. The premise of his book, as far as I know, is the belief that it’s not just the big, religious events in life that warrant a spiritual response; rather, every mundane, prosaic moment can be consecrated as holy to God if we set our hearts in that direction.
Recently I was reading the final chapter of A.W. Tozer’s gem of a book, The Pursuit of God. It was so related to that previous post that I couldn’t resist writing about it here. Today I hope to talk about the often-overlooked truth that every aspect of our lives—from Sunday morning’s worship service to Thursday night’s bedtime routine—can be an equally-pleasing gift to God. In Tozer’s down-to-earth style, he helps clarify why and how this can be. Let’s check it out together!
Tozer begins the final chapter of his book with this statement: “One of the greatest hindrances to internal peace which the Christian encounters is the common habit of dividing our lives into two areas, the sacred and the secular” (117). And isn’t this the truth? Many of us were probably raised with this assumption either explicitly or implicitly undergirding our lives. It seemed that some activities were holier and more sacred than others. Going to church is sacred. Going to school is secular. Praying is holy. Playing is worldly. Serving in a soup kitchen is spiritual. Serving dinner to our families is a necessary evil.
This belief can lead to tension. “We go about our common tasks with a feeling of deep frustration, telling ourselves pensively that there’s a better day coming when we shall slough off this earthly shell and be bothered no more with the affairs of this world” (118-119). The older and more responsible I get, the more I wrestle with this feeling of frustration he mentions. Why, I lament, is so much of my precious time filled with such non-spiritual, non-important tasks? If I’m an eternal soul supposed to make an eternal difference, then why is 90% of my day consumed by menial tasks like buying groceries, caring for an infant, washing laundry, caring for an infant, making food, and caring for an infant? (I’m sure you see a common theme here.) Is this really what God intended for me? Surely not!
But Tozer protests, saying that “the sacred-secular antithesis has no foundation in the New Testament….The Lord Jesus Christ Himself is our perfect example, and He knew no divided life….God accepted the offering of His total life, and made no distinction between act and act” (119). Yes, I argue, but surely Jesus used His time better than I did. I mean, when’s the last time I performed a miracle (excluding the decent lunch I conjured out of random leftovers, which I believe really was akin to the loaves and fish)?
But God leaves us not only the example of Christ—which really does count, despite His divinity—but He also gives us a direct command to honor Him in every single thing that we do. “Paul’s exhortation to ‘do all to the glory of God’ is more than pious idealism….Lest we should be too timid to include everything, Paul mentions specifically eating and drinking….If these lowly animal acts can be so performed as to honor God, then it becomes difficult to conceive of one that cannot” (120).
So God really does intend for our entire lives to be sacred. What a relief, and what a challenge! It’s a relief to know that He didn’t intend for us to live like monks or ascetics, hiding away in solitary prayer lest we accidentally think a non-eternal thought. He intended for us to live normal lives with eternity in mind. Of course, some will make greater use of their time and talents, but all believers can do all to the glory of God if they let the Spirit enable them. But therein lies the challenge.
Assuming we accept as possible this command to live all of life as a sacrament, our next question should be, “How on earth do I do that?” Tozer answers that knowing the truth is not enough. Rather, we apply it “by meditation upon this truth, by talking it over with God often in our prayers, by recalling it to our minds frequently as we move about among men” (122). It is a constant realignment of our minds and hearts.
But our old thought patterns will continually resurface, and Satan will do his best to distract us from this sacred mindset. We can continue to live in this reality “only by the exercise of an aggressive faith. We must offer all our acts to God and believe that He accepts them. Then hold firmly to that position and keep insisting that every act of every hour of the day and night be included in the transaction” (123). Will it be easy or instant? Definitely not. But is it possible? Without a doubt. Let me share with you the example of a man I know.
In certain circles, it’s normal to refer to a pastor or missionary as being in “full-time ministry,” while a factory job is considered “secular.” I understand what they’re getting at, but I think this terminology is part of our problem. As Tozer reminds us, “It is not what a man does that determines whether his work is sacred or secular, it is why he does it” (127).
For example, I know a man whose factory job was his full-time ministry. He started his day by spending time reading the Bible, writing down a verse or two on a little index card to carry in his pocket during the day so he wouldn’t forget. He used his commute to pray for people and to meditate on the verses he read that morning. He used many of his interactions at work to encourage and pray for people. He spent some of his lunch breaks having Bible studies with a handful of interested guys. He was asked to come to co-workers houses in order to pray for their sick family members. When he came to retirement age, he told me, “I know I could be done here already, but I’m having too much fun!”
He may sound like an unapproachable, pious person, but he’s not at all! He’s just a regular guy who takes seriously God’s command to do all for His glory. I didn’t mention his name so that I don’t embarrass him (he wouldn’t want the attention anyway), but I’ll bet you know people who fit this description as well.
However, if you’re anything like me, that example may seem a little daunting. After all, I feel pretty accomplished when I remember to pray over my lunch or to be thankful for a small blessing that God gives me during the day. How in the world am I supposed to get to a point where my whole day is lived for God’s glory? With repentance when I fail and rededication when I remember. After all, “Let a man sanctify the Lord God in his heart and he can thereafter do no common act….For such a man, living itself will be sacramental and the whole world a sanctuary” (127). It’s a high and lofty goal, but with God’s help, it’s worth pursuing.
Source: Tozer, A.W. The Pursuit of God. Mansfield Centre: Martino Publishing, 2009.
When it comes to food, there is a definite difference between being picky and being particular. I’ve never been picky about what I eat. I enjoy almost all flavors, and I’ll try just about anything once: fried alligator, horse steak, a whole tiny squid… (I don’t recommend that last one.) But many times I’ve been accused of being particular about how I eat. And, really, I can’t deny it.
But in my defense, I think meals should be a chance to exercise one’s aesthetic principles. Eating shouldn’t be a utilitarian function, like carp sucking scum from the bottom of a lake in order to stay alive. It should be an adventure full of enjoyment and variety, like a humming bird flitting from flower to flower, sampling the various nectars. The flavors and, just as importantly, the textures should cover a wide spectrum. If they don’t, you’re only cheating yourself.
And yes, I know this philosophy is ridiculous and unsustainable, especially with children around. I just can’t help myself.
Now, I want to make clear that I’m no foodie. When I cook, it’s usually pretty basic stuff. I don’t have expensive taste (I’ll pass on the caviar, thank you), but I still like to make sure that the way I eat is enjoyable. I’ll explain more about that later.
You thought I forgot that this is supposed to be about a book, right? But don’t worry—I’m getting to that right now.
What I love about the book Bread and Jam for Frances is that Russell Hoban perfectly captures the essence of eating for enjoyment. He does so by introducing us to Frances, a young badger who won’t eat anything but bread and jam. Her parents and even her baby sister are enjoying soft boiled eggs for breakfast, but not Frances. She declines the eggs, saying that “soft boiled eggs slide off your spoon,… [and] sunny-side-up eggs lie on the plate and look up at you in a funny way. And sunny-side-down eggs just lie on their stomachs and wait” [7-8]. I can’t argue with her there. Eggs are one of the foods with a questionable texture.
But when supper time comes and her family is eating breaded veal cutlets, string beans, and baked potatoes, Frances declines again. Her reasoning? “There are many different things to eat, and they taste many different ways. But when I have bread and jam I always know what I am getting, and I am always pleased” [12]. Once again, her logic is solid. There are many adults who operate on the same principle, even when they go to a restaurant. Why risk trying something you might not like when you know that you could order the same thing you always like? But, like the people in this school of thought, Frances was caught in a web of near-sighted preferences. It would take her mother’s wisdom and her friend’s lunch to help her see the error of her ways.
Obviously Frances can’t go on eating only bread and jam forever. There must be a turning point. But how? First, Frances’ mother shows the kind of insight I hope to have one day. Instead of forcing Frances to eat everything in front of her (a perfectly legitimate tactic that I was raised on), she instead serves Frances nothing but bread and jam for every meal. Frances sees everyone else enjoying their food, but she contents herself with her bread and jam…for a while. But this tactic takes full effect when she sits next to her friend Albert during school lunch.
See, Albert knows what meal time is all about, and so, presumably, does his mother. When Frances pulls out her fifth consecutive meal of bread and jam, she looks over at Albert and asks what he has for lunch. Check out this spread: he has a cream-cheese-cucumber-and-tomato sandwich on rye, a pickle, a hard-boiled egg, a little cardboard shaker of salt, a thermos of milk, some grapes, a tangerine, and a cup of custard with a spoon. This, truly, is the lunch of champions.
But it’s not just what he eats that matters; it’s how he eats it. This is indeed a badger after my own heart. Watch this:
“Albert took two napkins from his lunch box. He tucked one napkin under his chin. He spread the other one on his desk like a tablecloth. He arranged his lunch neatly on the napkin. With his spoon, he cracked the shell of the hard-boiled egg. He peeled away the shell and bit off the end of the egg. He sprinkled salt on the yolk and set the egg down again. He unscrewed his Thermos-bottle cup and filled it with milk. Then he was ready to eat his lunch” [18].
The preparation was essential, but the way he eats is the best part.
“He took a bite of sandwich, a bite of pickle, a bite of hard-boiled egg, and a drink of milk. Then he sprinkled more salt on the egg and went around again. Albert made the sandwich, the pickle, the egg, and the milk come out even” [18-19].
Ahhhh. I feel catharsis down deep in my soul because of that last sentence. But Albert’s feast left Frances feeling downright dissatisfied.
By dinner time that night, the sight of more bread and jam brought Frances to tears. She was ready for spaghetti. And for lunch the next day, Frances’ food was a perfect specimen of the model mealtime. She set her desk with a doily and a little vase of violets. Then she unpacked her lunch of tomato soup, “lobster-salad sandwich on thin slices of white bread,” celery, carrots, black olives, salt, two plums, cherries, and vanilla pudding with chocolate sprinkles [31]. And, wouldn’t you know it, “she made the lobster-salad sandwich, the celery, the carrot sticks, and the olives come out even” [31].
Doesn’t the thought of that bring peace and joy to your heart? If not, then you’re probably just a normal, healthy individual who doesn’t need an intervention from family and friends. But if so, then we may be soul mates. You, me, and Frances.
Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to go make my dinner come out even.
Source: Hoban, Russell. Bread and Jam for Frances. New York: Harper & Row, 1964.
I love the parables of Jesus. He says so much in so few words. I think that’s the beauty of language used properly: so much more can be communicated when it’s implied rather than stated. And when the Author of language itself—the Word made flesh—is the one speaking, you can be sure that He is saying something worth thinking deeply about.
That’s why I want to look at these two short, powerful, life-changing parables today. They are so similar and yet communicate two different aspects of seeking the kingdom of heaven.
“The kingdom of heaven is like treasure hidden in a field, which a man found and covered up. Then in his joy he goes and sells all that he has and buys that field. Again, the kingdom of heaven is like a merchant in search of fine pearls, who, on finding one pearl of great value, went and sold all that he had and bought it.”
Matthew 13:44-46
There is one major truth that stands out as soon as you read these bold statements that Jesus makes: the kingdom of heaven must be pretty valuable. I mean, you see two different guys encountering two different kinds of treasure, but their response is the same—they sell everything to get it. So what is the kingdom of heaven, and what is Jesus saying in these parables? Let’s find out.
The phrase “kingdom of heaven” may seem a bit ambiguous. Does it mean the literal place that God dwells? Does it refer to his rule and reign on earth, too? I think John Piper clarified it best in a sermon on this passage. He says that the kingdom of heaven, or the kingdom of God, is “the reign of God and Christ, triumphing over everything that stands between you and everlasting life and joy, if you will treasure it more than anything else.” In other words, it is everything that His salvation accomplishes for those who recognize its worth. He goes on to say, “I think we can treat the kingdom of God here almost synonymously with salvation or with reconciliation with God through the work of Christ.”
So the kingdom of heaven in the context of these parables seems to be salvation and everything that comes along with it. In other passages, it’s clear that these are privileges and blessings that we get when we are in Christ. We don’t deserve to inherit the kingdom; only the Son of the King deserves that. But because we are in Christ, we inherit what He inherits, and that means the kingdom! I need to let that sink in next time I’m moping about something trivial that I think I deserve.
So the kingdom of heaven is salvation and all that it encompasses for us in Christ. Then what’s the deal with this treasure hidden in a field? What does that have to do with salvation? Apparently, in Jewish culture, it wasn’t uncommon for someone to bury his life’s savings somewhere on his property. This protected it from thieves since, presumably, no one knew where it was hidden. If that guy died or was taken away, his treasure may remain undiscovered for a long time.
Enter, the lucky guy in this parable.
I have no idea how he struck this treasure. It doesn’t say he was looking for it. In fact, it seems like he just kind of stumbles across it. Maybe he was digging around in a field, doing his day’s worth of farm work. Maybe he was trying to reach water. Who knows? All we’re sure of is that, while he is going about his daily life, he hits the jackpot: he finds a treasure that he didn’t expect, earn, or own, but he immediately decides to do whatever it takes to make it his own. He sells everything and buys the field.
Now what about the pearl of great value? I mean, how great could a pearl really be? Apparently, back in the day, pearls were a bigger deal than diamonds are today. Maybe it’s because they hadn’t yet begun to make faux pearls or enlist oysters to produce pearls on demand. Regardless, a quality pearl was a big-time collector’s item for the wealthy.
And while the man in the first parable seemed to stumble across the treasure in the field, the man in this parable is a merchant. This is his job. He goes around searching for great pearls, so he knows what he’s looking for. But when he sees this one pearl—this perfect, matchless pearl—he knows this is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. He sells everything and buys the pearl.
The difference between these men is that one was going about his own business, not looking for a treasure at all. The other was searching diligently for one pearl of matchless value. But regardless of their motives, they both found the treasure. Isn’t that just like God? He is pleased to reward those who diligently seek Him, and he is pleased to amply pay the laborer who did only an hour of work. The truth is, no one seeks God unless God is already drawing them to Himself, so you could just as truly say the treasures found these men. What great news! The seeking and finding isn’t up to us; it’s up to the One Who wants to be found.
But these guys may still seem crazy to us. If you’re anything like me, you are very reluctant to go “all in” on anything. I’d rather invest, say, 50% of what I have and save the other half as my “just in case” fallback plan. But not these guys. As different as they are—a regular laborer and a professional merchant—they have the same response to their treasures: they are all in.
And the most amazing part is expressed in three short words: “in his joy.” John Piper built a huge piece of his ministry around the truth contained in these words, and I think he was right to consider them so crucial. See, these guys don’t just take hesitant, fearful action or go home to discuss the pros and cons with all of their advisors. Instead, they immediately and joyfully trade their entire life’s security for this one treasure. Apparently, they saw the value and knew it was worth it. In their joy, they traded everything for the kingdom.
So what does the mean for us? Is Jesus implying that heaven can be bought? Is he saying that, if you really want salvation, it’s going to cost you all the money you have? No, I think that’s precluded by all his other teachings about salvation. Instead, I think His focus is on the recognition of the value of the kingdom. If we truly see what God is offering us in Christ, our response will be the same as these men: in our joy, we will gladly trade all that we’ve been hoarding and scraping in order to have the unsurpassable treasure of the kingdom. In fact, we’ll understand that it’s no sacrifice at all! The value of what we’re giving up is nothing compared to the value of what we’re gaining.
It’s not a sacrifice; it’s a joy.
Resources:
https://www.ligonier.org/learn/devotionals/pearl-great-price/ https://www.desiringgod.org/messages/the-kingdom-of-heaven-is-a-treasure
In this, my final post of 2018, I’d like to take a second to thank you for sticking with me this year. Whether you peruse occasionally, read faithfully, or dabble somewhere in between, I’m thankful for your interest in Past Watchful Dragons! In the future, I hope to have even more to offer you, and I can’t wait to hear from you, too!
Today’s is the final post in a series about C.S. Lewis’ space trilogy, so if you missed the articles about Out of the Silent Planet or Perelandra, feel free to catch up here! Otherwise, without further ado, let’s look at the last and longest of the trilogy, That Hideous Strength.
One major influence on this book is the King Arthur legends that are so popular in Britain. But even mentioning King Arthur is like opening a book with thousands and thousands of different chapters, some similar and some conflicting. For example, a handful of diehards spend their lives studying lore and history to prove that King Arthur really lived and, perhaps, will live again. there are others who believe that Arthur was inspired by a real person—a warrior or chieftain, maybe, but his story morphed as it was passed along. Many others simply enjoy the stories surrounding this hero, reveling in the magic, the glory, and the drama that comprise the tales. I feel like Lewis would have fallen into this last category. That Hideous Strength is heavily influenced by the person of Merlin, the magician and instructor of Arthur. As you read about Logres and Merlin’s Well, you may just be inspired to look into the legend for yourself.
Another influence on the book is rather hard to express until you’ve read it, but I’ll give it a shot. In That Hideous Strength, Lewis really tries to depict the politics of agenda-driven groups. Lewis has written at least one essay on the mindset of the “group,” or the “we” into which so many toadies strive to be included. He exposes the adult’s childish desire to be accepted by his perceived superiors, even if it means changing who he is or should be. This theme plays a major part on one of the main characters, Mark Studdock, who unwittingly sacrifices all that is really valuable for the chance to be accepted by the “in” group. It sounds like a junior high struggle, but Lewis’ portrayal is unsettlingly familiar in the corporate and adult world in general. I find his interpretation of this obsession both entertaining and frightening.
One of my favorite aspects of this novel is the psychological depths that Lewis plumbs in order to express his main characters. In my opinion, this may showcase Lewis’ characterization at its finest (with the exception of Orual in Till We Have Faces, which reigns supreme.) His protagonist, Jane Studdock, is both complex and recognizable, sympathetic and strong. Lewis does state her motivations and thoughts at times, but even more often he displays them through her actions. I think you’d really appreciate his complexity here.
I also loved all the strangely discordant elements that he weaves into one story: dull college life, Arthurian legend, planetary mythology, science fiction, corpse reanimation, dystopian future, and character psychology, to name a few. It seems like a concoction that strange shouldn’t work, but I believe it does. Remember, this is the book that most resembles the works of Lewis’ friend and inspiration, Charles Williams. You can read more about him in my first post, but suffice it to say that his works were bizarre. It’s no surprise, then, that the book that he inspired Lewis to write has some pretty bizarre elements as well.
To be honest, I was surprised to see how well he wrote the character of Jane Studdock. Often, a man knows men best, and a woman knows women best, but Lewis was a connoisseur of people in general. I feel that he had observed women enough to be able to portray them accurately, without flattery or insult. As I mentioned above, Lewis does a masterful job of portraying the psychology of Orual in Till We Have Faces, so I shouldn’t have been surprised to see how complex Jane was. But while Lewis does a great job with all of his characters, Jane’s is the one that shines the brightest in this book.
I was also taken off guard by a scene that I found to be surprisingly funny. I think Lewis is funny pretty often, with his wry observations and British understatements, but this was different. At one point in the story, an event similar to the Tower of Babel occurs: a confusion of languages turns a formal meeting into an absolute zoo. Since I didn’t know it was coming, the scene’s comic nature took me by surprise and made me laugh out loud. Really! I lol-ed! Granted, I’m a sucker for funny, made up words, so this is inherently funny to me, but I think you’ll get a kick out of it too.
The same things that influenced the story may, in my opinion, be the things that daunt you about it. For example, if you don’t know anything at all about the King Arthur legends, specifically about Merlin and the land called Logres, then you may be a little baffled by some of the plotline. However, that’s easily fixable! Just look up a few versions of the Arthur legend until you get a basic grasp of the characters and setting. You’d enjoy that anyway!
You may also be daunted by the college politics. It’s easy to get lost in the names, groups, and motivations of the people involved, especially if you don’t work in a corporate or “climb the ladder” type of atmosphere. But even so, I think Lewis explains things well enough that you’ll be able to track along with the plot without any problems.
If I haven’t convinced you yet, let me say that this book has great storytelling! The style is modern, witty, and engaging. The characters are believable, complex, and humorous. The plot, while it is pretty strange and maybe even bizarre, is one that will keep you thinking about it even after you’ve put the book down. And furthermore, it’s a love story. Now, half of you just rolled your eyes and decided not to read it. The other half just got interested for the first time. But let me say this: it’s a strange, unique love story featuring estrangement, selfishness, drifting, guardedness, and restoration set against the backdrop of a creepy, secret society of scientists. Trust me—it’s like nothing you’ve ever read before. Well, it’s like nothing I’d ever read before. And I’d be so happy if you’d run right out and buy the whole trilogy just so you can let me know what you think! After all, it’s a new year soon. I can’t think of a better resolution than to read more great books like this.
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