Coincidence? When reading C.S. Lewis, I
think not. I find so much symbolism within his Chronicles of
Narnia that I have a hard time dismissing any bits that I find to
be consistent with my beliefs. And while he may not have intended for
all my insights to be taken symbolically, I dare not discredit his
genius by suggesting otherwise.
Melody and I have been working our way
through the Chronicles of Narnia. (We read The Magician's
Nephew and just finished The Lion, the Witch, and the
Wardrobe.) Obviously, it's her first time through. I've read them
several times, though, and every time I read them I discover
something new to think about. This time through, I've been thinking
about the creatures of Narnia.
First off, Narnia contains ordinary
animals as well as an elite group that was given the ability to talk.
These talking animals are set apart and respected more than their
mute counterparts. For example, talking horses are only ridden in
times of emergency—such as war, and no talking animal is to be used
for food. They are elevated because of their gift of speech.
Many Narnians have a mixture of human
and animal bodies, giving them more than just the speech of humans.
There are centaurs, fauns, satyrs, minotaurs, and more. And what
truly struck me was that generally, those who side with Aslan are
those with human heads and animal legs or bodies—like the centaurs
and fauns. Those who side with the White Witch may have bodies or
characteristics that would make them seem human, but their heads are
animal heads. We can see this contrast directly with the “Bull with
the man's head” who makes his camp with Aslan and the “bull-headed
men” who are present with the witch at the stone table in Lion,
Witch and Wardrobe. Both are a conglomeration of man and bull,
but it seems significant that the bull-headed men are not simply
referred to as minotaurs. And why choose to include such
an odd creature as a bull with a man's head? I think this is an
intentional message Lewis is sending readers: use your head!
Seriously. Our capacity to reason is
unparalleled by any beast—or at least it should be. Unfortunately,
I find myself a bit “bull-headed” at times. In my obstinance and
failure to reason, I succumb to my more basic instincts and find
myself in violation of the first instructions Aslan gave Narnia
following its creation in The Magician's Nephew: “[A]wake.
Love. Think. Speak.” I may be awake and speaking (although, as a
sleep-talker not even the awake part is guaranteed), but I often
forget about loving and thinking before I speak. And I think the
order of the instructions matters greatly; simply speaking does not a
good Narnian make—for this is where the foolish and wicked Narnians
separate themselves from those who think and do good.
It was possible for animals who could
once talk to lose the ability. Some talking animals did not think,
but they loved. Others thought but didn't love. The noblest
characters—animal, human, or hybrid—spoke only after loving and
thinking.
I hope that my human head and my gift
of speech aren't being wasted . . . that my reason and choices keep
me in the realm of the human, rather than that of the beast.
Freedom and reason make us men;
Take these away, what are we then?
Mere animals, and just as well
The beasts may think of heav'n or
hell.
LDS Hymn #240, Verse 3
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