A Year with Aslan: Daily Reflections from The Chronicles of Narnia

by C. S. Lewis

  What does Jewel mean by saying that his joy is too great to let his belief settle itself? Has any news ever struck you this way? What, deep down, have you hoped for all your life?

  JANUARY 9

  The Call

  ASLAN THREW UP HIS SHAGGY HEAD, opened his mouth, and uttered a long, single note; not very loud, but full of power. Polly’s heart jumped in her body when she heard it. She felt sure that it was a call, and that anyone who heard that call would want to obey it and (what’s more) would be able to obey it, however many worlds and ages lay between. And so, though she was filled with wonder, she was not really astonished or shocked when all of a sudden a young woman, with a kind, honest face stepped out of nowhere and stood beside her. Polly knew at once that it was the Cabby’s wife, fetched out of our world not by any tiresome magic rings, but quickly, simply and sweetly as a bird flies to its nest. The young woman had apparently been in the middle of a washing day, for she wore an apron, her sleeves were rolled up to the elbows and there were soapsuds on her hands. If she had had time to put on her good clothes (her best hat had imitation cherries on it) she would have looked dreadful; as it was, she looked rather nice.

  Of course she thought she was dreaming. That was why she didn’t rush across to her husband and ask him what on earth had happened to them both. But when she looked at the Lion she didn’t feel quite so sure it was a dream, yet for some reason she did not appear to be very frightened. Then she dropped a little half curtsey, as some country girls still knew how to do in those days. After that, she went and put her hand in the Cabby’s and stood there looking round her a little shyly.

  —The Magician’s Nephew

  Why do you think Aslan chose a Cabby and his wife as the first king and queen of Narnia? She doesn’t know what she’s been called to do, yet she seems to trust that all is as it should be. Though this situation is extreme, have you ever found yourself in an unexpected place but where, deep down, you knew you were supposed to be?

  JANUARY 10

  Picking Sides

  THEY WERE ALL STILL WONDERING what to do next, when Lucy said, “Look! There’s a robin, with such a red breast. It’s the first bird I’ve seen here. I say!—I wonder can birds talk in Narnia? It almost looks as if it wanted to say something to us.” Then she turned to the Robin and said, “Please, can you tell us where Tumnus the Faun has been taken to?” As she said this she took a step toward the bird. It at once flew away but only as far as to the next tree. There it perched and looked at them very hard as if it understood all they had been saying. Almost without noticing that they had done so, the four children went a step or two nearer to it. At this the Robin flew away again to the next tree and once more looked at them very hard. . . .

  “Do you know,” said Lucy, “I really believe he means us to follow him.”

  “I’ve an idea he does,” said Susan. “What do you think, Peter?”

  “Well, we might as well try it,” answered Peter.

  . . . They had been traveling in this way for about half an hour . . . when Edmund said to Peter, “if you’re not still too high and mighty to talk to me, I’ve something to say which you’d better listen to. . . . [H]ave you realized what we’re doing? . . . We’re following a guide we know nothing about. How do we know which side that bird is on? Why shouldn’t it be leading us into a trap?”

  “That’s a nasty idea. Still—a robin, you know. They’re good birds in all the stories I’ve ever read. I’m sure a robin wouldn’t be on the wrong side.”

  “If it comes to that, which is the right side? How do we know that the Fauns are in the right and the Queen (yes, I know we’ve been told she’s a witch) is in the wrong? We don’t really know anything about either.”

  “The Faun saved Lucy.”

  “He said he did. But how do we know?”

  —The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe

  If you were Peter, how would you determine which is the right side? When have you been unsure whether someone was trustworthy or not? How did you decide?

  JANUARY 11

  The Source of Wisdom

  AFTER THIS, Caspian and his tutor had many more secret conversations on the top of the Great Tower, and at each conversation Caspian learned more about Old Narnia, so that thinking and dreaming about the old days, and longing that they might come back, filled nearly all his spare hours. But of course he had not many hours to spare, for now his education was beginning in earnest. He learned sword-fighting and riding, swimming and diving, how to shoot with the bow and play on the recorder and the theorbo, how to hunt the stag and cut him up when he was dead, besides Cosmography, Rhetoric, Heraldry, Versification, and of course History, with a little Law, Physic, Alchemy, and Astronomy. Of Magic he learned only the theory, for Doctor Cornelius said the practical part was not proper study for princes. “And I myself,” he added, “am only a very imperfect magician and can do only the smallest experiments.” Of Navigation (“Which is a noble and heroical art,” said the Doctor) he was taught nothing, because King Miraz disapproved of ships and the sea.

  He also learned a great deal by using his own eyes and ears. As a little boy he had often wondered why he disliked his aunt, Queen Prunaprismia; he now saw that it was because she disliked him. He also began to see that Narnia was an unhappy country. The taxes were high and the laws were stern and Miraz was a cruel man.

  —Prince Caspian

  What is the difference between what Caspian’s tutor taught him and what he learned using his own resources? Have you learned your most significant lessons from the instruction of others or from your own observations?

  JANUARY 12

  A Perfectly Ordinary Wardrobe

  LUCY RAN OUT of the empty room into the passage and found the other three.

  “It’s all right,” she repeated, “I’ve come back.”

  “What on earth are you talking about, Lucy?” asked Susan.

  “Why,” said Lucy in amazement, “haven’t you all been wondering where I was?”

  “So you’ve been hiding, have you?” said Peter. “Poor old Lu, hiding and nobody noticed! You’ll have to hide longer than that if you want people to start looking for you.”

  “But I’ve been away for hours and hours,” said Lucy.

  The others all stared at one another.

  “Batty!” said Edmund, tapping his head. “Quite batty.”

  “What do you mean, Lu?” asked Peter.

  “What I said,” answered Lucy. “It was just after breakfast when I went into the wardrobe, and I’ve been away for hours and hours, and had tea, and all sorts of things have happened.”

  “Don’t be silly, Lucy,” said Susan. “We’ve only just come out of that room a moment ago, and you were there then.”

  “She’s not being silly at all,” said Peter, “she’s just making up a story for fun, aren’t you, Lu? And why shouldn’t she?”

  “No, Peter, I’m not,” she said. “It’s—it’s a magic wardrobe. There’s a wood inside it, and it’s snowing, and there’s a Faun and a Witch and it’s called Narnia; come and see.”

  The others did not know what to think, but Lucy was so excited that they all went back with her into the room. She rushed ahead of them, flung open the door of the wardrobe and cried, “Now! go in and see for yourselves.”

  “Why, you goose,” said Susan, putting her head inside and pulling the fur coats apart, “it’s just an ordinary wardrobe; look! there’s the back of it.”

  Then everyone looked in and pulled the coats apart; and they all saw—Lucy herself saw—a perfectly ordinary wardrobe. There was no wood and no snow, only the back of the wardrobe, with hooks on it. Peter went in and rapped his knuckles on it to make sure that it was solid.

  “A jolly good hoax, Lu,” he said as he came out again; “you have really taken us in, I must admit. We half-believed you.”

  “But it wasn’t a hoax at all,” said Lucy, “really and truly. It was all different a moment ago. Honestly it was. I promise.”

 
“Come, Lu,” said Peter, “that’s going a bit far. You’ve had your joke. Hadn’t you better drop it now?”

  Lucy grew very red in the face and tried to say something, though she hardly knew what she was trying to say, and burst into tears.

  For the next few days she was very miserable. She could have made it up with the others quite easily at any moment if she could have brought herself to say that the whole thing was only a story made up for fun. But Lucy was a very truthful girl and she knew that she was really in the right; and she could not bring herself to say this. The others who thought she was telling a lie, and a silly lie too, made her very unhappy. The two elder ones did this without meaning to do it, but Edmund could be spiteful, and on this occasion he was spiteful. He sneered and jeered at Lucy and kept on asking her if she’d found any other new countries in other cupboards all over the house. What made it worse was that these days ought to have been delightful. The weather was fine and they were out of doors from morning to night, bathing, fishing, climbing trees, and lying in the heather. But Lucy could not properly enjoy any of it.

  —The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe

  Why is it so hard for Lucy to say she’s made up her story about the wardrobe? Should she have done so to make things easier? Why do you think not being believed on this one point could ruin her enjoyment of everything she does with her brothers and sister? Have you ever experienced something so strange that people didn’t believe it was true? How did their disbelief make you feel?

  JANUARY 13

  The Voice

  IN THE DARKNESS something was happening at last. A voice had begun to sing. It was very far away and Digory found it hard to decide from what direction it was coming. Sometimes it seemed to come from all directions at once. Sometimes he almost thought it was coming out of the earth beneath them. Its lower notes were deep enough to be the voice of the earth herself. There were no words. There was hardly even a tune. But it was, beyond comparison, the most beautiful noise he had ever heard. It was so beautiful he could hardly bear it.

  —The Magician’s Nephew

  What does it mean for something to be so beautiful you can hardly bear it? What’s the closest experience you’ve had to that feeling?

  JANUARY 14

  Reacting to the Voice

  THERE WAS SOON LIGHT ENOUGH for them to see one another’s faces. The Cabby and the two children had open mouths and shining eyes; they were drinking in the sound, and they looked as if it reminded them of something. Uncle Andrew’s mouth was open too, but not open with joy. He looked more as if his chin had simply dropped away from the rest of his face. His shoulders were stooped and his knees shook. He was not liking the Voice. If he could have got away from it by creeping into a rat’s hole, he would have done so. But the Witch looked as if, in a way, she understood the music better than any of them. Her mouth was shut, her lips were pressed together, and her fists were clenched. Ever since the song began she had felt that this whole world was filled with a Magic different from hers and stronger. She hated it. She would have smashed that whole world, or all worlds, to pieces, if it would only stop the singing.

  —The Magician’s Nephew

  Why do you think each person reacted so differently? How do you think hearing such a powerful Voice would affect you?

  JANUARY 15

  I Just Know

  LOOK! LOOK! LOOK!” cried Lucy.

  “Where? What?” said everyone.

  “The Lion,” said Lucy. “Aslan himself. Didn’t you see?” Her face had changed completely and her eyes shone.

  “Do you really mean—?” began Peter.

  “Where did you think you saw him?” asked Susan.

  “Don’t talk like a grown-up,” said Lucy, stamping her foot. “I didn’t think I saw him. I saw him. . . . Right up there between those mountain ashes. . . . Just the opposite of the way you want to go. And he wanted us to go where he was—up there.”

  “How do you know that was what he wanted?” asked Edmund.

  “He—I—I just know,” said Lucy, “by his face.”. . .

  “Her Majesty may well have seen a lion,” put in Trumpkin. “There are lions in these woods, I’ve been told. But it needn’t have been a friendly and talking lion any more than the bear was a friendly and talking bear.”

  “Oh, don’t be so stupid,” said Lucy. “Do you think I don’t know Aslan when I see him?”

  “He’d be a pretty elderly lion by now,” said Trumpkin, “if he’s one you knew when you were here before! And if it could be the same one, what’s to prevent him having gone wild and witless like so many others?”

  Lucy turned crimson and I think she would have flown at Trumpkin, if Peter had not laid his hand on her arm. “The D.L.F. doesn’t understand. How could he? You must just take it, Trumpkin, that we do really know about Aslan; a little bit about him, I mean. And you mustn’t talk about him like that again. It isn’t lucky for one thing: and it’s all nonsense for another. The only question is whether Aslan was really there.”

  “But I know he was,” said Lucy, her eyes filling with tears.

  “Yes, Lu, but we don’t, you see,” said Peter.

  —Prince Caspian

  Why are the others having such a hard time believing Lucy? Do you often have to see with your own eyes to believe something?

  JANUARY 16

  The Vote

  THERE’S NOTHING FOR IT BUT A VOTE,” said Edmund.

  “All right,” replied Peter. “You’re the eldest, D.L.F. What do you vote for? Up or down?”

  “Down,” said the Dwarf. “I know nothing about Aslan. But I do know that if we turn left and follow the gorge up, it might lead us all day before we found a place where we could cross it. Whereas if we turn right and go down, we’re bound to reach the Great River in about a couple of hours. And if there are any real lions about, we want to go away from them, not toward them.”

  “What do you say, Susan?”

  “Don’t be angry, Lu,” said Susan, “but I do think we should go down. I’m dead tired. Do let’s get out of this wretched wood into the open as quick as we can. And none of us except you saw anything.”

  “Edmund?” said Peter.

  “Well, there’s just this,” said Edmund, speaking quickly and turning a little red. “When we first discovered Narnia a year ago—or a thousand years ago, whichever it is—it was Lucy who discovered it first and none of us would believe her. I was the worst of the lot, I know. Yet she was right after all. Wouldn’t it be fair to believe her this time? I vote for going up.”

  “Oh, Ed!” said Lucy and seized his hand.

  “And now it’s your turn, Peter,” said Susan, “and I do hope—”

  “Oh, shut up, shut up and let a chap think,” interrupted Peter. “I’d much rather not have to vote.”

  “You’re the High King,” said Trumpkin sternly.

  “Down,” said Peter after a long pause. “I know Lucy may be right after all, but I can’t help it. We must do one or the other.”

  —Prince Caspian

  Why is Edmund the only one to believe Lucy this time? Why do you think Peter makes the decision he does?

  JANUARY 17

  Lu, You’re a Hero

  I OUGHT TO HAVE MY HEAD SMACKED for bringing us this way at all,” said Peter.

  “On the contrary, your Majesty,” said the Dwarf. “For one thing it wasn’t you, it was your royal brother, King Edmund, who first suggested going by Glasswater.”

  “I’m afraid the D.L.F.’s right,” said Edmund, who had quite honestly forgotten this ever since things began going wrong.

  “And for another,” continued Trumpkin, “if we’d gone my way, we’d have walked straight into that new outpost, most likely; or at least had just the same trouble avoiding it. I think this Glasswater route has turned out for the best.”

  “A blessing in disguise,” said Susan.

  “Some disguise!” said Edmund.

  “I suppose we’ll have to go right up the gorge agai
n now,” said Lucy.

  “Lu, you’re a hero,” said Peter. “That’s the nearest you’ve got today to saying I told you so. Let’s get on.”

  —Prince Caspian

  Would you be able to resist the temptation to say “I told you so”? How is this heroic?

  JANUARY 18

  Are You Good at Believing Things?

  LOOK HERE, POLE, you and I hate this place about as much as anybody can hate anything, don’t we?”

  “I know I do,” said Jill [Pole].

  “Then I really think I can trust you.”

  “Dam’ good of you,” said Jill.

  “Yes, but this is a really terrific secret. Pole, I say, are you good at believing things? I mean things that everyone here would laugh at?”

  “I’ve never had the chance,” said Jill, “but I think I would be.”

  “Could you believe me if I said I’d been right out of the world—outside this world—last hols?”

  “I wouldn’t know what you meant.”

  “Well, don’t let’s bother about worlds then. Supposing I told you I’d been in a place where animals can talk and where there are—er—enchantments and dragons—and—well, all the sorts of things you have in fairy-tales.” [Eustace] Scrubb felt terribly awkward as he said this and got red in the face.

  “How did you get there?” said Jill. She also felt curiously shy.

  “The only way you can—by Magic,” said Eustace almost in a whisper. “I was with two cousins of mine. We were just—whisked away. They’d been there before.”

  Now that they were talking in whispers Jill somehow felt it easier to believe. Then suddenly a horrible suspicion came over her and she said (so fiercely that for the moment she looked like a tigress):

  “If I find you’ve been pulling my leg I’ll never speak to you again; never, never, never.”

  “I’m not,” said Eustace. “I swear I’m not. I swear by—by everything.”. . .