At the end of Chapter 8, after Diamond has awakened from his adventures in the cathedral, he goes out into the Coleman's garden to see the effects of the storm during which North Wind sank a ship, and he sees that a tree has fallen, smashing the summerhouse. A kindly clergyman is surveying the damages and, seeing Diamond, remarks to him that he wished we all lived at the back of the north wind. His interest piqued, Diamond asks where that is, to which the clergyman responds, "in the hyperborean regions. The hyperboreans of Greek mythology were a people reputed to live in an unidentified country in the far north, a people renowned as pious and divinely favored, adherents to the cult of Apollo.
In Chapter 9, when Diamond is again with North Wind, he asks to be taken to her back, she responds that would be very difficult for her since she is herself nobody there, i.e., there is no adversity of any kind whatsoever in heaven. She adds: "You'll be very glad some day to be nobody yourself. But you can't understand that now, and you'd better not try. If you do, you'll probably start imagining some outrageous nonsense and make yourself miserable about it" (86, 87).
MacDonald captures here a truth that is at the very heart of Christianity. It suggests the central paradigm of Christian experience, and the nature of God himself, for agape love is completely self giving. Christian conversion begins with a choosing of Christ over the self. Christ states this truth many times in such statements as "he that would gain his life shall lose it, and he that loses his life for my sake and the Gospels will gain it to life everlasting," and "if any one would come after me, let him deny himself, and take up his cross, and follow me." Being "nobody someday" depicts Christian maturity--which all Christians strive towards in this life but no one completely attains. It will be fully realized only in the afterlife.
It is important to grasp this truth. Most people have an ongoing inner quarrel within themselves, regretting or criticizing what they did over against their sense of what they should have done. The contemporary poet Dana Gioia has a provocative poem that captures an aspect of this inner unrest, which begins: "Just before noon I often hear a voice, / Cool and insistent, whispering in my head. / It is the better man I might have been, / Who chronicles the life I've never lead. / He cannot understand what grim mistake / Granted me life but left him still unborn. / He views his wayward brother with regret / And hardly bothers to disguise his scorn . . . ."
But such struggle is not the Christian ideal. Rather, it is to do one's best to forget about oneself: to be rid of self-concern altogether. The self is to be denied and forsaken. Attitudes of Christian love focus one's attention upon the desires of God and the needs of others, together with a willingness to do what is within one's power to do to meet those expectations and needs. One's best efforts are always inadequate, but the successful Christian life consists of that glad, on-going consciousness of God's presence in one's life, confession of one's shortcomings, claiming forgiveness, and gladly renewing one's efforts. His yoke is intended to be easy, his burden light. I think this is a part of what Christ had in mind when, in the Sermon on the Mount, he counsels: "do not worry about your life, what you will eat or drink; or about your body, what you will wear. . . . But seek first his kingdom and his righteousness . . . . Each day has enough trouble of its own" (Matt. 6:25, 33, 34).
After a difficult and strenuous journey, Diamond arrives at the threshold of the afterlife. While he is ill and in a deep dream or coma, North Wind puts him on a yacht and maneuvers it to sail into the wind. He momentarily loses her company, than finds her "sitting on her doorstep," and is told he must walk through her to enter into the land at her back. Some adversity--illness, accident, or whatever--precedes everyone's entry.
At the beginning of Chapter 10 the narrator announces his difficulty in describing Diamond's experiences there, for Diamond not only could not recall much about them, but also found extreme difficulty in describing anything he could recall. "Eye has not seen, nor ear heard, neither has it entered into the heart of man, what God has prepared for those who love him" (I Cor 2:9). One thinks of Paul's inability to describe any of his experience of being caught up into the "third heaven" (II Cor. 12). He said he heard inexpressible things, things which no man is permitted to tell. That he describes his experience in the third person--"I knew a man," he says--suggests the complete change of one's nature that must take place before a person can know the full joy of heaven. "When we see Him, we shall be like Him. . . " John remarks in I John 3. We shall all be changed, Paul assures us. When Christ spoke of the afterlife, he focused attention upon God, not on any descriptions, for oneness with God is the requisite and essential condition.
Diamond does have some vague recollections. He remembers a river there, and one may recall Psa. 46:4: "There is a river which makes glad the city of God." That a little daughter whom the gardener lost will one day return suggests the coming Resurrection, as does the fact that those whom Diamond met "looked as though they were waiting to be gladder some day." However, they are able to climb a certain tree and from that vantage point observe those whom they love on earth. MacDonald is echoing here Heb. 12:1: having recalled the great heroes of the faith who have gone before, the writer remarks: since we are surrounded by such a great cloud of witnesses. . . ." But Diamond doesn't care to return, because he feels as though he has never left it, and he wants to help those on earth whom he loves. This deep sense within him of the certainty of Christian hope and the crowning delight of its fulfillment is that which explains his motivations for his preternatural behavior in the ongoing episodes of the tale.
Having returned, Diamond learns that the ship North Wind sank was Mr. Coleman's, who is not such into economic woes. MacDonald muses: "It is a hard thing for a rich man to become poor, but it is an awful thing for him to become dishonest, and some kinds of business speculation lead a man deep into dishonesty before he realizes what he is doing. Poverty will not make a man worthless--he may be worth much more when he is poor than he was when he was rich; but dishonesty goes a long way toward making a man of no value at all" (Chapter 12). Economic poverty is a much more fertile soil that economic riches for the growing of spiritual fruit. MacDonald illustrates this principle throughout his writings.
The suggestion contained in the title of the story has now been fulfilled, but the story itself is but one-third over. What are MacDonald's intentions? They are, I think, twofold. He wants to develop the very important principle that a good grasp of Christian hope offers primary motivation for a person actively working in the world to effect good. He also wants to dismiss any notion that, in a world permeated and controlled by God's providence, a person may simply be a passive observer of God's working his will. The great truth is that Christian hope clearly grasped enables one to be a sacramental channel of grace to needy people in a world of spiritual poverty. God bestows upon willing people the great privilege of His working through them to accomplish His will.
So the child who is listening to this story being told receives a model of excellent behavior. One cannot but think by comparison of the dearth of proper models for young people in our culture today. Why so few? The primary reason is that our thoroughly materialistic society no longer believes--as MacDonald's Victorian did--in any transcendent spiritual reality, let alone Christian truth. So Diamond's selflessness seems ridiculous to most. The degenerative state of all the arts in today's culture, with the type of values most often commended, offers abundant evidence.
Sunday, September 30, 2012
Thursday, September 27, 2012
At the Back of the North Wind.2nd
The text contains a number of subtle references to Scripture. For the concept of North Wind herself, MacDonald must have had Job 30:22 - 23 in mind: "You snatch me up and drive me before the wind; you toss me about in the storm. I know you will bring me down to death, to the place appointed for all living" (NIV). These images are especially relevant to today's reading.
At the beginning of Chapter 4, North Wind tells Diamond, ". . . I'm afraid you might not be able to keep hold of me, and if I dropped you, I don't know what would happen; so I've made a place for you in my hair." Like most children, Diamond likes to feel ensconced in a small, cozy place, and he is delighted with the nest she weaves for him.
In Chapter 5, when she next takes him on a nocturnal journey, she startles Diamond into disbelief by announcing to him that tonight she must sink a ship. Incredulous, because he is confident she cannot be cruel, he wonders what will happen to those passengers who will be drowned. She assures him that he is right: she "can do nothing cruel, although I often do what looks cruel to those who don't know what I'm really doing." She only takes them to the back of the north wind, a place into which she cannot go (there will be no adversities whatsoever in heaven), and therefore about which she knows nothing. She differs in this regard from the great-great grandmother of the Curdie stories by having limited knowledge. "I get blind and deaf when I try to see my back," she says; "I only pay attention to my work."
Much is being suggested throughout this episode. MacDonald is indeed undertaking a difficult subject, but if he is to succeed in fully establishing in a child's mind a Biblical attitude towards all adversity, suffering, and death itself, he has little choice. The artistic deftness with which he accomplishes his task cannot but evoke much admiration.
He is endeavoring to honor the mystery of God's working in his world, a mystery that must remain as such until that time foreshadowed in Rev. 15:3 - 4, when the wrath of God has been complete and angels intone: "Great and marvelous are your deeds, Lord God Almighty. Just and true are your ways, King of the ages. Who will not fear you, O Lord, and bring glory to your name? For you alone are holy. All nations will come and worship before you, for your righteous acts have been revealed." Until that time one is to rest in the confidence that God can do nothing unjust.
In Chapter 6, when she is taking him out upon the night she is to arouse the ship-sinking storm, Diamond persists in voicing his dismay that sinking a ship is "not like you." She reminds him that the North Wind he knows is good, and since there cannot be "two mes," "the other me you don't know must be as kind as the me you do know." Diamond's submissive response is theologically nuanced: "I love you, and you must love me, or else why would I have started loving you? How could you know how to put on such a beautiful face if you did not love me and the rest? No. You may sink as many ships as you like . . . ."
When, at the beginning of Chapter 7, Diamond asks North Wind how she can stand sinking a ship, she responds that she is "always hearing . . . the sound of a far-off song" that "tells me everything is right, that it is coming to swallow up all cries," to the extent of swallowing up all the fear and pain of those to be drowned, so that they will sing it themselves.
For biblical justification for this theological position, MacDonald would not doubt point to such passages as Isaiah 45:6b,7: "I am the Lord, and there is no other. I form light and create darkness; I make weal and create woe; I the Lord do all these things;" and Amos 3:6: "Does disaster befall a city, unless the Lord has done it?" He is confident that nothing happens that is not motivated by his love and shaped by his justice, and that when the mystery of God's purposes is ultimately revealed, all nations shall worship Him, as stated in Rev. 15:3, 4 quoted above.
One cannot but recall Jeremiah's affirmation in Lamentations 3:19ff: "The thought of my affliction and my homelessness is wormwood and gall! My soul continually thinks of it and is bowed down within me. But this I call to mind, and therefore I have hope: The steadfast love of the Lord never ceases, his mercies never come to an end; they are new every morning; great is you faithfulness. . . . Although he cause grief, he will have compassion according to the abundance of his steadfast love; for he does not willingly afflict or grieve anyone."
A person cannot, of course, expect that MacDonald would erect a complete theological treatise in a children's story, but one cannot but admire the artistic deftness with which he does treat the subject.
If the reader wants a more complete examination of this very challenging issue, advancing a carefully thought through and theologically provocative handling of the subject, one is advised to consult David Bentley Hart's, The Doors of the Sea: Where Was God in the Tsunami?
To avoid Diamond's witnessing the sinking, North Wind deposits him in a cathedral while she executes her mission. When he finds himself on a narrow ledge high up in the dome and cannot feel North Wind's presence, he panics, then suddenly finds himself in North Wind's arms. Questioned as to why she left him, she replies "Because I wanted you to walk alone." She does not want to pamper a coward. "I wasn't brave by myself," he muse, "It was the wind that blew in my face that made me brave." "You had to be taught what courage was. And you couldn't know what it was without feeling it: therefore, courage was given you. . . . a beginning is the greatest thing of all. To try to be brave is to be brave."
Again, the truths here are powerful: Diamond's being made strong by North Wind's blowing in his face suggests the fact that experiencing adversities in a Christian spirit does serve to strengthen a person; and every person who would be virtuous must exercise courage to perform the virtue. One cannot name a Christian virtue that does not require moral courage to realize.When Diamond, dreaming in the cathedral, overhears two apostles complaining about the church having to perform acts of charity, he is certain they could not be true apostles, but sextons and vergers (gravediggers and janitors). Throughout his career MacDonald had a lover's quarrel, so to speak, with much that he saw as false in the established church, and he does not hesitate to instill in a child's mind that, while there is much that is beautiful in the church, there is also that which is inconsistent with a true Christian spirit.
At the beginning of Chapter 4, North Wind tells Diamond, ". . . I'm afraid you might not be able to keep hold of me, and if I dropped you, I don't know what would happen; so I've made a place for you in my hair." Like most children, Diamond likes to feel ensconced in a small, cozy place, and he is delighted with the nest she weaves for him.
In Chapter 5, when she next takes him on a nocturnal journey, she startles Diamond into disbelief by announcing to him that tonight she must sink a ship. Incredulous, because he is confident she cannot be cruel, he wonders what will happen to those passengers who will be drowned. She assures him that he is right: she "can do nothing cruel, although I often do what looks cruel to those who don't know what I'm really doing." She only takes them to the back of the north wind, a place into which she cannot go (there will be no adversities whatsoever in heaven), and therefore about which she knows nothing. She differs in this regard from the great-great grandmother of the Curdie stories by having limited knowledge. "I get blind and deaf when I try to see my back," she says; "I only pay attention to my work."
Much is being suggested throughout this episode. MacDonald is indeed undertaking a difficult subject, but if he is to succeed in fully establishing in a child's mind a Biblical attitude towards all adversity, suffering, and death itself, he has little choice. The artistic deftness with which he accomplishes his task cannot but evoke much admiration.
He is endeavoring to honor the mystery of God's working in his world, a mystery that must remain as such until that time foreshadowed in Rev. 15:3 - 4, when the wrath of God has been complete and angels intone: "Great and marvelous are your deeds, Lord God Almighty. Just and true are your ways, King of the ages. Who will not fear you, O Lord, and bring glory to your name? For you alone are holy. All nations will come and worship before you, for your righteous acts have been revealed." Until that time one is to rest in the confidence that God can do nothing unjust.
In Chapter 6, when she is taking him out upon the night she is to arouse the ship-sinking storm, Diamond persists in voicing his dismay that sinking a ship is "not like you." She reminds him that the North Wind he knows is good, and since there cannot be "two mes," "the other me you don't know must be as kind as the me you do know." Diamond's submissive response is theologically nuanced: "I love you, and you must love me, or else why would I have started loving you? How could you know how to put on such a beautiful face if you did not love me and the rest? No. You may sink as many ships as you like . . . ."
When, at the beginning of Chapter 7, Diamond asks North Wind how she can stand sinking a ship, she responds that she is "always hearing . . . the sound of a far-off song" that "tells me everything is right, that it is coming to swallow up all cries," to the extent of swallowing up all the fear and pain of those to be drowned, so that they will sing it themselves.
For biblical justification for this theological position, MacDonald would not doubt point to such passages as Isaiah 45:6b,7: "I am the Lord, and there is no other. I form light and create darkness; I make weal and create woe; I the Lord do all these things;" and Amos 3:6: "Does disaster befall a city, unless the Lord has done it?" He is confident that nothing happens that is not motivated by his love and shaped by his justice, and that when the mystery of God's purposes is ultimately revealed, all nations shall worship Him, as stated in Rev. 15:3, 4 quoted above.
One cannot but recall Jeremiah's affirmation in Lamentations 3:19ff: "The thought of my affliction and my homelessness is wormwood and gall! My soul continually thinks of it and is bowed down within me. But this I call to mind, and therefore I have hope: The steadfast love of the Lord never ceases, his mercies never come to an end; they are new every morning; great is you faithfulness. . . . Although he cause grief, he will have compassion according to the abundance of his steadfast love; for he does not willingly afflict or grieve anyone."
A person cannot, of course, expect that MacDonald would erect a complete theological treatise in a children's story, but one cannot but admire the artistic deftness with which he does treat the subject.
If the reader wants a more complete examination of this very challenging issue, advancing a carefully thought through and theologically provocative handling of the subject, one is advised to consult David Bentley Hart's, The Doors of the Sea: Where Was God in the Tsunami?
To avoid Diamond's witnessing the sinking, North Wind deposits him in a cathedral while she executes her mission. When he finds himself on a narrow ledge high up in the dome and cannot feel North Wind's presence, he panics, then suddenly finds himself in North Wind's arms. Questioned as to why she left him, she replies "Because I wanted you to walk alone." She does not want to pamper a coward. "I wasn't brave by myself," he muse, "It was the wind that blew in my face that made me brave." "You had to be taught what courage was. And you couldn't know what it was without feeling it: therefore, courage was given you. . . . a beginning is the greatest thing of all. To try to be brave is to be brave."
Again, the truths here are powerful: Diamond's being made strong by North Wind's blowing in his face suggests the fact that experiencing adversities in a Christian spirit does serve to strengthen a person; and every person who would be virtuous must exercise courage to perform the virtue. One cannot name a Christian virtue that does not require moral courage to realize.When Diamond, dreaming in the cathedral, overhears two apostles complaining about the church having to perform acts of charity, he is certain they could not be true apostles, but sextons and vergers (gravediggers and janitors). Throughout his career MacDonald had a lover's quarrel, so to speak, with much that he saw as false in the established church, and he does not hesitate to instill in a child's mind that, while there is much that is beautiful in the church, there is also that which is inconsistent with a true Christian spirit.
Thursday, September 13, 2012
At the Back of the North Wind.1st
George MacDonald: At the Back of the North Wind. First Session
MacDonald is undertaking an astounding task in this famous myth: he is purposing to instill within a child's mind a fully Biblical set of attitudes towards all trials and adversities in life, including death.
But first, some introductory remarks: I do recommend the recently published Anamchara edition. A remarkable number of variations do occur in the older texts; this one cautiously updates the language, removing diction that strikes the contemporary reader as curious, while very faithfully maintaining--in fact, I think strengthening--the mythic impact of the text.
The work is splendidly mythic. By that I mean that the images stretch the imagination to glimpse eternal truths, truths that are larger than the rational mind is able fully to express.
These are truths of the heart, not simply of the head. Truths of the head--by that I mean the sort of doctrinal truths that are presented in the great creeds of the Church--are of course of vital importance. But it is tragically possible to have a precise grasp of doctrinal realities in the head but not allow them residence in the heart.
Truths of the heart are simple, they are readily held or rejected, and they are available to all peoples. They alone matter; they define a person. As a person thinks in his heart, so is he. An exhaustive concordance of Scripture will contain multiple columns of references to the heart, whereas there are only a comparative few references to the mind as such.
One other introductory remark: Any worthwhile children's story is a story for adults as well. C. S. Lewis vehemently denies--in his essays on writing for children--that he set out to write for children. He insists that he wrote the Narnia stories as he did because he could say in a children's story what he could not say nearly so well in any other form. It is an enticing challenge to consider as you read precisely what MacDonald is able to say in At the Back of the North Wind that he could only have said in the precise form he chose.
It is necessary, in order fully to appreciate a children's story, that the adult reader try to recreate a child's mentality, and receive the narration and the images as a person did, say, at five or six years of age. I can remember an uncle telling me when I was that age, "If you want to catch a bird, the best way to do it is to put salt on his tail." At the time I thought that no doubt was reliable advice. It is that sort of innocence and credulity one should try to maintain as one reads. The story is not a puzzle to be solved; it is a tale to be received by a fully open and committed imagination. Let the mythic truths sneak in, as it were, quietly, through the back door.
Now to the text itself. As I remarked above, MacDonald is undertaking in this story to instill within a child's mind a fully Biblical set of attitudes towards all adversities in life, from the small aggravations all the way to death itself. It is consistently the case with MacDonald that he had Biblical truths solidly in mind as he wrote. Those that pertain to this tale are startling. James, for instance, begins his book by advising: "Consider it pure joy, my brothers, whenever you face trials of many kinds, because you know that the testing of your faith develops perseverance. Perseverance must finish its work so that you may be mature and complete. . . (1:2-4, NIV). Paul writes: ". . . we rejoice in the hope of the glory of God. Not only so, but we also rejoice in our sufferings, because we know that suffering produces perseverance; perseverance, character; and character, hope. And hope does not disappoint . . . ." (Rom. 5:3-5, NIV). Peter says something very similar in his first epistle, as does the writer of the Book of Hebrews. Anyone who seriously tries to implement these admonitions in daily life faces a challenging task. How does one instill such truths in the mind of a child? To contemplate that is to come into a fuller appreciation of MacDonald's undertaking.
Diamond has many lessons to learn, most all of which orchestrate the archetypal fact that in all of life appearances mask an underlying reality, a Reality that is gloriously benign. A trusting relation to North Wind is the basic requirement for Diamond coming into a knowledge of that reality: "You will be much the better for it. Just believe what I say, and do as I tell you" (12). When she reminds him at their first meeting that "knowing a person's name isn't the same as knowing a person's real self" (13), she is initiating the appearance/reality theme: a person's outward appearance is one thing, the nature of the "real self" within is quite another.
At the end of Chapter One North Wind gives the implications of the theme she wants to instill in Diamond: the appearances of her activities may be ugly, but they are necessary for her basic aim: to make "ugly things beautiful." She counsels: ". . . my hand will never change in yours if you hold on tight. If you hold on, you will know who I am even if you look at me and I look like something awful instead of like the North Wind." A great deal of theological truth is contained in this simple statement. One may think of Heb. 12:11: For the moment all discipline seems painful rather than pleasant; later it yields the peaceful fruit of righteousness to those who have been trained by it."
North Wind bids Diamond follow him, but when he obeys by going outside into Coleman's garden, he cannot find her. Deeply disappointed, he retreats, feeling she has not kept her word. But later he is told she really was there--in the breeze that gently moved the primroses. He must learn that North Wind comes in many forms, some quite mild. If a mild adversity can accomplish its purpose, there is no need for a stronger one. But he does discover that by far the wisest response when a wind is blowing is to keep it at one's back (20). The image suggests the wisdom of submissively responding to whatever life offers--"rolling with the blow"--rather than rebelling against and resisting that which is beyond one's control.
But Diamond is strongly tempted to dismiss these initial nocturnal encounters with North Wind as only dreams; that is, they have no reality in the material world of everyday life. North Wind, however, keeps coming to him, and, as he does what she tells him to, his confidence in her reality steadily grows.
Each succeeding visit North Wind makes reinforces in Diamond's mind the necessity for absolute trust in the face of the most dire appearances, confident that they have a good purpose. In Chapter 3, she tells him she has "unpleasant work tonight," and takes him with her as she appears as a wolf to a nurse who is mistreating a child, terrifying her and causing her to fall. Frightened himself when he hears the sound of the nurse falling, Diamond suspects North Wind of cruelty: "I hope you haven'st eaten a baby," he seriously remarks, to which she replies: "No, I didn't eat a baby. You wouldn't have had to ask that silly question if you hadn't let go of me."
Chapter 3 closes with MacDonald affirming a principle that recurs often in his writings: People are incapable of seeing more good that their natures allow them to see. North Wind explains that the nurse saw her as a wolf because of her evil nature: "The woman wouldn't have seen me either if she had been good. . . . Why should you see things that you wouldn't understand? Good people see good things: bad people, bad things. . . . I had to make myself look like a bad thing before she could see me." The Biblical principle MacDonald has in mind is given in Psalms 18, 25, 26. "With the loyal thou dost show thyself loyal; with the blameless man thou dost show thyself blameless; with the pure thou dost show thyself pure; and with the crooked thou dost show thyself perverse."
MacDonald is undertaking an astounding task in this famous myth: he is purposing to instill within a child's mind a fully Biblical set of attitudes towards all trials and adversities in life, including death.
But first, some introductory remarks: I do recommend the recently published Anamchara edition. A remarkable number of variations do occur in the older texts; this one cautiously updates the language, removing diction that strikes the contemporary reader as curious, while very faithfully maintaining--in fact, I think strengthening--the mythic impact of the text.
The work is splendidly mythic. By that I mean that the images stretch the imagination to glimpse eternal truths, truths that are larger than the rational mind is able fully to express.
These are truths of the heart, not simply of the head. Truths of the head--by that I mean the sort of doctrinal truths that are presented in the great creeds of the Church--are of course of vital importance. But it is tragically possible to have a precise grasp of doctrinal realities in the head but not allow them residence in the heart.
Truths of the heart are simple, they are readily held or rejected, and they are available to all peoples. They alone matter; they define a person. As a person thinks in his heart, so is he. An exhaustive concordance of Scripture will contain multiple columns of references to the heart, whereas there are only a comparative few references to the mind as such.
One other introductory remark: Any worthwhile children's story is a story for adults as well. C. S. Lewis vehemently denies--in his essays on writing for children--that he set out to write for children. He insists that he wrote the Narnia stories as he did because he could say in a children's story what he could not say nearly so well in any other form. It is an enticing challenge to consider as you read precisely what MacDonald is able to say in At the Back of the North Wind that he could only have said in the precise form he chose.
It is necessary, in order fully to appreciate a children's story, that the adult reader try to recreate a child's mentality, and receive the narration and the images as a person did, say, at five or six years of age. I can remember an uncle telling me when I was that age, "If you want to catch a bird, the best way to do it is to put salt on his tail." At the time I thought that no doubt was reliable advice. It is that sort of innocence and credulity one should try to maintain as one reads. The story is not a puzzle to be solved; it is a tale to be received by a fully open and committed imagination. Let the mythic truths sneak in, as it were, quietly, through the back door.
Now to the text itself. As I remarked above, MacDonald is undertaking in this story to instill within a child's mind a fully Biblical set of attitudes towards all adversities in life, from the small aggravations all the way to death itself. It is consistently the case with MacDonald that he had Biblical truths solidly in mind as he wrote. Those that pertain to this tale are startling. James, for instance, begins his book by advising: "Consider it pure joy, my brothers, whenever you face trials of many kinds, because you know that the testing of your faith develops perseverance. Perseverance must finish its work so that you may be mature and complete. . . (1:2-4, NIV). Paul writes: ". . . we rejoice in the hope of the glory of God. Not only so, but we also rejoice in our sufferings, because we know that suffering produces perseverance; perseverance, character; and character, hope. And hope does not disappoint . . . ." (Rom. 5:3-5, NIV). Peter says something very similar in his first epistle, as does the writer of the Book of Hebrews. Anyone who seriously tries to implement these admonitions in daily life faces a challenging task. How does one instill such truths in the mind of a child? To contemplate that is to come into a fuller appreciation of MacDonald's undertaking.
Diamond has many lessons to learn, most all of which orchestrate the archetypal fact that in all of life appearances mask an underlying reality, a Reality that is gloriously benign. A trusting relation to North Wind is the basic requirement for Diamond coming into a knowledge of that reality: "You will be much the better for it. Just believe what I say, and do as I tell you" (12). When she reminds him at their first meeting that "knowing a person's name isn't the same as knowing a person's real self" (13), she is initiating the appearance/reality theme: a person's outward appearance is one thing, the nature of the "real self" within is quite another.
At the end of Chapter One North Wind gives the implications of the theme she wants to instill in Diamond: the appearances of her activities may be ugly, but they are necessary for her basic aim: to make "ugly things beautiful." She counsels: ". . . my hand will never change in yours if you hold on tight. If you hold on, you will know who I am even if you look at me and I look like something awful instead of like the North Wind." A great deal of theological truth is contained in this simple statement. One may think of Heb. 12:11: For the moment all discipline seems painful rather than pleasant; later it yields the peaceful fruit of righteousness to those who have been trained by it."
North Wind bids Diamond follow him, but when he obeys by going outside into Coleman's garden, he cannot find her. Deeply disappointed, he retreats, feeling she has not kept her word. But later he is told she really was there--in the breeze that gently moved the primroses. He must learn that North Wind comes in many forms, some quite mild. If a mild adversity can accomplish its purpose, there is no need for a stronger one. But he does discover that by far the wisest response when a wind is blowing is to keep it at one's back (20). The image suggests the wisdom of submissively responding to whatever life offers--"rolling with the blow"--rather than rebelling against and resisting that which is beyond one's control.
But Diamond is strongly tempted to dismiss these initial nocturnal encounters with North Wind as only dreams; that is, they have no reality in the material world of everyday life. North Wind, however, keeps coming to him, and, as he does what she tells him to, his confidence in her reality steadily grows.
Each succeeding visit North Wind makes reinforces in Diamond's mind the necessity for absolute trust in the face of the most dire appearances, confident that they have a good purpose. In Chapter 3, she tells him she has "unpleasant work tonight," and takes him with her as she appears as a wolf to a nurse who is mistreating a child, terrifying her and causing her to fall. Frightened himself when he hears the sound of the nurse falling, Diamond suspects North Wind of cruelty: "I hope you haven'st eaten a baby," he seriously remarks, to which she replies: "No, I didn't eat a baby. You wouldn't have had to ask that silly question if you hadn't let go of me."
Chapter 3 closes with MacDonald affirming a principle that recurs often in his writings: People are incapable of seeing more good that their natures allow them to see. North Wind explains that the nurse saw her as a wolf because of her evil nature: "The woman wouldn't have seen me either if she had been good. . . . Why should you see things that you wouldn't understand? Good people see good things: bad people, bad things. . . . I had to make myself look like a bad thing before she could see me." The Biblical principle MacDonald has in mind is given in Psalms 18, 25, 26. "With the loyal thou dost show thyself loyal; with the blameless man thou dost show thyself blameless; with the pure thou dost show thyself pure; and with the crooked thou dost show thyself perverse."
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