In all our valleys the light is the same. And it's the light that matters

[sovay]

So I have a theological question.

I am re-reading Elizabeth Goudge's The Valley of Song (1951) for the nth time. It's one of the books where I notice different things with each reading; that's part of the reason it's her best book, although others include the beauty of the writing and the numinous generally busting out all over. This time, a line in the scene in which the protagonist is waiting outside the door to the Valley of Song (only children may enter this country which is called by mortals "Fairyland, or the Garden of Eden, or Arcadia, or the Earthly Paradise, or the Elysian Fields, or some such ridiculous name. We just call it the Workshop," so in order to let someone else go in, Tabitha has taken on some of their years as her own and is now too old herself to be allowed inside) sprang out at me:

Andrew turned to Tabitha, his face radiant. "I may go in!" he said, and he gripped her hand. "Come on, Tabitha."

Tabitha pulled her hand away and leaned against the wall, hiding her face, and the same misery that had overwhelmed her when Julie went in without her came over her again. This dreadful shut-out and cast-away feeling! She had never felt so wretched. She had not known one could feel so miserable. Her voice came to Andrew from behind her hands, muffled and forlorn. "I can't go in with you. I'm too old."

"Too old? You can't be!" said Andrew, and he pulled her hands away from her face.

"Five years too old!" sobbed Tabitha. "I'm fifteen. I can't go in."

There was a long and anguished silence, while Andrew struggled to make up his mind about something, then he took a deep breath. "Then I'm not going in either," he said. "If you're shut out, I'll be shut out too."

Tabitha liked to hear him say that. It was almost worth being shut out to hear him say that. The door swung wide and a great breath of life-giving air blew through it.

"Come in, both of you," said the splendid voice, and there was almost a note of celestial impatience in its splendour. "Little girl, you carried that burden well, but long enough for a child. Come in and be with him. He'll need firm handling. Boy, you were ready to be exiled with her, and the readiness is all. Am I to be until the Last Trump holding this door open?"

Those of you who have read Mary Renault may be nodding already, because this is a concept I learned first from The King Must Die (1958):

"Horses go blindly to the sacrifice, but the gods give knowledge to men. When the King was dedicated, he knew his moira. In three years, or seven, or nine, or whenever the custom was, his term would end and the god would call him. And he went consenting, or else he was no king, and power would not fall on him to lead the people. When they came to choose among the Royal Kin, this was his sign: that he chose short life with glory, and to walk with the god, rather than live long, unknown like the stall-fed ox. And the custom changes, Theseus, but this token never. Remember, even if you do not understand . . . It is not the sacrifice, whether it comes in youth or age, or the god remits it; it is not the bloodletting that calls down power. It is the consenting, Theseus. The readiness is all."

Where does this idea originate? Is it as simple as going back to the Binding of Isaac: that it was enough for Abraham to be willing to sacrifice his son? Is there a more complicated aetiology I don't know about, or a particularly Christian significance that would have been important to Goudge? I happen to believe it, just as I believe that an unconsenting sacrifice has no power (see Peter S. Beagle's The Last Unicorn (1968): "Real magic can never be made by offering someone up else's liver. You must tear out your own, and not expect to get it back. The true witches know that"), and I think it is not an uncommon belief. But I don't know where it comes from, if it doesn't come from the story I thought of first, and I'm curious.

Comments

[sovay]

The midrashim generally make him a willing participant, both by taking particular note of chronology in a way that makes him 37 (thus stronger than his aged father) and in at least one text (I'm too lazy, and too covering in sleeping baby, to look up which/how many versions) have him tell Abraham to bind him so that he won't unwillingly flinch and spoil the sacrificial cut.

Thank you! That is the sort of thing I was hoping someone on my friendlist knew.

(Hello, sleeping baby.)

[ladymondegreen.livejournal.com]

Thank you! It wasn't in either of the collections I owned, but it felt exactly like the sort of thing he would have retold. The problem is that I really feel I encountered it first in a fictional context that wasn't Wiesel, and that could be almost anyone.

You're welcome. I only read Captive Soul for the first time this spring, so it's reasonably fresh in my memory (and it was eerily resonant for me in some ways that impact my novel-in-progress).

Out of curiosity, which two do you own? I have Elijah's Violin, Miriam's Tambourine from childhood and I recently acquired Leaves from the Garden of Eden and a few others I haven't read yet from my father's library on semi-permanent loan. Also, Tree of Souls which I've been using as a reference work for ages.

[movingfinger.livejournal.com]

How is the situation resolved?

A priest perceives that the intended sacrifice has no idea what Ragnar has promised him for and determines that in fact he is not a willing sacrifice. Therefore, the offering is refused.

Nothing bad happens to Ragnar for trying to game the system; he is not shamed or shunned. A member of the extended family/household volunteers for the sacrifice in order to secure the blessing for everyone that a full nine-man sacrifice to Odin is believed to bring.

The show is a bit soapy, and I used FF a bit to get through some of it, but it's got some good earnest bits in it. And Aslaug's shieldmaidens are great.

[sovay]

I only read Captive Soul for the first time this spring, so it's reasonably fresh in my memory (and it was eerily resonant for me in some ways that impact my novel-in-progress).

In a good way, I hope. I still desire to read this novel.

Out of curiosity, which two do you own?

The Diamond Tree: Jewish Tales from Around the World (1992) and The Day the Rabbi Disappeared: Jewish Holiday Tales of Magic (2000). There were several more of his books in my elementary school library that I would like to own someday; Elijah's Violin and Lilith's Cave were among them.

Also, Tree of Souls which I've been using as a reference work for ages.

I should get that.

[sovay]

Nothing bad happens to Ragnar for trying to game the system; he is not shamed or shunned. A member of the extended family/household volunteers for the sacrifice in order to secure the blessing for everyone that a full nine-man sacrifice to Odin is believed to bring.

So what I want to know is whether this emphasis on consent is consistent with Viking sacrificial practice or whether it's a tweak on the screenwriters' part to make the practice of human sacrifice more sympathetic to a modern audience. Because we understand self-sacrifice: it's a heroic standard. Sacrificing other people is pretty strictly a marker of villainy if not outright evil. I'm not saying it never happens, but I am often suspicious when the moral codes of the past align comfortably with our own.

[edit] So I've got a review of an article I can't get access to indicating that Viking sacrifices were less voluntary in ways that can't just be filtered as the prejudice of Christian/Muslim sources. It looks like the author has similar reservations. I'd like to read the article, but the gist of the review makes sense to me. Again, I am not saying that consent/assent/willingness was unimportant to Norse religion—Týr put his hand in the Fenris-wolf's mouth of his own choosing—but I know it's important to our culture, and we're the ones telling this story.

(Incidentally, that issue looks awesome. I would love to read about the ethics of Halloween, Daenerys Targaryen, The Elder Scrolls IV: Oblivion, Beowulf, and Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows. Dammit, I miss my Yale proxy.)

The show is a bit soapy, and I used FF a bit to get through some of it, but it's got some good earnest bits in it. And Aslaug's shieldmaidens are great.

I've been seeing gifs of it on Tumblr for the last couple of years. Visually, at least, it looks great.

[sovay]

It must float around, because my late grandfather, a United Church of Canada (similar to United Methodists) minister, quoted it in the intro to his memoirs.

Neat. It is a powerful and a resonant story; I'm not entirely surprised. (Are his memoirs published?)

[sovay]

That's a great thought.

I like it. And I don't remember it from the version I read first, but I think it's important.

[sovay]

I don't know if this helps you figure out where you saw it, but I first heard it read aloud by the rabbi conducting High Holy Days services at the MIT Hillel.

This story appears to be everywhere! Which is fair; it's great.

[movingfinger.livejournal.com]

There was a wonderful background bit in one of them when people are preparing for a voyage, much business on the beach, and four shieldmaidens are visible apparently making themselves ritually fit to go to sea by gravely passing a basin from one to the other by rinsing their mouths and spitting and clearing their noses, so they are cleanly and inoffensive (I assume).

Oh, I remember also there's another willing sacrifice, a woman, but she's drugged to the gills. I don't remember the circumstances (there are a lot of deaths in this series).

The series is on Amazon Prime for streaming, so if you have that or access to it, have a look. Skipping the credits and any recap makes it much more manageable.

[sovay]

Oh, I remember also there's another willing sacrifice, a woman, but she's drugged to the gills. I don't remember the circumstances (there are a lot of deaths in this series).

I was in the process of editing my latest reply to you when your comment came in, so I'll just put it here:

Although the review's description of the incident in Ibn Fadlan sounds more like an issue of revoking consent: at first the girl volunteered, but there's no way out built into the ritual for a sacrifice who changes their mind; once she's committed herself, she has to go through with it, whatever the brutality required to kill a person who resists rather than waits for their death. And in fact, according to this translation, that's what we're looking at here: "Having said this ['Who among you will die with him?'–'I shall'], it becomes incumbent upon the person and it is impossible ever to turn back. Should that person try to, he is not permitted to do so. It is usually slave-girls who make this offer." Which goes along with steepholm's suggestion that a willing sacrifice is the ideal, and if the actuality doesn't live up to it, that's not something the ritual acknowledges. Conscious and consenting, high to the point of not caring, or terrified and fighting, the girl is sacrificed just as if she were looking forward to it.

[movingfinger.livejournal.com]

Another Vikingish incident of self-sacrifice, or at least Scandinavian, is Odin's sacrifice of himself on the world-tree for knowledge of the runes, as described in the Hávamál.

[sovay]

These things don't prove consent but rather suggest it.

I'm willing to believe it's a very old idea: steepholm suggests that it's the ideal, if not always the achievable practice.

Do you have any information about prehistoric instances of human sacrifice? [edit] I don't think of the Iron Age as prehistory, but I understand this might be a difference in definitions.

[sovay]

It surely can't be only springing from a biblical tradition; it must occur anywhere that people think about sacrifice.

Agreed. I was looking at Biblical traditions because Elizabeth Goudge is a Christian writer and because the Binding of Isaac was the first story I thought of where the willingness alone is enough; the sacrifice is not required. If you can think of others, Biblical or not, I'd love to hear them.

but especially in the case of a personally undertaken sacrifice, the two most powerful components seem to be that it's a genuine sacrifice (i.e., it doesn't count to offer up something you don't care about) and that you're doing it with full consent.

Publius Decius Mus at the battle of Vesuvius, dedicating himself to the gods of the underworld and annihilating the enemy. Devotio can only be done with your own life, not with anyone else's. You think it's just in the zeitgeist of how we think about sacrifice, then?

[asakiyume.livejournal.com]

. You think it's just in the zeitgeist of how we think about sacrifice, then?

I do, but I'm sure someone's evidence to the contrary could sway me.

The Isaac case is a complicated one, for me. It's Abraham's genuine sacrifice, and a huge loss to him, but he's not the one that's dying. And Isaac doesn't know what's going on (or hell, probably he has an idea, but in the story we don't get it from his point of view), and so he can't be willing (no informed consent). So for me, it's not clear whether that's a willing sacrifice or an unwilling one. The person who's losing the most is Isaac, it seems to me... so I'm leaning toward its being an unwilling sacrifice.

[fidelioscabinet.livejournal.com]

But when Jephthah's daughter finds out about his vow, she goes willingly.

A Roman example would be Marcus Curtius (Livy book 7, chapter 6), who leapt fully armed into the chasm; I think the year was supposed to be BCE 362, so it's not terribly old.

[sovay]

And Isaac doesn't know what's going on (or hell, probably he has an idea, but in the story we don't get it from his point of view), and so he can't be willing (no informed consent).

debka_notion mentions above that in the midrash Isaac is both knowing and consenting, which strongly suggests that aspect was important to the people receiving the story.

In the oldest version, the fact that the Akedah is a test of Abraham rather than Isaac implies that his willingness was not that important, either emotionally or ritually. From a modern perspective, I don't think any child sacrifice can be.

[sovay]

But when Jephthah's daughter finds out about his vow, she goes willingly.

Yes; that's fair to point out. I'm just trying to think of stories where the consenting alone is sufficient.

A Roman example would be Marcus Curtius (Livy book 7, chapter 6), who leapt fully armed into the chasm; I think the year was supposed to be BCE 362, so it's not terribly old.

Thank you; I hadn't remembered him! My first thought for Roman self-sacrifice is Publius Decius Mus at the Battle of Vesuvius, consecrating himself to the gods of the underworld and winning with his death an annihilating victory. (Supposedly his son and according to some stories his grandson did the same.)

[sovay]

is it a story about God's infinite mercy (he'll accept the sacrifice no matter how etiolated and malformed because he's that kind of person he is) or about a paring away to the the essentials - revealing the ritual accoutrments as utlimately disposable props?

I read it closer to the latter, but that's partly because it accords with my own beliefs: the actions of ritual are important, but the remembrance and the intent of them moreso. I agree that standing around in a forest with all the right equipment and no idea of the meaning feels like a recipe for still standing around hours later with nothing happening except maybe the goat has eaten the paper and the fire's burnt out.

Another parallel! Reepicheep's tail is restored after the other mice say they'll cut their own tails off in solidarity. That's in Dawn Treader, just a couple of years after Goudge.

It's in Prince Caspian, published in the same year! Is there a common ancestor?

[steepholm.livejournal.com]

I feel sorry for the ram. "Today is going from bad to worse. First I get caught in a thicket, and now this!"

[steepholm.livejournal.com]

Of course it was Prince Caspian! And even Dawn Treader would only have been one year later - I'm covered in blushes.

Is there a common ancestor?

I don't know, but if I were to fish in the shallow lake of pop psychology I might mention the fact that both suffered a bereavement in that year, of elderly women to whose care they'd been devoting themselves for a long time: her mother for Goudge, Mrs Moore for Lewis. Might there be an element palliating survivor guilt in these stories - that it's okay, you don't have to sacrifice yourself (any more)?

[asakiyume.livejournal.com]

Hahaha! Seriously: "bad luck: I got caught in a thicket. good luck: someone pulled me out. bad luck: ...."

[ethelmay.livejournal.com]

IIRC (dredging here), there are a number of people who believe the point of the story is that Abraham failed the test, that he should not have been willing to blindly sacrifice his son.

[sovay]

IIRC (dredging here), there are a number of people who believe the point of the story is that Abraham failed the test, that he should not have been willing to blindly sacrifice his son.

Do you know if the people who believe this are Jewish? (For obvious reasons, it's the sort of thing I would weigh differently as an in-group assessment than an out-group one.)

[ethelmay.livejournal.com]

Definitely some Jews have believed this, though I'm not sure whether I first met the idea in a Jewish context myself.

http://www.reformjudaism.org/blog/2013/09/03/akeidah-abraham-failed-gods-test-god-loved-him-anyway

http://www.stltoday.com/lifestyles/faith-and-values/civil-religion/hyim-shafner/did-abraham-fail-the-ultimate-test/article_d5ebdeae-1090-11e1-9012-0019bb30f31a.html

http://www.kohentahor.com/akeidat-yitzchak-the-binding-of-isaac-abraham-failed/

https://books.google.com/books?id=sM2pK8tlNa4C&pg=PA119

[sovay]

Definitely some Jews have believed this, though I'm not sure whether I first met the idea in a Jewish context myself.

Thanks!