This is a tentative outline of upcoming posts laying out my discussion of hospitality as the soil for lament. You can read the impetus here.
The first set of posts will give background information on hospitality from ancient, medieval, and biblical perspectives. If time permits, I plan to take the time to examine how the meaning of the term "hospitality" has changed to our present understanding. For certain I will show the connection between hospitality and lament from the Latin root word "hospitalis".
The second series of posts gives a broad overview of suffering historically and biblically. I'm indebted to Tim Keller and his thorough coverage in Walking with God through Pain and Suffering.
The next series will cover the practice of lament from ancient through present times.
A fourth series explores the practices of lament as seen in the record of protestant Bibles. I hope at some time in the future to look at other traditions as well.
A smaller series will look at how, and if, various protestant traditions, have included lament within their times of corporate and private worship.
A post or two will feature Andy Crouch's suggestion that lament is the seedbed of creativity.
The last of the posts will examine how each of the Narnia books show us lament practiced within hospitality.
Why the Chronicles of Narnia? Reading, and re-reading, the Narnian tales as an adult can be a vastly different experience than reading as a child. As C. S. Lewis, author of the Narnian tales, these stories allow us to
"steal past a certain inhibition which had paralysed much of my own religion in childhood. Why did one find it so hard to feel as one was told one ought to feel about God or the sufferings of Christ? I thought the chief reason was that one was told one ought to. An obligation to feel can freeze feelings. And reverence itself did harm. The whole subject was associated with lowered voices; almost as if it were something medical. But supposing that by casting all these things into an imaginary world, stripping them of their stained-glass and Sunday School associations, one could make them for the first time appear in their real potency? Could one not thus steal past those watchful dragons? I thought one could.” 1
When someone is paralyzed, it is difficult to grow physically, emotionally or spiritually. These stories can show us our paralysis. On a personal note, when reading The Horse and His Boy, particularly the chapter, "The Unwelcome Fellow Traveler", I finally saw God's sovereignty of goodness and generosity in my own life, not the begrudging god I had created and which had paralyzed me, when Aslan invites Shasta to "Tell me your sorrows." As we see a little further in the story, Aslan full well knew Shasta's sorrows and his questions, but Shasta's re-telling was necessary for Shasta to acknowledge his hurt and paralysis and Aslan to give comfort and freedom.
Some have noted the overuse of and overreliance on Lewis's works, and some even go as far as to dismiss him, his works, and those within the Inklings universe due to that overuse and overreliance. To those, I say, abusus non tollit usum.2 It seems from the quote above my use would be in line with his purposes.
1. C. S Lewis, "Sometimes Fairy Stories May Say Best What’s to be Said" in On Words and other Essays on Literature, ed. Walter Hooper (Harvest, 1982) pg. 47
2. Misuse of something is no argument against its proper use
