I read Ivanhoe two summers ago as part of a binge through British literature – that is, literature written by actual Brits, and literature about the Brits written by others. My literature course for the school year took a plunge into the Kings of Britain and the legends of Arthur, so I thought it only proper to supplement my knowledge in what was already a favorite subject of mine. Early Britain fascinates me, and I especially like seeing history with Christian threads woven in, such as Lawhead’s work.
One such book I encountered as I swept the territory from the Eagle of the Ninth to Richard the Lionhearted was Ivanhoe, a gift from my mother. Written by Sir Walter Scott in 1819 and set in the 12th century, it follows the adventures of a varied cast of characters, one of the foremost being the aforementioned knight, Ivanhoe. Written in something fairly close to Middle English but a good bit more decipherable than the Faerie Queene, it’s a bit difficult for one not accustomed to ‘thees’ and ‘thous’ and ‘hasts.’ But it wasn’t bad. I thoroughly enjoyed Scott’s writing style, as well as his characters, and the creative take on Robin Hood. There are a fair share of variations out there, of course, but this particular one could fit more or less with the classic tales, with Robin Hood, or Locksley, as he is called, making a few cameo appearances here and there, but also interacting with the disguised King Richard, something that never happened in any of the tales I’ve yet read. So if your cup of tea is poetic language, knights, Robin Hood, and damsels in distress, this is the book for you. I’m not a fan of the damsels trope myself, (no, characters shouldn’t be irritating tough chicks, but the girl could at least try and resist being kidnapped) but there was enough of other good tropes – disguised king, brother-like male friendships, etc, to keep me engaged.
One particular trope – or perhaps, an archetype – was employed which I’d like to discuss a bit: the returning king. We see it with Richard, but also with Aragorn, Aslan, Geth, Smalls, and others. Why is this particularly of interest to me?
“Enemy-occupied territory – that is what this world is. Christianity is the story of how the rightful king has landed, you might say landed in disguise, and is calling us to take part in a great campaign of sabotage.” ― C.S. Lewis, Mere Christianity
Please bear with me, because things are about to get philosophical. Archetypes are ‘pure forms,’ or repeating patterns. Types of characters and elements consistent over literature through time and across the planet. We recognize archetypes, even if we don’t know what they are. We’ve all watched a movie where a creepy old crone enters near the beginning or a hooded graybeard with a staff shows up, and immediately thought ‘witch’ or ‘mentor.’ Even though love interests and mentors come in different shapes and sizes, they still have a function and traits that we pick up on and link with other characters. They’re built off of generalizations that are generally right, like ‘the old are generally wise’ or ‘the witch could be helpful but there’s probably a dangerous catch.’ That’s archetype. They’re visible in glimpses here and there beneath the threads of plots and characters, and like all good literature should, they point ahead, point to truth.
Many have speculated on their nature, and why they’re built into so many stories. Jung said it was collective unconsciousness (inherited memories and knowledge buried deep in the mind and passed on to the next generation.) I don’t deny that some of Jung’s work, such as his 12 personalities, is beneficial as an author. Understanding archetypes and being able to analyze literature for them is an aid in pulling out the themes of stories, or twisting tropes to make them interesting and surprising. However, I use personality typing only for generalizing purposes, to narrow down my characters and understand some basic fears and weaknesses they might have. Obviously, everyone is special and different, made in God’s image, and good characters ought to reflect that. Plus, as Jung (and many of his psychologist colleagues) were limited by his worldview, the personality types tend to view humans as animalistic, simple creatures driven by selfish urges. Yes, man is selfish, but he is complicated, and certainly no base animal. No mere mortal could ever possibly comprehend in full the stunning handiwork of the Creator that is man’s mind and soul.
Plus, all of Jung’s various theories should be viewed with a grain of salt, considering his philosophical and spiritual background and biases. Jung was into a bunch of hokey eastern religion stuff, hung out with some really bad dudes like Freud and Reich, and was definitely not Christian. You’ll find that much out just by browsing an internet article on him. In fact, he blames similarities in religions on this idea of universally-held root ideas. This thinking has deeply infiltrated modern psychology and seems to be the lens Jordan Peterson views his study of the Bible through. The general idea is to assume a priori that the teachings of all religions are scattered fragments of truth, but no single one ever is the Truth. As with all athiestic worldviews, it fails to explain why certain things are good and true, and others evil and false.
However, it seems logical to postulate that this effect, i.e. that such similarities as a dying god and a creator god held true across time, culture, and geography, has a cause. Given that, of course, reality shows that there are never effects without causes (my thanks to Frank Turek for explaining this brilliant argument.) In this case, one true Dying, Creator God.
“Now the story of Christ is simply a true myth: a myth working on us the same way as the others, but with this tremendous difference that it really happened: and one must be content to accept it in the same way, remembering that it is God’s myth where the others are men’s myths: i.e., the Pagan stories are God expressing Himself through the minds of poets, using such images as He found there, while Christianity is God expressing Himself through what we call ‘real things’.” ― C.S. Lewis
Plato postulated the idea that all material things are but shadows of a pure form that exists somewhere — for instance, though chairs vary in appearance, they’re all shadows of some perfect chair. That’s why we can recognize them even if they look different. Christianity fundamentally rejects this gnostic sort of denial of the material, and I don’t believe in Platonic ‘pure forms,’ i.e. a perfect chair just hovering in space somewhere. But all truth is God’s truth, and there’s a useful metaphor in Plato’s cave allegory and idea of the shadowlands. Of course, for the Christian, the shadowlands better represent our sojourn on earth, or the blindness of our sin, whereas the above world is the world of truth revealed. In this case, archetypes scattered across film and literature are shadow-forms of something greater, be that a practical bit of wisdom or an eternal truth.
Which seems more likely, that these ideas and types consistent across history and geography have just coincidentally always been around, for no particular reason? Or that archetypes exist because there is a Truth out there that they all harken back to? We get derivatives from pure forms. We can’t have peanut M&Ms or caramel M&Ms without first having basic M&Ms. It’s like a book that was made into a movie, and then the movie was remade ten years later, and then memes were created — it’s fragments of the same thing, just colored in a different light.
The type of the returning king, like other archetypes, points to some truth. When that particular archetype resonates with us, it is resonating with the part of us that yearns for a Savior, for one to come and restore, to tear down the evil done and build up good in its place. It resonates with our ingrained knowledge that we are broken. That something is wrong. That we are not enough.
Some people see the Bible as just another story, with meaningful archetypes, but no pure form. No real world above the cave. No life-changing truth. Rather, the Bible is the source of archetypes. It tells of the greatest truths ever. It tells of the true returning king.
Not only has our rightful King already landed, He’s coming for us. Justice will be restored better than King Richard could ever do. Evil will be chased away by One more powerful than Aragorn.
We love stories about returning kings, about things being set right and bad guys being chased away. Why? Because one day Jesus is returning, and everyone will bow before Him. Satan and his demons shall be cast into the lake of fire and we shall be ushered into a brilliant, beautiful, joy-filled eternity better than any restored kingdom a storyteller could imagine.
Never forget that. We let ourselves become jaded. Buried under the demands of each day. Blinded by our plans and worries and considerations of all the physical things.
Take a moment to remember. We won’t always be under the dominion of the usurper, the robber prince. Our king is coming. He has not forgotten us.
Sometimes we wonder why He hasn’t returned yet. Why we must remain and suffer. But He is a patient king, and He’s giving His subjects time to be restored, to come back under His banner, before the final battle. I am glad that He did not return before the day I was born. The day any of my friends and family were born. And if He were to return now, there are many I know who would not be able to rejoice in that restored kingdom.
Our King is coming, my friends. Find that hope in the archetype of the returning king, and cherish it. Let your stories reflect that truth, and shine it bright.
Have a wonderful week.
Cheers!
P.S. Ivanhoe, by the way, is a read I’d recommend. In the typical fashion of Victorian literature, we don’t get any blood or guts. There are wounds, but they are mentioned nearly in passing. Sure, the wounds may not be nice to picture, but the writing doesn’t take any extra steps to supplement your imagination. There are a few instances of language, but also not like what we’d see today – mostly of the ‘meant-something-else-back-then’ variety. Not nice all the same, but rather commonplace. There are also instances where threat of rape is implied, but nothing ever happens.
In its own way, Ivanhoe also has humor – mostly of a subtle kind consisting of jabs and Dickens-like sarcasm in the description, but there is also this little bit of dialogue, and purposeful or not, it made me snicker.
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‘Die the death?’ Struggling with the English language, are we?
Jokes aside, if you’re planning to do something along the lines of what I did, Ivanhoe would be great to fit in after your Beowulf, Arthurian legends, and Lawhead’s Hood trilogy, but before things set up later along the timeline – say, anything else about Richard, John, and the Crusades. I haven’t read much set after that. I lose interest until William Wallace, discard it again, and then pick it up again somewhere about the time of Dickens and Stevenson. The Victorian era was cool, ya’ll.
P. P. S. If you’re like me and like to nerd out learning about worldviews and philosophies, this makes for great further reading: https://www.gotquestions.org/Jungian-analytic-psychology.html
