Becoming like a Child...
Christ & the children in books by Elizabeth Goudge
“Our Lord was no stranger to them. He had come so often to Bethany and they knew him so well. He was the man who told such wonderful stories, who was always so pleased to see them and with whom they felt so safe. And so they all came tumbling gladly into the courtyard, gay as a lot of bright-plumaged little birds, some of them carrying wilting bunches of spring flowers they had picked for him, or some treasure they wanted to show him clutched in a hot fist…”
Elizabeth Goudge, God So Loved the World
Two Goudge books
In 1951, Elizabeth Goudge published two books in the same year. She was nursing her ailing mother who was at death’s door, and writing away at both God So Loved the World and also a children’s book—The Valley of Song. These two books, both on her desk at the same time, certainly speak to one another about the mysteries of love, grief and longing. Today we will take a look at Goudge’s theology in one, which gave rise to a story plot in the other.
“They came to Bethany and rested there. Was it at Bethany that there occurred one of the loveliest incidents of Our Lord's life, an incident which artists love so much and have painted sc many times? The happiness of it seems to fall into place here, upon this happy journey.”
Elizabeth Goudge, God So Loved the World
Christ & the Children
In God So Loved the World in chapter nine, Goudge gives us a beautiful narrative of the story of Jesus blessing the children:
“Our Lord was sitting in the courtyard of Martha's house, resting in the shade, when some village mothers brought their children to him that the great Rabbi who had raised Lazarus from the dead might bless them. The mothers would have been shy, but bright-eyed and eager, with that glowing softness on their faces which mothers have when they are bringing their baby to someone who agrees with them that this child is the wonder of the world. The newest babies would have been in their arms, the ex-babies, who had had their faces scrubbed, would have been staggering along clutching their mothers' skirts; or if they were too young to stagger reposing themselves regally in the aching arms of little elder sisters. The older boys and girls would have been as happy and bright-eyed as their mothers. For Our Lord was no stranger to them. He had come so often to Bethany and they knew him so well. He was the man who told such wonderful stories, who was always so pleased to see them and with whom they felt so safe. And so they all came tumbling gladly into the courtyard, gay as a lot of bright-plumaged little birds, some of them carrying wilting bunches of spring flowers they had picked for him, or some treasure they wanted to show him clutched in a hot fist.
But the disciples who were with Our Lord, their heads full of the glories that were coming, saw no reason why their Master, so soon to be a great king, should be bothered with a lot of little village urchins, and they rebuked the mothers who were bringing them, only to be sternly rebuked themselves by their Lord. Had he not just told them that he had come not to be ministered unto but to minister? And he held out his arms to the children and cried, "Suffer the little children to come unto me and forbid them not; for of such is the kingdom of God." Strait is the gate and narrow is the way that leads to the kingdom of heaven. The path is narrow as the needle's eye, the kind of little path that children love, the gate small and easy for them to unlatch, the lintel above it adjusted to the height of a child. The path is too narrow for covetous men burdened with possessions, the gate so small that the self-engrossed walk past it without even noticing it, the lintel so low that no proud head can bend itself low enough to get underneath. Worldly growth is an expanding process, a building up and a swelling out, but the paradox of spiritual growth is a refining process; we have to shed one layer of useless and grubby accretion after another until there is nothing left at all but the golden kernel of a child's humble, loving, and contrite heart.
"Verily I say unto you," said Our Lord, "indeed and indeed I say unto you, Whosoever shall not receive the kingdom of God as a little child, he shall not enter therein."1
The Valley of Song
In Goudge’s children’s book, The Valley of Song, she used the criteria for entry to heaven (in bold in the quote above) as the plot for the entry to the magical land called the Valley of Song. She mentions in God So Loved the World the humility to bed through a low door, the loving and contrite heart of a child, and this she weaves right into her story.
Here is the scene when the ship builder, Anthony Peregrine, comes to the the door in the quarry which guards the world-between-worlds that is the Valley of Song:
“After Mr. Peregrine had bounded out of the chaise he ran down the lane, through the sweetbrier hedge and down the path into the quarry, at such a pace that he was only fleetingly aware of the boy who came leaping lightly up to meet him, a slim and beautiful boy, all fire and grace. Although he was so young, he was something of a beau already, for his chestnut curls were tumbled upon his broad forehead in purposeful elegance, and there were ruffles to his bottle-green coat and silver buckles on his shoes. But Mr. Peregrine had only the one glimpse of his fresh young beauty before the fire was pulsing in his own blood and the lightness was in his own limbs, and the bright eyes were showing him the blue sky and the green leaves and the sparkling stream all washed and new as when the world was young. He saw the little low door, and took a flying leap right over the stream towards it, Mignon leaping after him, but when he got to the door he stood very humbly on its threshold, for there was no arrogance in him. His elegance was something that he had inherited from a long line of great gentlemen, and he wore it as naturally and unself-consciously as he wore his ruffles and his buckled shoes. He knocked on the door, and then stood there upright like a soldier at attention, waiting for the word of command.
‘How old are you?’
How the deep voice thrilled him! He thought that had he really been a soldier, he would have followed it to death, and through it and beyond.
‘Sir, I am eleven years old and my dog is three. May we come in?’
The door opened and the boy and the dog went in together.”2
Connection
Of this connection between the two books, Christine Rawlins says in Beyond the Snow says of The Valley of Song: “All the friends with whom Tabitha shares the valley are… adults and before they can enter they must first become small enough and childlike enough to go through its tiny door. (“Verily I say unto you, Whosoever shall not receive the kingdom of God as a little child shall in no wise enter therein.”)”
Silkin explains
In The Valley of Song there is a character who is a guide to all who come. There is a scene where Silken explains to Tabitha (a little girl) and Job (an old man) about who may come inside to play and explore this fantastic and creative world:
"Do all the men and women who come in and out have to become children before they go through the door?" asked Job.
"Only children are allowed in. But they don't become children at the door. They are children before they get there.'
"Job's not a child,» said Tabitha. "He's tremendously old really."
"No, he's not," Silkin contradicted flatly and a little rudely, for enlightening the total ignorance of these humans was making him feel quite exhausted. "The old body that he left outside in the quarry is not Job. The real Job is a child. He's humble. He's not a hypocrite. He makes things.'
"I don't know what a hypocrite is," said Tabitha. "But lots of people at the Hard are humble, and they all make things, but they don't come here."
"How do you know?" snapped Silkin…3
Becoming a child
Elizabeth Goudge took the theology of child-likeness that she learned from the gospels and turned it into a luminous story about the adventures of being a creative person in the real world. If you have not yet read The Valley of Song, then I highly recommend it!
“He was reminding his disciples of something that he had said upon another day. "The kingdom of God is within you." It is not only something which we enter but something which we receive.
That life of love that is the kingdom is an atmosphere. It is like the glorious air we breathe; it must be both about us and within us or we die. And we cannot receive it into us, any more than we can enter into it, until all the useless dirt has been scoured out of our souls and they are pure and receptive as the souls of little children.”
Elizabeth Goudge, God So Loved the World
Love to hear your thoughts on the connections between Goudge’s two books!
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