Literary examples of the final transition into divine union (or not), Part 2
Tragic and heroic character arcs at the very end of the soul's journey
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Continuing from Part 1, let’s jump directly into our other fictional examples, a tragic character from The Land of Golden Sunshine by J. Donald Walters and from Marie Corelli’s The Life Everlasting.
The tragic arc of Lisa’s acquaintance in The Land of Golden Sunshine
The Land of Golden Sunshine, which we saw in Part 1, also depicts the tragic choice opposite Lisa’s heroic one. The tragic arc is embodied by a secondary, unnamed character, who is essentially the narrator:
One person alone knows the story directly:
An older worker in the factory,
And Lisa’s only close acquaintance.
(Alas! no one in that loveless city,
Has any real friends!)
But this woman, old by this time,
Seldom repeats the tale.
After the Sun-Man’s first two visits to Lisa, which both inspire and tear at her heart, Lisa consults with this acquaintance, expecting to be ridiculed. But,
To her surprise,
Her acquaintance took her seriously.
Indeed, she had heard of this man!
The old woman’s tells stories of “others” who were visited by “this foreigner,” as she calls the Sun-Man:
“Like you, they tell of how,
When the light encircling him
Struck them full in the eyes,
He disappeared.”
She then speaks critically of those who apparently accepted the Sun-Man’s invitation, after which she praises those who refused, reminding us of Lightman’s classification of his experience as naught but a “hallucination”:
Smugly, then, she continued,
“They were too clever to succumb—
Not that far, anyway!
Time passed, and this—’oddity’
Ended his visits.
Well, after all, they had obligations
To their work,
To their lives in the city,
And to the rightful expectations
Of their friends and families.“A few of them, I suppose—
Such, I’m afraid, is human weakness!—
Wondered as the years passed
Whether, by refusing,
They had not been cowardly.
Perhaps it was their vacillating natures
That first attracted him!
In any case, the facts are clear,
And obvious to everyone of common sense:
It took courage to resist
What was either an idle dream,
Or even worse:
A terrible temptation!”
And we’re left with the old woman at the end of the story:
At lunchtime, another woman commented
On the girl’s absence.
Her favorite acquaintance heard—
And wondered.Yes, wondered—
Though in her heart I think she knew—
Whether the missing girl had, after all,
Dared to leave for another
This most real of all imaginable worlds.
As I read the story, this old woman is actually speaking from personal experience and not just hearsay because there’s a sense of remorse for having refused the Sun-Man. I wonder, too, if Alan Lightman (see Part 1) will reach that point as well, whether in this life or in some other.1
Indeed, I trust that in future lifetimes he’ll have further experiences that will continually invite him—compel him, even—to change his viewpoint and accept realities beyond the material. And I see the same possibility for the old woman in The Land of Golden Sunshine (I think that would make a fine sequel). For God is again no tyrant: in his eternal love would he not give every individual as many chances and as much time as they need to accept that love?
Bonus feature: union scene in Star Trek: The Motion Picture
Before getting to our last literary example, I wanted to include the climactic scene from Star Trek: The Motion Picture, simply to offer an excellent visual depiction of a merging between Creator and Created.
The final steps in Marie Corelli’s The Life Everlasting
Our other example of the heroic path is found in the last two chapters of Marie Corelli’s 1911 novel, The Life Everlasting. The unnamed female protagonist/narrator has, during a period of seclusion in a monastery, been undergoing various spiritual tests through which she proves herself worthy of her true soul-mate. Her reunion with that soul-mate symbolizes the soul’s reunion with its Creator, God.
Complete self-offering is a key factor in those tests, as first demonstrated by her experience in the penultimate chapter, “The Unknown Deep,” which reflects Lightman’s “nothingness.” She is met by the quintessential black-robed figure of “Death” and is led up a long spiral staircase into darkness. When they finally come to the end, she describes the scene:
Above me was a heaven of stars; — below an unfathomable deep of darkness where nothing was visible; — but from this nothingness arose a mighty turbulence as of an angry sea. I remained where I found myself, afraid to move; — one false step might, I felt, hurl me into a destruction which though it would not be actual death would certainly be something like chaos. (402)2
The Figure then ask in “a low, deep tone that was infinitely gentle”:
“So far! — and yet not far enough!” it said— “To what end wilt thou adventure for the sake of Love?”
“To no End whatsoever,” — I answered with sudden boldness— “But to everlasting Continuance!” (402)
There ensues some verbal tussle about how far she will truly go, culminating in the challenge of offering herself into the unknown deep:
“Dost thou believe in Love, the generator of Life and the moving Cause and Mind of all created things?”
And again I replied —“With all my soul!”
The Figure now bent slightly towards me, and the light within its darkness became more denned and brilliant. Presently an arm and hand, white and radiant — a shape as of living flame — was slowly outstretched from the enfolding black draperies. It pointed steadily to the abyss below me.
“If thy love is so great” — said the voice— “If thy faith is so strong — if thy trust in God is sure and perfect — descend thither!” (403-404)
She hesitates for a short time, but then:
And then I suddenly found my own Soul’s centre, — the very basis of my own actual being — and standing firmly upon that plane of imperishable force, I came to a quick resolve.
“Nothing can destroy me!” I said within myself— “Nothing can slay the immortal part of me, and nothing can separate my soul from the soul of my beloved! In all earth, in all heaven, there is no cause for fear!”
Hesitating no longer, I closed my eyes, — then extending my clasped hands I threw myself forward and plunged into the darkness! — down, down, interminably down! A light followed me like a meteoric shaft of luminance piercing the blackness — I retained sufficient consciousness to wonder at its brilliancy, and for a time I was borne along in my descent as though on wings. Down, still down! — and I saw ocean at my feet! — a heaving mass of angry waters flecked with a wool-like fleece of foam!
“The Change that is called Death, but which is Life!”
This was the only clear thought that flashed like lightning through my brain as I sank swiftly towards the engulfing desert of the sea! — then everything swirled into darkness and silence! (405-406)
Unlike Lightman, then, the protagonist here fearlessly takes the plunge, understanding that nothingness is itself a delusion.
She awakens to find herself healthy and whole in the monastery once again, where its leader, Aselzion, congratulates her on her success and informs her that one last ordeal remains.
Now, I must pause to issue a trigger warning: she learns at this time (as we, the readers, do) that her experiences were the result of mental manipulations by Aselzion and four of the other monks. Even though these manipulations were entirely for the protagonist’s spiritual growth and she had willingly consented to undergo her ordeals, she wasn’t aware that those ordeals would come through what many readers today would consider flagrant “mind-rape.” In Corelli’s time, though, many people were fascinated by mesmerism, ESP, spiritualism, and other psychic phenomena and so probably weren’t fazed by such a revelation.
The protagonist’s final test, though, is not mental but a real and direct self-offering (insofar as fiction is real) and occurs in the book’s last chapter, “Into the Light.” In the monastery’s chapel, she approaches the altar where stands the fiery Cross and Star symbol of the order (the star being the Star of Bethlehem):
A dazzling flash of light struck my eyes as though the heavens had opened. The blazing Cross and Star became suddenly severed in two separate portions, dividing asunder and disclosing what seemed to be a Hall of living fire! Flames of every colour burned vividly, leaping and falling without pause or cessation, — it was a kind of open furnace in which surely everything must be consumed! I looked at Aselzion in silent enquiry — not in fear — and in equally silent answer he pointed to the glowing vault. I understood — and without another moment’s hesitation I advanced towards it…my whole soul was set on fulfilling the last task demanded of me.
…
I advanced towards the leaping flames. I felt their hot breath on my cheeks — the scorching wind of them lifted my hair through the folds of my veil — an idea came upon me that for some cause or other I was now to experience that ’Change which men call Death’ — and that through this means I should meet my Beloved on the other side of life — and with his name on my lips, and a passionate appeal to him in my heart, I stepped into the glowing fire. As I did so, I…found myself surrounded on all sides by darting points of light which instead of scorching and withering me like a blown leaf in a storm, were like cool and fragrant showers playing all over me! Amazed, I went on — and as I went grew bolder. At one step I was bathed in a rain of delicate rays like sparkling diamond and topaz — at another a lovely violet light shrouded me in its rich hues — at another I walked in melting azure, like the hues of a summer sky — and the farther in I went the deeper and more glowing was the light about me. I felt it penetrating every pore of my skin — I held my hands out to it, and saw them look transparent in the fine luminance, — and presently, gaining courage, I threw back my veil and breathed in the radiance, as one breathes the air! My whole body grew light, and moved as though it floated rather than walked — …
The light around me now changed to waves of intense luminance which swept upon me like waves of the sea — and I allowed myself to be borne along with them, I knew not whither. All at once I saw a vast Pillar of Fire which seemed to block my way, — pausing a moment, I looked and saw it break asunder and form the Cross and Star! — I gazed upward, wondering — its rays descending seemed to pierce my eyes, my brain, my very soul! — I sprang forward, dazed and dazzled, murmuring, “Let this be the end!” (431-433)
And there she finds herself finally in the embrace of her Beloved, who says to her:
“Not the end, but the Endless, my beloved! — Mine at last, and mine for ever! — in triumph, in victory, in perfect joy!” (433)
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I think it’s worth noting an inherent bias with memoirs that favor accounts like Lightman’s. People like Lisa who go into the light or otherwise find spiritual realization aren’t generally in the habit of writing, publishing, and marketing memoirs. Those activities favor people who remain behind, especially because bitterness sells better than lightness. Those who turn away from God and remain in worldly consciousness, too, are better at producing material for worldly people, hence the self-reinforcing bias.
Page numbers are from the 1911 Grosset & Dunlap printing (New York).