‘There must be something beautiful, but at the same time extremely awful, about a soul….The soul must be a heavy burden…’”[1]
Last week we left Undine wild and lovely, and Huldbrand smitten. Cut off from the rest of the world, the two soon fall in love, and the fisherman and his wife see them “as already united in marriage.”[2] And yet, they need a priest to make it official. A priest showing up on their island seems impossible…and yet a priest unexpectedly knocks at their door one evening.[3]
Father Heilmann had set out toward the bishop to tell him of the “distress” of his monastery and surrounding villages because of the floods. However, when trying to cross the raging river, the boat was capsized and he wound up on their newly formed island.[4]
Huldbrand doesn’t wait. He suggests the priest marry himself and Undine. And since everyone agrees, there’s no reason to delay!
Undine’s Marriage
The marriage is a peculiar affair, to say the least. First, there is the matter of the rings. Undine suddenly supplies “two costly rings” her adoptive parents had never seen before. Undine explains that her parents had sewn them into her dress the night she came, and forbade her to tell anyone before her wedding day.[5]
Before the ceremony, Undine had acted surprisingly “gentle and kind.”[6] During the ceremony, she is “trembling and thoughtful.”[7] But after the ceremony, it “seemed as if all the wayward humors which rioted within her, burst forth all the more boldly and unrestrainedly. She teased her bridegroom and her foster-parents, and even the holy man whom she had so lately reverenced, with all sorts of childish tricks.”[8]
Finally, the priest, “in a serious and kind tone” says, “‘My fair young maiden, no one indeed can look at you without delight; but remember so to attune your soul.’”[9]
But Undine’s response is not what he expects. “‘Soul!’ said Undine, laughing; ‘that sounds pretty enough, and may be a very edifying and useful caution for most people. But when one hasn’t a soul at all, I beg you, what is there to attune then? and that is my case.’”[10]
Obviously, the priest is scandalized. But Undine urges him not to be angry, promising to tell them why she acts so strangely…but she can’t. Instead, she bursts into tears and cries these mournful words:
“‘There must be something beautiful, but at the same time extremely awful, about a soul. Tell me, holy sir, were it not better that we never shared such a gift?’ She was silent again as if waiting for an answer, and her tears had ceased to flow. All in the cottage had risen from their seats and had stepped back from her with horror. She, however, seemed to have eyes for no one but the holy man; her features wore an expression of fearful curiosity, which appeared terrible to those who saw her. ‘The soul must be a heavy burden,’ she continued, as no one answered her, ‘very heavy! for even its approaching image overshadows me with anxiety and sadness. And, ah! I was so lighthearted and so merry till now!’ And she burst into a fresh flood of tears.”[11]
A Heavy Burden
When I first read Undine’s words I was shocked – as scandalized as all her friends! How could she say such a thing! A soul is wonderful. It’s your access to God. It’s what makes us eternal.
But let’s pause for a moment and consider: what if we had never had a soul? How would we feel then?
What does the soul bring to Undine? It brings eternal life, but it also brings responsibility. She is suddenly face to face with all the possibilities for sin, as well as all the possibilities for goodness. Of course she’d think she’d made a mistake, going from a carefree life to this burden of eternity. Of course she’d be filled with “anxiety and sadness.” Life is not all about being “lighthearted” and “merry” anymore! Those are aspects of life, but suddenly there is new meaning. A deeper meaning.
Undine went from a temporal, finite creature to an eternal, infinite one. She went from merely living to please herself to being confronted with the opportunity to live alongside a Holy God.
Indeed, why don’t we, who have souls, tremble like Undine?
I’m humbled by Fouqué’s thoughtfulness in this. Undine’s pure and honest response is lovely. It should make us think about our own response to salvation and eternity. We take a relationship with a Holy God so lightly! But it is an awe-inspiring thing, one that should make us tremble with holy fear.
Fear that a Pure and Holy God would choose to love and offer life to a sinner like me.
What’s more, I think her response is exactly what all our “worldly” mermaids believe, too. Why would you trade living for yourself for living for a God who allows such chaos and evil into the world? Why would you trade being lighthearted for the burdens of Christianity – for yes, they are burdens. I remember laughing at the thought that Jesus’ yoke was light (Matt. 11:30). I didn’t realize it was the trappings of the church that made it a burden, and not Jesus Himself.
Yes, a soul is a weighty business, but – like many aspects of Christianity – the counter-intuitive is true. By gaining a soul – by accepting salvation – it enables us to be more “lighthearted” and “merry” than before! If only we could show people the truth of that…
Sources
[1] Undine by Friedrich de la Motte Fouqué in Heidi Anne Heiner’s Mermaid and Other Water Spirit Tales from Around the World (Nashville, TN: SurLaLune Press, 2011) 560.
[2] Ibid., 553.
[3] Undine, 555-556.
[4] Ibid., 556-557.
[5] Undine, 558.
[6] Ibid., 556.
[7] Undine, 599.
[8] Ibid.
[9] Undine, 560.
[10] Ibid.
[11] Undine, 560.
