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First Of All, There's Nothing Charlotte of "Charlotte's Web" Says About Wilbur That Isn't Also True Of The Virgin Mary
I make no attempt to draw conclusions here, only parallels. What this might mean for your own theology is yours to discern. I am not myself a religious man, I simply report the evidence as I have found it: Nothing Charlotte writes about Wilbur in E.B. White’s Charlotte’s Web cannot also be said of the Virgin Mary in accordance with the strictest of Catholic doctrine.
“Humble?” said Charlotte. “‘Humble’ has two meanings. It means ‘not proud’ and it means ‘near the ground.’ That’s Wilbur all over. He’s not proud and he’s near the ground.”
“My soul magnifies the Lord,
and my spirit rejoices in God my savior,
for he has looked on the humble estate of his servant…
He has cast down the mighty from their thrones,
and exalted those of humble estate.”
(The Magnificat, Luke 1:46-52, emphasis mine)
“Thanks,” said Charlotte. “The meeting is now adjourned. I have a busy evening ahead of me. I’ve got to tear my web apart and write ‘Terrific.’”
Wilbur blushed. “But I’m not terrific, Charlotte. I’m just about average for a pig.”
“You’re terrific as far as I’m concerned [grace not merit, cf Philippians 3:9],” replied Charlotte, sweetly, “and that’s what counts. You’re my best friend, and I think you’re sensational. Now stop arguing and go get some sleep!”
“Thou art beautiful — comely as Jerusalem — thou art terrible as an army set in array.” (Song of Songs 6:4, emphasis mine.)
From The True Story of Fatima, c. 1917 (emphasis mine):
Ti Marto, who was witnessing the actions of the children by the little oak tree in the Cova da Iria that day, recalls that Lucia gasped in sudden horror, that her face was white as death, and that all who were there heard her cry in terror to the Virgin Mother, whom she called by name.
The children were looking at their Lady in terror, speechless, and unable to plead for relief from the scene they had witnessed. Sadly, but kindly now, the Lady told them:
“You have seen hell, where the souls of sinners go. It is to save them that God wants to establish in the world devotion to my Immaculate Heart. If you do what I tell you, many souls will be saved, and there will be peace. This war will end, but if men do not refrain from offending God, another and more terrible war will begin. And when you see a night that is lit by a strange and unknown light, you will know it is the sign God gives you that He is about to punish the world with war and with hunger, and by the persecution of the Church and the Holy Father. To prevent this, I shall come to the world to ask that Russia be consecrated to my Immaculate Heart, and I shall ask that on the First Saturday of every month Communions of reparation be made in atonement for the sins of the world.
“If my wishes are fulfilled,” the Lady continued, “Russia will be converted and there will be peace.”
On foggy mornings, Charlotte’s web was truly a thing of beauty. This morning each thin strand was decorated with dozens of tiny beads of water. The web glistened in the light and made a pattern of loveliness and mystery, like a delicate veil. Even Lurvy, who wasn’t particularly interested in beauty, noticed the web when he came with the pig’s breakfast. He noted how clearly it showed up and he noted how big and carefully built it was. And then he took another look and he saw something that made him set his pail down. There, in the center of the web, neatly woven in block letters, was a message. It said:
Lurvy felt weak. He brushed his hand across his eyes and stared harder at Charlotte’s web.
“I’m seeing things,” he whispered. He dropped to his knees and uttered a short prayer.
“Some,” rather than “a” or “this” in this context, serves as an idiomatic expression of amazement, as in, “That’s some bad hat, Harry,” or Luke 2:41-49, wherein Mary and Joseph are “amazed” at the young Jesus among the scholars in Jerusalem, as “all who heard him were astonished” (emphasis mine), much as Lurvy is astonished at Wilbur’s Anunciation (cf the Joyful Mysteries of the Rosary).
“O.K., Wilbur,” said Charlotte. “You can go back to sleep. O.K., Templeton, the soap ad will do, I guess. I’m not sure Wilbur’s action is exactly radiant, but it’s interesting.”
“Actually,” said Wilbur, “I feel radiant.”
“Do you?” said Charlotte, looking at him with affection. “Well, you’re a good little pig, and radiant you shall be. I’m in this thing pretty deep now — I might as well go the limit [cf St. Therese’s Little Way].”
“The 27th of November, 1830, which was a Saturday and eve of the first Sunday in Advent, whilst making my meditation in profound silence, at half-past five in the evening, I seemed to hear on the right hand side of the sanctuary something like the rustling of a silk dress, and, glancing in that direction, I perceived the Blessed Virgin standing near St. Joseph’s picture; her height was medium, and her countenance so beautiful that it would be impossible for me to describe it.
She was standing, clothed in a robe the color of auroral light, the style that is usually called à la vierge—that is, high neck and plain sleeves. Her head was covered with a white veil, which descended on each side to her feet. Her hair was smooth on the forehead, and above was a coif ornamented with a little lace and fitting close to the head. Her face was only partially covered, and her feet rested upon a globe, or rather a hemisphere (at least, I saw but half a globe). Her hands were raised about as high as her waist, and she held in a graceful attitude another globe (a figure of the universe). Her eyes were lifted up to Heaven, and her countenance was radiant as she offered the globe to Our Lord.”
And there you have it, straight from the spider’s mouth. (Cf Proverbs 30:28, “The spider skillfully grasps with its hands, even in king’s palaces.”)