The Deeper Magic
The Lion, the Witch, and the Drama of Salvation
Secularism, though prominent in our culture, has never completely triumphed – and never will. No matter how hard we try to find complete satisfaction and fulfillment in this world, we inevitably find ourselves hungering for “something more”. This is especially evident among those who have come to possess the most coveted spoils of secularism – success, status, sex, and stability. Those greatest achievers in this life are usually the most vocal advocates of the vanity of all things apart from some “higher purpose”.
Because of this, it would be a great mistake to interpret our culture’s disinterest in traditional religion as rejection of spirituality or disbelief in transcendent reality. Even though many people cannot possibly fathom their spiritual hunger for the transcendent being met within the confines of organized religion, the passion for “something more” still exists.
And this impulse does not die easily. That is why secularism will never completely triumph.
Spiritual Hunger, Fantasy Stories
We are complex creatures. We are not only material beings, sexual beings, moral beings, and relational beings – we are spiritual beings. We possess an unquenchable desire to know deep meaning, purpose, and significance. We long to find something or someone that is worthy of our praise, worship, and imitation, that is, something or someone to which we can attribute great worth and weight – even if that someone ends up being our own self! This hunger is behind our creation of stories – stories we tell to better understand the world we live in, one another, and ourselves.
Our culture’s hunger for the transcendent is evidenced by the stories we love the most – epic stories of legend, myth, and fantasy. Of the top 25 movies of all time, all but three of are either fantasy, fairy tale, or science fiction.[1]
Science fiction and fantasy epics such as Star Wars, Star Trek, The Matrix, and The Lord of the Rings have huge followings because fans love the characters and stories. However, fan interest usually goes much deeper than this. Many fans find meaning in their own lives in and through these stories. They identify with the philosophies, truths, and values promoted in the narratives. They connect at a deep level with fantastic worlds that contain transcendent reality deeper than the mind and greater than the senses – worlds full of mystery, awe, meaning, purpose, and potential. Ultimately, fantasy is not an escape from reality, but the desperate attempt to infuse reality with a transcendent dimension.
The contemporary re-enchantment of reality should not disturb, but rather, excite Christians. Of all people, Christians have always believed in the power of epic stories to challenge and transform lives. Whether we realize it or not, this conviction is behind our belief that the gospel – the good news, or better, the epic story of Jesus Christ – is still able to capture imaginations, renew minds, and transform hearts to the glory of God. We believe that God’s story in Christ provides meaning to those who embrace it by faith. We believe that the philosophies, truths, and values promoted in the good news have universal and everlasting significance – that they are epic in every sense of the word! We believe that when God’s story is truly received it possesses the power to influence our lives and the lives of those around us. In short, we believe in the transforming power of story!
Releasing the Imagination
In spite of our belief in the power of story, Christians have always had a difficult time with the imagination. Our suspicion of this God-given faculty causes us to either suppress it or condemn it. We fail to realize that the same dangers that lurk behind the use of the imagination also haunt the use of our reason. Rationality – just like imagination – can be corrupted and distorted. In other words, rationality can be used for destructive and inhuman purposes in much the same way that the imagination can. This is true in politics and science, as well as religion. Douglas Jones is correct when he writes, “Weak imaginations have always fallen before Scripture’s chief enemies: legalists, rationalists, and libertines. Orthodoxy demands imagination, and so we are just asking for serious spiritual problems if we deny the imaginative life.”[2]
Because of our distrust of the imagination – and thus, the stories it creates – we often reduce God’s story to a few propositional facts that seem more suited to a doctrinal treatise than an epic fantasy tale.[3] The tragic result: we have “rationalized” God’s story! By reducing God’s story to a series of “facts,” “theological truths,” or “spiritual laws” we have transformed salvation from participation in God’s epic to a simple assent to a few statements – a mental assent that proves us either “right” or “wrong” rather than a whole-hearted embrace of God’s story that sets us on a journey to align our story with God’s.
We must repent of this distortion and recover the power of story. This includes fictional stories of all types. Contrary to evangelical suspicions, fiction is not the opposite of fact. Truth can be communicated through imagined stories – Jesus’ parables are proof of this.
Fantastic Truth
In order to best understand the contemporary re-enchantment of reality we must understand the genre of fantasy. If we do not make this effort, we will completely misunderstand the genre and make ludicrous claims about its intended purpose. For example, the evangelical concern about the Harry Potter books may have been hushed from the beginning if evangelicals had simply noted that the books are fantasy!
Fantasy stories are an extreme form of fiction. General fiction consists of made-up stories which could take place in our world. Fantasy, on the other hand, takes place in a world that obeys rules different from our own. Much of what happens in a fantasy story can not possibly take place in our world, even though the philosophies, truths, and values often can transfer between worlds.
Because the Christian story consistently presents a dynamic transformation that occurs at the intersection of two worlds – our world and God’s kingdom – it is not only historical fact but also shares qualities of fantasy. In the stories of the Bible, and particularly in the story of Jesus, the Transcendent touches earth, and life is forever changed. This is what happens most powerfully in the incarnation. God becomes man in order to deeply touch earth and its inhabitants.
This overwhelmingly fantastic truth is better set within a story than a systematic theology. This is as it should be, for the gospel is more like a fantastical fairy tale than it is a stodgy, dry theological tome. In the gospel, the Great King becomes a pauper to save a damsel in distress who is enslaved by evil powers. This truth is best conveyed in story – good news – and not just in a series of doctrinal propositions.
Consider this: Which of the following better communicates the nature of God? (1) The theological definition of the Westminster Catechism: “God is a Spirit, infinite, eternal, and unchangeable, in his being, wisdom, power, holiness, justice, goodness, and truth”?[4] Or, (2) the deeply relational language of metaphors and roles found in Scripture: God is prophet, priest, king, father, comforter, creator, redeemer, shepherd? Which brings you more comfort: the statement that God is “infinite in being” or that God is your Abba, your shepherd, your protector, your husband, your friend? Which truly meets your needs in the real world: abstract terminology or the real-life examples of human roles fulfilled with divine faithfulness?
The language of metaphor and human roles does a much better job of describing God’s nature and relationship to us. These metaphors and roles are enhanced when they are understood in the context of a story. This is the power behind Jesus’ stories. Jesus’ simple Parable of the Prodigal Son sheds more insight on the nature, values, passion, and purpose of God than any theological definition. Can anybody read this parable and come away saying that the parable teaches that “God is a Spirit, infinite, eternal, and unchangeable, in his being, wisdom, power, holiness, justice, goodness, and truth”? The precise language of theological definitions is not nearly as faith-inspiring as reflection on God’s roles and God’s stories. This is not because we are lazy thinkers; this is because we are relational creatures who find meaning and purpose in stories, roles, and relationships and not simply in rational reflection on theological terms.
It is for this reason that C. S. Lewis’ seven-volume Chronicles of Narnia has enchanted both children and adults for over 50 years. It presents a picture of God in Christ in the character of Aslan the Lion that jumpstarts our imagination, providing us with fresh reflection upon Jesus. Certainly, in its own right, The Chronicles of Narnia is a compelling fantasy. We must never lose sight of this, for the purpose of the story is not that it be used as Christian propaganda, but that it tell an enchanting story that captivates children. However, if one digs deeper, there is an underlying story that takes its cues from the Gospel of Jesus Christ. By considering Aslan’s identity and actions in The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe, we gain new insights, and perhaps even a deeper sense of wonder and joy, about God in Christ.
“Aslan is On the Move”
The Lion, Witch, and the Wardrobe is the story of four children – Peter (14), Susan (12), Edmund (10) and Lucy (8) – who are evacuated to the countryside in order to protect them from air raids in London. In the house of Professor Digory Kirke they discover a room that contains only a wardrobe. First Lucy, then Edmund, and then all the children enter the wardrobe and discover the enchanted Land of Narnia. In this land, the White Witch has cast a spell that has plunged Narnia into a perpetual iciness where it is “always winter and never Christmas.” But even under her curse, the beauty of Narnia remains evident.
At Mr. and Mrs. Beaver’s house, the four children are told that “Aslan is on the move.” At this point in the story, the children are only aware of the Witch Witch and her evil spell over Narnia. They have never heard of Aslan, but the mere mention of his name provokes a curious and unique response in each child:
And now a very curious thing happened. None of the children knew who Aslan was any more than you do; but the moment the Beaver had spoken [his name] everyone felt quite different.... At the name of Aslan each one of the children felt something jump in its inside. Edmund felt a sensation of mysterious horror. Peter felt suddenly brave and adventurous. Susan felt as if some delicious smell or some delightful strain of music had just floated by her. And Lucy got the feeling you have when you wake up in the morning and realize that it is the beginning of the holidays or the beginning of summer.
The children’s sudden strong reactions demonstrate the mystical power of Aslan. His name alone provokes fear, courage, beauty, freedom and hope. Each child experiences Aslan in relation to his or her own unique personality and current attitude toward Aslan. For example, the adventurous Peter, who is the oldest and the leader, suddenly feels brave. Conversely, Edmund, who has already aligned himself with the White Witch and eventually betrays his siblings, experiences only “mysterious horror.”
Beaver continues his description of Aslan:
“Aslan?” said Mr. Beaver. “Why, don’t you know? He’s the King. He’s the Lord of the whole wood, but not often here, you understand. Never in my time or my father’s time. But the word has reached us that he has come back. He is in Narnia at this moment. He’ll settle the White Queen all right. It is he, not you, that will save Mr. Tumnus.”
“Is — is he a man?” asked Lucy.
“Aslan a man!” Mr. Beaver said sternly. “Certainly not. I tell you he is the King of the wood and the son of the great Emperor-Beyond-the-Sea. Don’t you know who is the King of Beasts? Aslan is a lion — the Lion, the great Lion.”
Lewis hints at the Christian doctrine of the Trinity by describing Aslan as “the son of the great Emperor-Beyond-the-Sea.” The Emperor-Beyond-the-Sea is never directly portrayed in any of the seven Chronicles of Narnia. “Lewis thought it wiser to simply refer to the Emperor-Beyond-the-Sea, suggesting numinous majesty and transcendent inaccessibility without trying to show it. Aslan is the incarnate form of Deity – not just a spiritual presence but an actual embodiment.”[5]
The discussion continues with one of the most familiar sections from the book:
“Ooh!” said Susan, “I’d thought he was a man. Is he — quite safe? I shall feel rather nervous about meeting a lion.”
“That you will, dearie, and no mistake,” said Mrs. Beaver; “if there’s anyone who can appear before Aslan without their knees knocking, they’re either braver than most or else just silly.”
“Then he isn’t safe?” said Lucy.
“Safe?” said Mr. Beaver. “Don’t you hear what Mrs. Beaver tells you? Who said anything about safe? ‘Course he isn’t safe. But he’s good. He’s the King, I tell you.”
Aslan is neither a harmless grandfather figure nor a beastly tyrant. Instead, Aslan is both awe-ful and good. He inspires fear and love. He can be joyously embraced but he must also be reverently approached. He is playful, but he is no one’s pet! He is mysterious, and yet approachable. He is not safe, but he is good. Like the old hymn, he is both “merciful and mighty.” In the book, the narrator says, “People who have not been in Narnia sometimes think that a thing cannot be good and terrible at the same time.” In Aslan – just as in God – we see that this is possible, indeed, necessary! We should expect this from Deity.
One of the reasons that Aslan is such a fascinating character is Lewis’ amazing ability to hold these two tensions in balance. “Of course it can’t be repeated enough: Aslan is not a safe playmate. When he roars, stop your ears. When he lets you ride on his back, hold on tight.”[6] Like Paul before him, Lewis asks us to, “Behold the kindness and severity of God” (Romans 11:22).
The Stone Table
While the conversation continues at the Beaver’s home, Edmund sneaks out and escapes to the White Witch. He tells her that he has brought his siblings with him and that Aslan has come to Narnia. She takes Edmund captive and commands her minions to find the children and kill them.
Meanwhile, winter begins to end in Narnia as the White Witch’s spell loses its power. When Aslan finally arrives, he sends an army of mythical creatures to rescue Edmund. They do so. But after their victory, the White Witch demands his return. Edmund is a traitor and, according to the Deep Magic, all traitors are her property.
“Have you forgotten the Deep Magic?” asked the Witch.
“Let us say I have forgotten it,” answered Aslan gravely. “Tell us of this Deep Magic.”
“Tell you?” said the Witch, her voice growing suddenly shriller. “Tell you what is written on that very Table of Stone which stands beside us? Tell you what is written in letters deep as a spear is long on the fire-stones on the Secret Hill? Tell you what is engraved on the scepter of the Emperor-Beyond-the-Sea? You at least know the Magic which the Emperor put into Narnia at the very beginning. You know that every traitor belongs to me as my lawful prey and that for every treachery I have a right to kill.... And so that human creature is mine. His life is forfeit to me. His blood is my property... unless I have blood as the Law says all Narnia will be overturned and perish in fire and water.”
“It is very true,” said Aslan, “I do not deny it.”
In his fantasy world, Lewis used the word magic in a very specific way. “Nowadays the word magic refers most often to sleight-of-hand tricks performed by entertainers. Lewis used the term more seriously and more broadly to describe anything marvelous or unexplained, from divine mysteries to diabolical sorcery.”[7] In short, Magic is Lewis’ shorthand for “spiritual reality.”
The Deep Magic refers to the transcendent reality established by the Emperor-Beyond-the-Sea that holds all things together. Put simply, the Deep Magic is God’s moral law and its obligations, requirements, and penalties. It is because Edmund betrayed his siblings that, by the authority of the Deep Magic, he is rightly the property of the White Witch. Aslan can do nothing about this. The Deep Magic must be honored, even when it is selfishly invoked by the White Witch, for her own advantage and purpose.[8]
Aslan then approaches the White Witch and talks to her alone. He then hands his life over to the White Witch in return for Edmund’s life. In the dark of night, at the Stone Table, Aslan, who describes himself as “sad and lonely,” gives himself over to humiliation and death at the hands of the White Witch and her minions. He is tied to the Stone Table and killed by the White Witch while Susan and Lucy look on from afar. With Aslan dead, the queen vows to kill the children. With Aslan dead, all hope seems lost.
However, the dawn of the next day changes everything.
At that moment they heard from behind them a loud noise — a great cracking, deafening noise as if a giant had broken a giant’s plate.... The Stone Table was broken into two pieces by a great crack that ran down it from end to end; and there was no Aslan.
“Who’s done it?” cried Susan. “What does it mean? Is it more magic?”
“Yes!” said a great voice from behind their backs. “It is more magic.” They looked round. There, shining in the sunrise, larger than they had seen him before, shaking his mane (for it had apparently grown again) stood Aslan himself.
“Oh, Aslan!” cried both the children, staring up at him, almost as much frightened as they were glad....
“But what does it all mean?” asked Susan when they were somewhat calmer.
“It means,” said Aslan, “that though the Witch knew the Deep Magic, there is a magic deeper still which she did not know. Her knowledge goes back only to the dawn of time. But if she could have looked a little further back, into the stillness and the darkness before Time dawned, she would have read there a different incantation. She would have known that when a willing victim who had committed no treachery was killed in a traitor’s stead, the Table would crack and Death itself would start working backward.”
What the White Witch did not know is that there are two kinds of magic in Narnia: the Deep Magic, and the Deeper Magic. Both have their source in the Emperor-Beyond-the-Sea. Beyond this, there are a number of crucial differences. The Deep Magic exists from creation and is known to all creatures. The Deeper Magic has its source in eternity past and is unique knowledge known only by the Emperor-Beyond-the-Sea and Aslan – two eternal beings. The Deep Magic represents God’s moral law and its obligations, requirements, and penalties. The Deeper Magic represents God’s redemptive plan that was the subject of the divine counsel of God from eternity past.
This idea is reflected in the sacred scriptures. The Apostle Peter writes,
conduct yourselves in fear during the time of your stay upon earth; knowing that you were not redeemed with perishable things like silver or gold from your futile way of life inherited from your forefathers, but with precious blood, as of a lamb unblemished and spotless, the blood of Christ. For he was foreknown before the foundation of the world, but has appeared in these last times for the sake of you who through him are believers in God. (1 Peter 1:17b-21a)
Because of the Deeper Magic agreed upon by the Father and Son, God created with full awareness of the personal cost to himself. God created knowing that, ultimately, the Son would suffer the full penalty of human sin. That is why the sacred Scriptures speak of “the Lamb that was slain from the creation of the world” (Revelation 13:8). This truth is alluded to in The Magician’s Nephew, the prequel to The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe. In the book, Aslan tells the beasts that, “before the new, clean world I gave you is seven hours old, a force of evil has already entered it; waked and brought hither by this son of Adam… Evil will come of that evil, but it is still a long way off, and I will see to it that the worst falls upon myself.”
Some have criticized Lewis’ story by arguing that Aslan’s work of salvation involves the deception of the White Witch. To this, three things must be said. First, Lewis is writing a fantasy that reflects Christ but is not intended to be a theological treatise. Second, though elements of substitutionary atonement are present, the larger theme is deliverance from the powers of evil. Aslan provides a ransom for Edmund. Thus, the ancient ransom theory of atonement, which for some church fathers, involves tricking the devil, is reflected in the story. Scot McKnight writes, “To be fair, most today who adhere to the ransom theory no longer see God’s tricking of Satan as part of the mix. Instead, they speak of God’s power’s being unleashed to liberate humans from sin and suffering and systemic evil. But, one will admit that the story of the early fathers was full of drama. Release from someone’s grip is an ageless story.”[9] Third, there certainly is a sense in which the evil powers had no way to conceive of what God was up to in Christ. God’s wisdom is simply too much for even the most powerful spiritual beings. Paul writes about this in 1 Corinthians 2:7-8:
But we speak God’s wisdom in a mystery, the hidden wisdom, which God predestined before the ages to our glory; the wisdom which none of the rulers of this age has understood; for if they had understood it, they would not have crucified the Lord of glory.
In the end, the one thing that certainly comes through is that Aslan gives himself over to the powers of evil for the sake of the sinner, Edmund. There is no other reason for him to do this than divine love. In this way, we are reminded of what God has done for us all in Christ:
For while we were still sinners, at the right time Christ died for the ungodly. For one will hardly die for a righteous man; though perhaps for the good man someone would dare even to die. But God demonstrates his own love toward us, in that while we were yet sinners, Christ died for us. (Romans 5:6-8)
Conclusion
Stories possess an astounding ability to reorient our perspective and transform our lives. They deeply touch our hearts in ways that mere prose cannot. This is the reason that our contemporary world has embraced epic stories of fantasy and science fiction. We are wired to understand our world, others, and ourselves through stories.
Human beings possess a longing for meaning and transcendence. We long to identify with stories that help us understand our world, others, and ourselves. More often than not, stories empower us by presenting a transcendent dimension that makes life worth living. Fantasy stories do this with ease by making the transcendent a “natural” part of the story.
Why do we long for this? Because this is the nature of reality. We do not deeply long for that which doesn’t exist. Our deep interest in epic stories of fantasy exposes our longing for the transcendent. Thus, our hunger for the transcendent – for “something more” – says something true and real about ourselves and the world we live in. As Lewis wrote, “If I find in myself a desire which no experience in this world can satisfy, the most probable explanation is that I was made for another world.”
In The Chronicles of Narnia Lewis creates an epic fantasy story. Lewis certainly desired to create a story that would be engaging, enjoyable, and imaginative. But, laden throughout the story, he also intentionally placed clues to the ultimate myth – in his words, the “myth which is also a fact” – of which his personal creation is merely an echo.
In the end, what Lewis desired is that our love and respect – our fascination and fear – of Aslan would translate to love and fear for Aslan’s archetype: the Lord Jesus Christ. In The Voyage of the Dawn Treader, Lucy is heartbroken at the thought of returning to earth and leaving Aslan behind in Narnia. Aslan responds, “This was the very reason you were brought to Narnia, that by knowing me here for a little while, you may know me better there.” This is possible, for the Deep Magic and the Deeper Magic sustain and pervade our world, just as they do Narnia.
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[1] According to Box Office Mojo’s “All Time Domestic Grosses” http://www.boxofficemojo.com/alltime/domestic.htm. The three exceptions are Titanic, The Passion of the Christ, and Home Alone.
[2] Letters to the Editor, Credenda Agenda, Volume 11, Number 2
[3] We also do this for the sake of simplicity and brevity – both qualities that tend to distort the gospel message. The gospel is certainly neither “simple” nor “brief.”
[4] Question 4 of The Westminster Shorter Catechism. The answer in the Larger Catechism is longer: “God is a Spirit, in and of himself infinite in being, glory, blessedness, and perfection; all-sufficient, eternal, unchangeable, incomprehensible, everywhere present, almighty, knowing all things, most wise, most holy, most just, most merciful and gracious, long-suffering, and abundant in goodness and truth.”
[5] David C. Downing, Into the Wardrobe: C. S. Lewis and the Chronicles of Narnia (New York: Jossey-Bass, 2005), 71.
[6] Mark Eddy Smith, Aslan’s Call: Finding Our Way to Narnia (Downers Grove, Illinois: InterVarsity Press, 2005), 26.
[7] Downing, Into the Wardrobe, 120.
[8] This is not the purpose of the deep magic, but it can be distorted to this end. It is the Emperor’s magic that the White Witch abuses to her own ends.
[9] Scot McKnight, Embracing Grace: A Gospel for All of Us (Brewster, MA: Paraclete Press, 2005), 97.
© Richard J. Vincent, 2005
