Such A Romp

Some of this post will look very familiar.  A lot of it contains things I have said before.  But the truth is that while there a plethora of Christ figures to explore in fantasy, science fiction, and even horror—when it comes to Resurrection, for me, it will always be Aslan the Lion:

The rising of the sun had made everything look so different — all colours and shadows were changed— that for a moment they didn't see the important thing.  Then they did.  The Stone Table was broken into two pieces by a great crack that ran down it from end to end; and there was no more Aslan.

In one of his many letters, Lewis refers to the Stone Table as Narnia's version of the tablets of stone on which the Ten Commandments were written.  But I can't help interrupting the narrative here to point out that there's another allusion here.  When Jesus breathed his last, the curtain in the temple that separates the Tabernacle—the place where the Glory of God resided in a very real sense—split from top to bottom.  It tore in two pieces.  From end to end.  And where is the Glory of God then, one wonders...?

"Who's done it?" cried Susan.  "What does it mean?  Is it magic?"
"Yes!" said a great voice 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.
"Aren't you dead then, dear Aslan?" said Lucy.
"Not now," said Aslan.
"You're not — not a —?" asked Susan in a shaky voice.  She couldn't bring herself to say the word ghost.  Aslan stooped his golden head and licked her forehead.  The warmth of his breath and a rich sort of smell that seemed to hang about his hair came all over her.
"Do I look it?" he said.
"Oh, you're real, you're real!  Oh Aslan!" cried Lucy, and both girls flung themselves upon him and covered him with kisses."

When the girls calm down, Susan asks Aslan what it all means.  But I'm not going to give you Aslan's answer here—that quote is easy to find and it even made it into the resurrection scene in the Walden Media film.  The point of theology is, indeed, to make meaning.  But sometimes in our struggle to make meaning we forget to pay attention to how we feel.  And Lewis painted a brilliant picture of how the Resurrection—and therefore Easter—should make us feel!

"Oh children," said the Lion, "I feel my strength coming back to me.  Oh, children, catch me if you can!"  He stood for a second, his eyes very bright, his limbs quivering, lashing himself with his tail.  Then me made a leap high over their heads and landed on the other side of the Table.  Laughing, though she didn't know why, Lucy scrambled over it to reach him.  Aslan leaped again.  A mad chase began.  Round and round the hill-top he led them, now hopelessly out of their reach, now letting them almost catch his tail, now diving between them, now tossing them in the air with his huge an beautifully velveted paws and catching them again, and now stopping unexpectedly so that all three of them rolled over together in a happy laughing heap of fur and arms and legs.  It was such a romp as no one has ever had except in Narnia; and whether it was more like playing with a thunderstorm or playing with a kitten Lucy could never make up her mind.  And the funny thing was that when all three finally lay together panting in the sun, the girls no longer felt the least tired or hungry or thirsty.
"And now," said Aslan presently, "to business.  I feel I am going to roar.  You had better put your fingers in your ears."

Happy Easter!
Be good to each other,
Have a good romp,
Rev. Josh
041514

The scripture lessons for April 6th—The Fifth Sunday of Lent Year A—are:
Acts 10:34-43—Psalm 118:1-2, 14-24—Colossians 3:1-4—John 11:1-45

“It isn't Narnia, you know," sobbed Lucy.  "It's you.  We shan't meet you there.  And how can we live, never meeting you?"
"But you shall meet me, dear one," said Aslan.
"Are -are you there too, Sir?" said Edmund.
"I am," said Aslan. "But there I have another name.  You must learn to know me by that name.  This was the very reason why you were brought to Narnia, that by knowing me here for a little, you may know me better there.”
― C.S. Lewis, The Voyage of the Dawn Treader

John 20:1-18

Early on the first day of the week, while it was still dark, Mary Magdalene came to the tomb and saw that the stone had been removed from the tomb. So she ran and went to Simon Peter and the other disciple, the one whom Jesus loved, and said to them, "They have taken the Lord out of the tomb, and we do not know where they have laid him." Then Peter and the other disciple set out and went toward the tomb. The two were running together, but the other disciple outran Peter and reached the tomb first. He bent down to look in and saw the linen wrappings lying there, but he did not go in. Then Simon Peter came, following him, and went into the tomb. He saw the linen wrappings lying there, and the cloth that had been on Jesus' head, not lying with the linen wrappings but rolled up in a place by itself. Then the other disciple, who reached the tomb first, also went in, and he saw and believed; for as yet they did not understand the scripture, that he must rise from the dead. Then the disciples returned to their homes.

But Mary stood weeping outside the tomb. As she wept, she bent over to look into the tomb; and she saw two angels in white, sitting where the body of Jesus had been lying, one at the head and the other at the feet. They said to her, "Woman, why are you weeping?" She said to them, "They have taken away my Lord, and I do not know where they have laid him." When she had said this, she turned around and saw Jesus standing there, but she did not know that it was Jesus. Jesus said to her, "Woman, why are you weeping? Whom are you looking for?" Supposing him to be the gardener, she said to him, "Sir, if you have carried him away, tell me where you have laid him, and I will take him away." Jesus said to her, "Mary!" She turned and said to him in Hebrew, "Rabbouni!" (which means Teacher). Jesus said to her, "Do not hold on to me, because I have not yet ascended to the Father. But go to my brothers and say to them, 'I am ascending to my Father and your Father, to my God and your God.'" Mary Magdalene went and announced to the disciples, "I have seen the Lord"; and she told them that he had said these things to her.

Simply A True Myth

In an earlier post I talked a little bit about a reoccurring theme that pops up in many hero journeys—the idea that an ordinary or even unvalued character turns out to be the most important person in the story.  I talked about how it's a great place for everyone who's ever known rejection to relate to the hero and feel some of that same importance for themselves.  And let's face it, who among us has never known rejection?  Who doesn't want to be the Chosen One every once in a while?

Harry Potter living with the Dursleys.  Scrawny young Arthur as a Page known as "Wart."  Garian hidden away on Faldor's farm and raised by "Aunt Pol."  Luke Skywalker growing up on a moisture farm on Tatooine—I mean really, that's as close to an actual dirt farmer as you can get, right?

There's something that kind of rings hollow about the geek version of that theme, though.  The idea is that maybe the little ol' ostracized geek is actually vitally important because Harry was abused and look at him, he's the Chosen One!  But when push comes to shove, most of us aren't actually holding our breath for an owl to deliver our invitation into the wider wizarding world.  (Those of us who are actually so mentally ill and delusional as to have lost our grip on reality are actually very few and far-between—but that's a post for another day, perhaps.)


What I'm trying to say is that if this aspect of the hero journey is all that we have to lift ourselves up, we're in trouble.  Yes, it's awesome to watch Harry go from the Boy Who Lived Under the Stairs to the most important wizard in the world.  But it doesn't mean that I'm important.

Unless it turns out that I'm actually a powerful wizard.



Nope.

But check this out:  Once upon a time there was a little boy who loved to read.  In fact, he may very well grown up to be the most well-read man in human history.  He placed a great deal of value in mythology--in hero journeys.  And then, one day, a couple of friends took him on a long walk and convinced him that Christianity is the world's most important myth because it actually happened.

And that's how C.S. Lewis converted to Christianity.

The point I'm trying to make is that when I read the scripture and see that God sends an angel to the epitome of normal and unimportant—a young lady named Mary—it's actually very important.  Not just to the story, but to humanity.

You see, God could surely have saved humanity from on high, and all on God's own.  But God chose to involve Mary.  God chose to become human in the person of Jesus.

God chose to involve us in our own salvation.

And that doesn't just mean Jesus.  It doesn't just mean Mary.  It means that we all can and should be involved.

What I'm trying to say is that every one of us—even little ol' ostracized geeks—really are important.  We can't just sit around and wait for God to save us.  Apparently God doesn't save us without our own involvement.

Everything we do is important.  Because every choice we make either makes the world a little bit better, or a little bit worse.

It really is just that simple.

Be good to each other,
Rev. Josh
121614

The scripture lessons for December 21st—The Fourth Sunday of Advent Year B—are:
2 Samuel 7:1-11, 16—Psalm 89:1-4, 19-26—Romans 16:25-27—Luke 1:26-38