(Excerpted from The Harry Potter Bible Study: Enjoying God Through the Final Four Harry Potter Movies, by Jared Moore.)

Besides the theologians we have in Scripture, there has not been another theologian as influential in the church as early church father Bishop Augustine of Hippo. Although he wrote extensively, his most important writings were against the Pelagians. This group was named after their main leader Pelagius. He was a British monk known for his piety and strict discipline and was later condemned as a heretic.^[i]

Augustine taught all humans born since the Fall possessed sinful natures (original sin) from birth (Gen. 3).^[ii] Pelagius, on the other hand, believed all humans were born as innocent beings who later developed a sinful nature by freely choosing sin from the example of other sinful human beings.^[iii] In other words, Augustine believed the world is evil because humans are evil, while Pelagius believed humans are evil because the world is evil.

Often in ministry I have observed evangelicals who claim to believe all humans are born sinners (Augustine), and yet live as if their children will be corrupted by outside influences (Pelagius). Parents may profess their children are sinners, but they seek to protect them from a sinful world as if the world is the problem. The problem with our children is not outside influences but is instead their inside influences (Matt. 15:10-11, 17-20). If you and I merely protect our children from external sinful influences, which is impossible in an evil world, we will not address the source of their sin: themselves. Our children are what is wrong with the world; the world is not what is wrong with our children.

Instead of living as if our children “will be” corrupted by the world, we should teach them to handle their own sinful natures in a wicked world. In order to communicate this reality, we must tell our children they are what is wrong with the world. We must teach them they are sinners (Rom. 3:23) in desperate need of a Savior (John 14:6). Apart from His life, death, burial, and resurrection in their stead, there is no hope for them (Rom. 6:23). Christ’s finished work is their only hope for being reconciled to God the Father (Rom. 10:9-11; Col. 1:19-22).

By the time our children are 18 years of age, they should be prepared to live in a wicked world in which they are part of the wickedness. Though some may be saved, they must be prepared to face temptation since they still live in an evil world. We must thoroughly teach them the Scriptures and how to recognize the difference between truth and lies in their surrounding culture. If we believe the world is the problem, we will try to shield them from the world; however, if we believe they are the problem, we will instead teach them how to hide the Word of God in their hearts so they might not sin against God (Ps. 119:11).

Because we cannot separate our children from their sinful natures (Augustine), we must prepare them to handle their sinful natures. We must cultivate the fruit of the Spirit in our children, realizing they will always desire wickedness on earth; yet, they must learn to appropriate and cultivate the self-control of God the Holy Spirit, His fruit in their lives (Gal. 5:22-25). One of the biggest problems of children raised by evangelical Christians is they are not prepared to live in this world. Unfortunately, Augustinian parents are practicing the methodology of Pelagians. Our children do not know how to handle temptation whenever they cannot escape it because we have falsely deified our ability to protect our children, thus hindering the cultivation of personal self-control in their lives.

In other words, while trying to protect our children through legalistic boundaries, we have not prepared them to live in this wicked world. Yet temptation will knock on the door unannounced and uninvited (at times welcomed with open arms), and no amount of legalistic boundaries can stop it. If we have not taught our children how to respond to temptation by teaching them how to discern, we doom them for eventual failure.

One way to help our children cultivate discernment in this wicked world is to engage in the media wars with them as a guide. Just as Paul told the Corinthians, “Be imitators of me, as I am of Christ” (1 Cor. 11:1), we too must say to all of our observers, “Be imitators of my media participation, as I am of Christ.” Allow me to clarify my suggestion to purposely put ungodly behavior in front of your children. I’m not suggesting you expose children to immorality so that they will know what is immoral. We do not want to tempt our children to sin. Rather, I am suggesting parents thoroughly teach children the Scriptures, and then teach them the difference between truth and lies in pop culture, in light of the Scriptures.

All forms of media, regardless of their rating, intended audience, genre, etc., contain truth and lies woven together into an ungodly web. We must teach our children how to untangle this web. One way to teach our children how to separate truth from lies is to show them how to use discernment as they participate in media. In our media-driven world, our children will participate in media, and they will either participate like Christians or like non-Christians. Unfortunately, many evangelical Christians participate in media like non-Christians, simply drinking deeply of all they see and hear without separating truth from lies.

The purpose of media participation is worship. In order to enjoy God through media, Christians must submit to God’s revealed Word in light of Christ’s finished work and take every thought captive to obey Christ (2 Cor. 10:5). In other words, Christians must be on their knees in their cultures worshiping God through recognizing His fingerprints in the media produced by God’s fallen image-bearers. In the words of Augustine, Christians must plunder the Egyptians:

For, as the Egyptians had not only the idols and heavy burdens which the people of Israel hated and fled from, but also vessels and ornaments of gold and silver, and garments, which the same people when going out of Egypt appropriated to themselves, designing them for a better use, not doing this on their own authority, but by the command of God, the Egyptians themselves, in their ignorance, providing them with things which they themselves, were not making a good use of [Exod. 3:21-22; Exod. 12:35-36]; in the same way all branches of heathen learning have not only false and superstitious fancies and heavy burdens of unnecessary toil, which every one of us, when going out under the leadership of Christ from the fellowship of the heathen, ought to abhor and avoid; but they contain also liberal instruction which is better adapted to the use of the truth, and some most excellent precepts of morality; and some truths in regard even to the worship of the One God are found among them. Now these are, so to speak, their gold and silver, which they did not create themselves, but dug out of the mines of God’s providence which are everywhere scattered abroad, and are perversely and unlawfully prostituting to the worship of devils. These, therefore, the Christian, when he separates himself in spirit from the miserable fellowship of these men, ought to take away from them, and to devote to their proper use in preaching the gospel. Their garments, also,—that is, human institutions such as are adapted to that intercourse with men which is indispensable in this life,—we must take and turn to a Christian use.^[iv]

Evangelical Christians must train themselves and their children to plunder pagan media for the “gold” and “silver” and put them to Christian use.

^[i] Justo L. González, The Story of Christianity: The Early Church to the Dawn of the Reformation (San Francisco: Harper & Row, 1984), 214.

^[ii] Ibid., 214-215.

^[iii] Ibid., 215.

^[iv] Marcus Dods, ed., The Works of Aurelius Augustine, Bishop of Hippo: A New Translation, Vol. IX – On Christian Doctrine; The Enchiridion; On Catechising; and On Faith and the Creed (Edinburgh: T. & T. Clark, 1892), 76.

(Originally published at JaredMoore.ExaltChrist.com. Reprinted with permission.)

If you haven’t seen the still-new teaser for The Hobbit (part 1) yet, then congratulations! — to me, for I have one more Christmas present: being able to show it to you, right here.

You can also download the highest-quality versions from Apple, or read an exhaustive frame-by-frame analysis from TheOneRing.net.

My personal preference, having already done all those tasks, is to play the deep, somber Dwarven song (adapted from Tolkien’s own lyrics in The Hobbit book) repeatedly in my mind, and add to my anticipation of Dec. 14, 2012 — the film’s release date, in the U.S.

The Hobbit: An Unexpected Journey is the first of a two-part film, much like Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows did so successfully. Its second part releases December 2013.

Both films will be in 3D, not converted in post-production, but filmed that way, in super-bright colors, so that Middle-Earth may appear even more incredible than it did in the first Lord of the Rings films. In my view, I think that will head off director Peter Jackson’s yearning (which makes sense) to top the first three films. I meant that instead of turning The Hobbit, which should be more “fun” than The Lord of the Rings, into a darker story, he may redirect that impulse into making the film better in technical quality, and in 3D.

Yet there’s yet another dimension to The Hobbit finally being made into a blockbuster live-action film, with all the same producers and actors (plus some new ones). By that I mean that Christians, and especially those who have promoted The Lord of the Rings in somewhat partial-truth ways, could be confused about how to react to The Hobbit.

I’ll have that question for readers, at the end of this year-end hodgepodge-topic column.

Tolkien in the Library

The SF Library’s 300th added title

Because of our odd order of adding previously released books to the Speculative Faith Library, some time passed before we’ve finally began placing Tolkien’s classics on our cyber-shelves. Just this week, I added what happened to be our 300th title, The Lord of the Rings: The Fellowship of the Ring itself. Before that, The Hobbit was also added.

The Library keeps growing, with classic Christian fantasy and contemporary novels being added all the time. In coming months, we will couple those with even more info about each book — interaction, links, and reviews that keep in mind readers of all ages.

The wizards’ Christmas quest

After Fred Warren’s overview on Tuesday of the (three?) wise men’s journey to see the newborn Jesus, I had to share this similar brilliance from David (not Johnny!) Mathis:

These Dudes Aren’t Kings

Now “We Three Kings” is a wonderful Christmas song. Perhaps the Beach Boys’ version is best, if that’s not too sacrilegious to say. I’m not eager to play the spoiler here, but these dudes aren’t kings. They are pagan astrologers, not too far from what we’d call sorcerers and wizards.

Gandalf and Dumbledore are coming to worship the baby Jesus.

These magi are not respected kings but pagan specialists in the supernatural, experts in astrology, magic, and divination, blatant violators of Old Testament law — and they are coming to worship Jesus.

We really should beware of having a narrower vision of who can come to Jesus than God does. We can be so prone to write off people like this, but God doesn’t. He draws. He woos. He’s seeking worshipers from among the priestly caste of pagan religion. There will be worshipers from Hogwarts, even from Slytherin.

_{From We Three Kings of Orient Aren’t, David Mathis, DesiringGod.org, Dec. 24, 2011 (boldface emphases added)}

Now it would be one thing if someone from Speculative Faith, or a Christian fantasy author, had written this. Yet this comes from one of those nonfiction-prone Christian-Leader types. They are doing just what we may hope: using even “secular” stories, with discernment, to back up (not prove!) the Bible’s greatest Story, whose Hero is Christ.

Mathis added, in a shorter piece the following day:

This is astounding — that God is welcoming the magi, and not on the provision that they first abandon their life of astrology and magic. No, he comes to them where they are, in their sin. He goes as far as to exploit the very channel of their deepest idolatry to draw them to Jesus.

_{From That Crazy Star of Bethlehem, David Mathis, DesiringGod.org, Dec. 25, 2011}

In the new year, may we all grow in Biblically balanced discernment — not accepting stories with false beliefs or enjoying them only because of baseless “freedom,” but for the truths they do include and the glories God dares to reflect even in a fallen world.

That’s especially true, given the sobering risks of falling to one extreme or the other …

Dark books, the Devil, and Driscoll

Once again, a popular and solid Christian leader shows — even if not a severe lack of grasping true speculative-story discernment — an ironic contradiction of his own ethic.

Today’s installment in this recurring meme comes courtesy of Seattle pastor Mark Driscoll. Overall, I like this guy. He preaches the Gospel of repentance and faith, and talks tough (mostly for right reasons). For all of you folks who dislike legalism and fake religious systems, Driscoll comes across as delightfully contrarian. He doesn’t wear a suit and tie, does the contemporary-worship-but-with-substance thing, and writes books about doctrine in popular language (or his best attempts at replicating it).

So how come Driscoll issues such cultural-fundie-sounding critiques of popular books?

The latest such critique is from Driscoll’s Facebook page, along with a photo showing a row of admittedly uniform-looking book covers, over which a sign declares that this is a bookstore’s Teen Paranormal Romance section. “Took Ashley book buying @ Barnes & Noble,” Driscoll explains. “We both nearly died seeing this section.”

Though he doesn’t say so here, Driscoll has previously claimed that books like Twilight are obviously “demonic” and should therefore Christians should avoid them.

I’m no Twilight fan. (Here are partial reasons why I’m not.) But neither do I agree with claiming things are “demonic” based only on appearances. Previously I’ve said Driscoll’s “discernment” here both fails to consider all Biblical principles and is self-contradictory. Here’s a guy who dresses in nontraditional dress styles, based on freedom in Christ and things like that, and (rightly, perhaps) believes that kind of presentation doesn’t matter. And then he goes off and judges books, quite literally, based only on their covers.

In this case, Driscoll’s Facebook photo post generated the expected level of controversy — actually, responses that (so far) never interacted with one another.

Also predictably, most of the responses took opposite and extreme sides:

• “I’m scared for my future children” vs. “A judgemental spirit is no solution”
• And (this was a single short response) “demonic attack” vs. (un-bracketed ellipses in original) “it is fiction…and there is nothing satanic about it…lighten up people..if it gets kids reading..I say good…. […] Kids KNOW it is fiction…”

These kinds of (in my view) equal-opposite and imbalanced responses are part of why Speculative Faith exists. We need to think Biblically about secular fiction, neither calling it “demonic” based only on appearance, nor assuming fiction has no effect on readers.

Also, I’m not sure how one guy saying “[Cuss redacted] you Twilight…” helps anything.

Christmas Un-Specials

Last Christmas, I gave you — no, not my heart, but a list of 50 “un-gifts” that were likely lackluster because so many true-life holiday gift items are already ridiculously silly.

This year, to save me from tears, I came up with 50 “Christmas Un-Specials”: titles and quick summaries of holiday movies that, with only a few exceptions, have never been made and we hope will never be made. Examples:

1. “Christmas Crash.” After Christmas Eve wreck, family learns the greatest gift ever is a new car.

6. “Happy Holi-delays.” Working Dec. 25, TSA agents find peace, romance, and new gifts, on the job.

8.  “Trans4mers: North Polarization.” Flat hero and hot elves fight Robots. Directed by Michael Bay.

21. “A Thomas Kinkade Christmas.” Sweet cottages full of light and hope may also hold dark secrets.

46. “Camping Christmas.” Radio evangelist stuns world by successfully predicting holiday on Dec 25.

The complete list is here.

Why should Christians hype ‘The Hobbit’?

“We come to it at last.” Here’s my final question for Speculative Faith readers, focusing on the upcoming The Hobbit film, part 1. It’s this:

Why should Christians promote reading, or viewing, The Hobbit?

You may know exactly why: it’s by the very Christian Tolkien (as Becky re-confirmed on Monday); the stories are unparalleled in originality and craftsmanship; and the world of Middle-earth is just as “real” and amazing a myth, if not more so, as any other.

We may know this, though we struggle to articulate it sometimes. But do others?

The heroic Hobbit, but not a Christ-figure. (If everyone’s a Christ-figure, no one is.)

For The Lord of the Rings, Christian movie reviews, articles, and books fell uniformly into a rather singular promotion: Tolkien was a Christian; there isn’t much troublesome “magic”; and Gandalf, Frodo, Aragorn are like prophet, priest, and king, respectively, very much like Jesus. Similar techniques were used to “sell” the Narnia films, especially the first. I worked at a Christian bookstore shortly thereafter, and well recall all the Finding God In … books for either franchise, or even a stack of tracts with Aslan on front.

Will all that occur with The Hobbit? I highly doubt it!

Do Hobbit characters have even slight allegorical references? Not that I can think of — not without already knowing Middle-earth’s foundation or what they did at other times.

Does The Hobbit have some messianic undertones, a la even the Harry Potter series? No.

Thus, all the usual means of Christian promotion of secular stories seem to be missing. Those who try to justify it as an “allegory,” or even a Biblical-like battle between good and evil, will have to stretch their interpretations a lot for this mainly-for-fun fairy tale.

Yet The Hobbit is a joyous, timeless story, interlinked with The Lord of the Rings and the vast world of J.R.R. Tolkien’s making. It reflects his Christian worldview implicitly, with its themes of heroism, beauty, striving for new adventure beyond one’s own comfort zones, and “eucatastrophe” — the sudden change of horrible evils into incredible good. This story need not be seen, or “sold,” to Christian audiences as any more than that.

Perhaps you agree. Or perhaps you see more specific “evangelical” elements that some Christian reviewers could pull out of (or push into!) The Hobbit and the film versions. If so, what would those evangelical-friendly elements be?

Hold it…Christmas is over, right?

Not so fast, pilgrim. The Christmas story still has one more episode yet to unfold: the visit of the wise men, the Magi, celebrated in the feast of Epiphany, on or about January 6.

Men of Mystery...following yonder star.

There’s a lot of folklore that’s grown up around the Magi. We don’t know precisely where they came from, their names, or how many there were, though the carols and stories around the hearth leave the impression that we do. Some writers have connected them with Daniel’s legacy in ancient Persia. They were stargazers, probably astrologers rather than astronomers, though magic and science tended to overlap quite a bit in those days. They most likely weren’t present at the manger and may have arrived in Bethlehem up to two years later.

Mostly, they’re a puzzlement. They were pagans, and Gentiles, yet they sought the King of the Jews and undertook a long, hazardous journey to find him. They were the only ones who recognized Jesus as civil royalty, lavishing him with rich gifts at his coming. God provided a sign in the heavens appropriate for them to correctly interpret and follow, though the Scriptures condemn the practice of astrology. Why them? What need was there for Jesus to be celebrated as a legitimate ruler on Earth, by them? I don’t know. Gallons of ink and reams of paper have been expended in attempts to comprehend the enigma of the Magi, and I can’t add to this storehouse of scholarship in a few lines on a blog, even if I wanted to. Frankly, I love a good mystery, and I’m content in this situation to accept the answer, “just because.”

Not a plausible explanation.

The Star of Bethlehem also generates a lot of speculative energy this time of year, and there’s always the requisite news interview with an astronomer who racks and stacks the various plausible scientific explanations for a phenomenon Christians are perfectly willing to accept as miraculous. This article favors a planetary conjunction of Venus and Jupiter, though comets and supernovae are also considered. If you’ve been watching the conjunction of the Moon and Venus the past couple of nights, you have an idea of how impressive the near approach of two bright celestial bodies can be. In the final analysis, the why and how, again, aren’t so important. Something remarkable happened, and it brought the Magi to the place and time they needed to be.

Also dramatized in an episode of The Twilight Zone

When people start chatting about the Christmas Star, I always think about Arthur C. Clarke’s classic short story, “The Star,” in which a crew of space archaeologists finds an archive of artifacts from an extinct alien civilization, with a disturbing connection to the Nativity story. The protagonist, a Jesuit scientist, assembles the evidence into a result that leaves his faith, like a Bond martini, shaken, not stirred.

The outcome isn’t especially surprising. Clarke was an atheist, though he admitted a lifelong fascination with the idea of God, and he trips over the standard paradox that is a deal-breaker for most atheists—bad things happen to good people. Clarke was a talented writer with considerable foresight, one of our modern Magi, if you will, wandering through the wilderness in search of he knew not what, but unwilling to follow the Star shining brilliantly in the night sky nor to believe it could possibly point to the truth.

"Still seek Him, wise men do."

May we have eyes to see the Star that still illuminates our world this Christmas season, the wisdom to comprehend its significance, and the humility to follow it.

Purely for fun and no profit, this year I made up a list of 50 holiday-related TV movies that (with a few exceptions) have never been produced — I hope.

I re-present them here, my own post-Christmas “gift” to readers, for your edification and encouragement — because these don’t exist. (Except for Barbie Nutcracker, which is in fact a real movie. And, as I found out the day after Christmas, so is Barbie Christmas Carol.)

1. “Christmas Crash.” After Christmas Eve wreck, family learns the greatest gift ever is a new car.
2. “Rudolph IV.” Aged reindeer with burned-out magic red nose learns being special isn’t important.
3. “Oh Holy Night, Batman!” The caped crusader must team up with Mr. Freeze to save the North Pole.
4. “Blues Christmas.” Back from death on Christmas Day, Elvis takes fans on one last holiday tour.
5. “The Greatest Angel.” As the best of heavenly warriors, Michael gives best gift to newborn King.
6. “Happy Holi-delays.” Working Dec. 25, TSA agents find peace, romance, and new gifts, on the job.
7. “Wreck the Halls.” Dysfunctional family learns chaos, not organization, is the way to celebrate!
8. “Trans4mers: North Polarization.” Flat hero and hot elves fight Robots. Directed by Michael Bay.
9. “Man in Red.” Santa saves his *own* Christmas. With no help from cartoons, puppies, or *anyone*.
10. “Love Verbs Adverbingly: A Christmas Miracle for Your Family’s Wishes of the Heart.” … Because.
11. “Murder on the Polar Express.” This wacky holiday mystery invites you to deduce while you dine.
12. “Satan Claus.” Conservative families’ fears prove true, as “Santa” finally calls in his favors.
13. “Elf on the Self.” Magic holiday decoration teaches children that they are what truly matters.
14. “Apollo 12/25.” A “found footage” film of NASA’s secret and horrible North Pole crash-landing.
15. “A Christmas Cartel.” Drug lords inhale their own product and journey to magical holiday lands.
16. “The Santa Suit.” Claus goes to court vs. all sales, stores and items claiming to be “Santa’s.”
17. “Killer Frosty.” Evil aliens brainwash the mind of the classic snowman to bring holiday horror.
18. “Barbie Nutcracker.” Timeless seasonal ballet, now with more plastic and more radical feminism.
19. “Justin Bieber’s Best Christmas Pageant Ever.” Despised pop star gives a heartfelt performance.
20. “The Christmas Socks.” Kind-hearted store owner invites poor begging waif to work for new gift.
21. “A Thomas Kinkade Christmas.” Sweet cottages full of light and hope may also hold dark secrets.
22. “Playboy Holiday.” Dirty media empire tries to sweeten image with perfume gifts. (Not made up.)
23. “Ornaments.” Magical holiday decorations come to life when owners are away. From @DisneyPixar .
24. “Karl the Radical Reindeer.” Disenfranchised sleigh-puller forms a union for North Pole rights.
25. “The Jar-Jar Binks Holiday Special.” Holiday hijinks with Binks, plus newer fun CGI characters!
26. “The Christmas Cut.” Workshop elves must quickly find a cure for Santa’s male pattern baldness.
27. “A Pyongyang Carol.” Ghosts of Hussein, Gaddafi, and bin Laden show Kim Jong Un a better path.
28. “Christmas Don’t Be Late.” CGI chipmunks, etc., puns, innuendo, poop jokes, etc. Could be real.
29. “iBrainimplant.” Hectic holiday shoppers learn the best and newest gift is already inside them.
30. “Arctic Village.” Shocking end: they are men and *we’re* elves. Directed by M. Night Shyamalan.
31. “A Christopher Nolan Carol.” Holiday dreams … within a dream. (BWAAAAAHHHMMM. Jingle-jingle.)
32. “Santa Baby.” Supermodels vie to date the North Pole’s most eligible. (Probably already done.)
33. “Frosty the Postman.” Friendly mail-carrier with button nose might melt, thanks to budget cuts.
34. “Trump Card.” Famed mogul celebrates Christmas, no, actually Hanukkah, no actually, “Kwanzaa” …
35. “Relative Visits with the Stars.” “Reality TV” celebrities battle holiday family dysfunctions.
36. “House for the Holidays.” Doctor who Breaks All the Rules™ meets three spirits, left unchanged.
37. “Al Gore’s Winter Feature.” Former leader combats polluters, loggers and whalers at North Pole.
38. “Grown-Up Christmas List.” Humans ensure right always wins, somehow also without starting wars.
39. “Christmas Is.” Religio-conservative leaders promote True Meanings. Brought to you by Fox News.
40. “The Tick Loves Santa!” Hilarious superhero fights evil “Multiple Santa” villain. This is real.
    

    "No! I just can't hit Santa!" (Later …) "Okay, odds are it wasn't the real Santa. But how can you ever be sure?"

41. “Lights Out.” Old decorations come to life to teach consumers a lesson. Directed by Tim Burton.
42. “Parson Brown.” Holiday “comedy” with hijinks of an eccentric Las Vegas wedding chapel manager.
43. “Christmas in … Space.” The crew of the “Enterprise” follows a star— actually several million.
44. “Love, Peace, Joy.” Based on the popular book, Women Like You® fulfill their own holiday wishes.
45. “Occupy Mall Street.” Protestors learn true love and peace at the feet of comical retail Santa.
46. “Camping Christmas.” Radio evangelist stuns world by successfully predicting holiday on Dec 25.
47. “Johnny Mantis.” Animated; features voice of the popular singer. Insect teaches others to give.
48. “Much Mistletoeing.” Hilarity ensues when video-game slackers try to be first under the plant.
49. “Carol of the Bell.” Religious writer promises all will someday receive eternal holiday gifts.
50. “Ho Ho Ho, Who Wouldn’t Go?” Santa’s magical overnight journey is imperiled by call of nature.

Few people, even those not well-versed in fantasy, will argue against the idea that J. R. R. Tolkien is the master of the fantasy genre. In that he wrote his thoughts about this type of tale in his essay “On Fairy-Stories,” he has become the expert to whom writers turn when wishing to understand the genre better. In this last in the series discussing his essay, we’ve come to the crux of Tolkien’s beliefs.

First, Tolkien made a case for the place of escape in stories, and Mankind’s desire for it — escape from the ugliness and disruption of modern technology, escape from suffering and ultimately from death, escape from that which binds us, such as the inability to commune with other animals or to explore the sea or fly free.

But more than giving “imaginative satisfaction of ancient desires,” fairy-stories give the “Consolation of the Happy Ending” — as defining of fantasy as tragedy is to the true form of Drama. Tolkien coined the word Eucatastrophe to identify this happy-ending distinctive. “The eucatastrophic tale is the true form of fairy-tale, and its highest function. (emphasis mine)”

There’s more to Tolkien’s happy ending, however, than the idea that the protagonist wins. Rather, the happy ending is closer to a good catastrophe — “the sudden joyous ‘turn’ ” from impending disaster. It is

a sudden and miraculous grace: never to be counted on to recur. It does not deny the existence of dyscatastrophe, of sorrow and failure: the possibility of these is necessary to the joy of deliverance; it denies (in the face of much evidence, if you will) universal final defeat and in so far is evangelium [of the gospel], giving a fleeting glimpse of Joy, Joy beyond the walls of the world, poignant as grief.

It is the mark of a good fairy-story, of the higher or more complete kind, that however wild its events, however fantastic or terrible the adventures, it can give to child or man that hears it, when the “turn” comes, a catch of the breath, a beat and lifting of the heart, near to (or indeed accompanied by) tears, as keen as that given by any form of literary art, and having a peculiar quality. (emphasis mine)

“A sudden, miraculous grace.” Here is Tolkien’s understanding of the happy ending, in the face of apparent defeat, after the experience of hardship and loss. The reality of the joy is so much greater because of the reality of the deadly circumstances from which the ending turns. How perfectly Lord of the Rings illustrates what Tolkien believed. After all his hardships, Frodo succumbs to the power of the One Ring, only to lose it because his kindness spared his nemesis.

In reality, C. S. Lewis’s The Last Battle is an equally good illustration: against insurmountable odds, Aslan turns the very means of defeat into a passage to greatest victory, further up and further in. J. K. Rowling creates this same kind of turn in the last of the Harry Potter books, when Voldemort defeats Harry, but in so doing destroys the final horcrux and brings about his own demise.

As I see it, the real challenge for the fantasy writer, then, is to find fresh ways to turn a story from catastrophe to joy. Tolkien elaborates on this turn from defeat to victory:

Probably every writer making a secondary world, a fantasy, every sub-creator, wishes in some measure to be a real maker, or hopes that he is drawing on reality: hopes that the peculiar quality of this secondary world (if not all the details) are derived from Reality, or are flowing into it. . . The peculiar quality of the “joy” in successful Fantasy can thus be explained as a sudden glimpse of the underlying reality or truth. It is not only a “consolation” for the sorrow of this world, but a satisfaction, and an answer to that question, “Is it true?” (emphasis mine)

The first consideration is, “Is it true in this world?” Hence, in the world of Harry Potter, where witches and wizards can be either good or bad, is the story of Harry’s triumph over Voldemort true in the sense that it has an inner consistency?

But this truth connected to the eucatastrophe has broader implications: “in the ‘eucatastrophe’ we see in a brief vision that the answer may be greater — it may be a far-off gleam or echo of evangelium [the gospel] in the real world.” Not an allegorical representation but more than a symbolic nod. Rather, this echo or gleam is more nearly a type characterizing reality, just as King David in the Old Testament was a type characterizing Christ, the soon and coming King.

Tolkien concludes:

The Gospels contain a fairy-story, or a story of a larger kind which embraces all the essence of fairy-stories. They contain many marvels — peculiarly artistic, beautiful, and moving: “mythical” in their perfect, self-contained significance; and among the marvels is the greatest and most complete conceivable eucatastrophe. But this story has entered History and the primary world; the desire and aspiration of sub-creation has been raised to the fulfillment of Creation. The Birth of Christ is the eucatastrophe of Man’s history. The Resurrection is the eucatastrophe of the story of the Incarnation. This story begins and ends in joy. It has pre-eminently the “inner consistency of reality.” There is no tale ever told that men would rather find was true, and none which so many sceptical men have accepted as true on its own merits. For the Art of it has the supremely convincing tone of Primary Art, that is, of Creation. To reject it leads either to sadness or to wrath.

It is not difficult to imagine the peculiar excitement and joy that one would feel, if any specially beautiful fairy-story were found to be “primarily” true, its narrative to be history, without thereby necessarily losing the mythical or allegorical significance that it had possessed. It is not difficult, for one is not called upon to try and conceive anything of a quality unknown. The joy would have exactly the same quality, if not the same degree, as the joy which the “turn” in a fairy-story gives: such joy has the very taste of primary truth. (Otherwise its name would not be joy.) It looks forward . . . to the Great Eucatastrophe. The Christian joy, the Gloria, is of the same kind; but it is preeminently (infinitely, if our capacity were not finite) high and joyous. But this story is supreme; and it is true. Art has been verified. God is the Lord, of angels, and of men — and of elves. Legend and History have met and fused.

But in God’s kingdom the presence of the greatest does not depress the small. Redeemed Man is still man. Story, fantasy, still go on, and should go on. The Evangelium has not abrogated legends; it has hallowed them, especially the “happy ending.” The Christian has still to work, with mind as well as body, to suffer, hope, and die; but he may now perceive that all his bents and faculties have a purpose, which can be redeemed. So great is the bounty with which he has been treated that he may now, perhaps, fairly dare to guess that in Fantasy he may actually assist in the effoliation and multiple enrichment of creation. All tales may come true; and yet, at the last, redeemed, they may be as like and as unlike the forms that we give them as Man, finally redeemed, will be like and unlike the fallen that we know. (pp 23-24 — emphases mine)

What do you think? Is Tolkien’s idea of the happy ending possible story after story, or has his end been done so often, grace will no longer be a surprise? Must the fairy story, of necessity, undergo some change in order to remain fresh and interesting, or is the onus on the writer to find ways to make grace still a surprise even when we’re expecting it?

Image courtesy of christmas-clipart.com

The Spec Faith regular contributors want to wish you a blessed Christmas. May you enjoy rich times with your family and wonderful worship of Christ, our Savior, Redeemer, and Lord.

We will continue with our regular schedule of posts next week.

Okay, this is getting ridiculous.

Not this blog series. At least, I hope none of you think that. But I’ve noticed a pattern. Whenever I sit down to write one of these columns, NASA announces that they’ve found more extra-solar planets. Case in point: yesterday NASA announced they found two planets that are the same size as Earth but are outside their stars Goldilocks zone. It’s like NASA wants to help me prove a point: there are a lot of planets out there. Could some have life? Maybe, maybe not.

So far in this series, we’ve covered whether the Bible precludes alien life (it doesn’t, in my not-so-humble opinion) and whether or not aliens could have souls (better to assume they do). But a master of Christian fiction once asked a more provocative question: if we ever do encounter aliens, would they need to hear the Gospel or not? To put it more bluntly, he asked this question: should we assume that all aliens have fallen as humans have?

Who is this great theologian with aliens on the brain? Why, none other than the master himself, C. S. Lewis. In the book The World’s Last Night, Lewis included an essay entitled “Religion and Rocketry,” in which he discusses the whole alien question pretty thoroughly. As a matter of fact, while reviewing the essay Tuesday afternoon, I realized that pretty much anything I have to say on the subject, he does it better and in less space than I could. I was almost tempted to tell all of you to just go read the essay and be done with it, but then, I’d have nothing for these columns. I’d have to come up with something else and, truth be told, I’m a little lazy, so there.

Anyway, Lewis goes over the whole possibility of alien life business (pointing out that the existence of alien life is no real threat to Christianity), and then he asks a series of questions that he calls “formidable.”

Today I wanted to bring up his third question (we’ve covered the first two already):

If there are species, and rational species, other than man, are any or all of them, like us, fallen? This is the point non-Christians always seem to forget. They seem to think that the Incarnation implies some particular merit or excellence in humanity. But of course it implies just the reverse: a particular demerit and depravity. No creature that deserved Redemption would need to be redeemed. They that are whole need not the physician. Christ died for men precisely because men are not worth dying for; to make them worth it. [p. 86]

Lewis brings up a good point: how would we even know if intelligent alien life is sinful and fallen or not? And if they are sinful, how did they get that way? Did they fall with us? Or did they fall on their own?

While Lewis doesn’t go into great detail on those questions in his essay, he did play around with them in his Space Trilogy. Specifically, he explores those ideas in the first two books, namely Out of the Silent Planet and Perelandra. In those stories, Lewis dances on the edge of a theological tree branch over the whole question of how sin would relate to alien life. And while he never states this explicitly, if you read carefully between the lines you can suss out his theological underpinnings, which are basically as follows:

1) Every sentient race is given an “Eden” period, a time of childhood, so to speak.

2) In this Edenic period, they are given a moral rule of some kind. On Earth, it was don’t eat the fruit. On Venus (in Perelandra), the rule is to not spend the night on solid ground.

3) If the race overcomes the temptation, they “grow up” as a race and become adults. If they don’t, they fall into sin an need redemption.

4) The sins of one race doesn’t cause others to fall (although they can poison another planet from a distance).

This last one is pure supposition:

5) If a race has fallen, God will send His Son to sacrifice Himself for that race’s sins in a way that is significant for them.

Lewis touches on this point in his essay:

[I]f we knew that Redemption by an Incarnation and Passion had been denied to creatures in need of it—is it certain that this is the only mode of Redemption that is possible? . . . There might be different sorts and different degrees of fallenness. We must surely believe that the divine charity is as fertile in resource as it is measureless in condescension. To different diseases, or even to different patients sick with the same disease, the great Physician may have applied different remedies; remedies which we should probably not recognize as such even if we ever heard of them. [p.87]

This could be fertile ground for speculative fiction, but I suspect that, as Christians, we’d have a hard time of dreaming of different “medicines.” At least, whenever I read Christian spec fic and there’s a redemptive sacrifice, death and resurrection are almost always involved.

Nevertheless, this presents one possible cosmology: each alien race, isolated on their own planets, at least one fallen, some possibly not. Perhaps different salvation stories cherished and treasured by those who encountered Christ in their own way. The conflict would come when a fallen race meets and unfallen one, which was the basis for Lewis’s trilogy.

As much as I appreciate Lewis’s theological ruminations, I once had fun playing with the opposite idea. But that’s a story for two weeks from now. In the meantime, have a blessed Christmas and remember, Christ became incarnate, not because we deserved it, but precisely because we didn’t. Is it any wonder we keep coming back to C. S. Lewis?

The fourth candle flickers in the Advent wreath—the Angels’ Candle, the Candle of Peace. The final chorus of the heavenly choir still reverberates in the chill midnight air:

Glory to God in the highest, and on Earth peace, goodwill toward men.

Peace? But we’re in a war now. The pagan hordes, with their serial shopping, and mulled cider, and solstice-worshipping, and Satan Claus, and lightbulb-nosed reindeer are about to steal something precious from us. They don’t understand the real meaning of Christmas. Why won’t they stop meddling with it and leave us to mark the birth of our Savior in reverent contemplation?

…for behold, I bring you good tidings of great joy, which shall be to all people.

Stupid angels couldn’t even get their lines right. They were clearly supposed to say all believers. Those other people can’t even comprehend what they’re supposed to be celebrating. One more excuse to throw a party.

I’d like to propose, just for a moment, that they do get it. They may not know what to do with it, not yet, but on some level, the lost of this world who have heard about Christmas understand that something miraculous happened 2000 or so years ago, something that made the world different, and they want a piece of it. They know it’s not really about the presents, and the parties, and the tinsel. You can read any number of secular Christmas stories centered on this very theme. They’re about hope, and love, and joy, and peace. All the things they really want out of life, when it comes right down to it. The same gifts carried to Earth by the Savior whose birth we Christians celebrate.

As an example, I’d like to consider one of the most popular and enduring secular Christmas stories ever written. It’s a fantasy, and a children’s story: How the Grinch Stole Christmas! by Dr. Seuss.

It’s a very simple yet profound tale, written with Theodore Geisel’s trademark wit and clever poetry. The Grinch, a nondescript, grouchy hermit, peers down from his mountain lair and contemplates the impending Christmas festivities of his neighbors, the Whos. The Grinch’s quiet solitude is shattered every December by their raucous merrymaking. This year, he’s determined to put a stop to it once and for all. But how?

He hatches a rather elegant, if harebrained, plan. He’ll don a Santa Claus disguise and swoop into sleeping Whoville on Christmas Eve, steal all their presents and holiday frippery, and then dump it off the side of a mountain. No presents, no Christmas, and a town full of quiet, miserable Whos. The best of all possible worlds.

Improbably, the Grinch succeeds, and as he prepares to jettison all the loot, he pauses to listen for the Whos’ wails of despair as they wake to discover their houses stripped and their gifts plundered.

But there are no wails. Instead, the Whos gather around their now Christmas tree-less town square, join hands, and sing—just as they do every year. The Grinch is perplexed, and in a bolt of revelation, realizes he’s gotten the whole thing wrong. He’s mistaken their generosity for materialism, and their fellowship for self-indulgent revelry. The fooflunkers and gardinkers are only incidental to the Whos’ celebration. Christmas is about what they’re doing in that empty town square, together, right now.

It rocks his world. A transformed Grinch swoops back into Whoville, returns all the things he’s stolen, and joins in their feast with a revived and expanded heart–and the promise of a better, fuller, richer life ahead.

In like manner, even among the clutter of trees and elves and snowmen at Christmastime, people’s hearts turn toward the families they may have been neglecting, or the poor and suffering neighbors they’ve ignored.

Even in the midst of bloody conflict that makes our “Culture Wars” look petty and trivial by comparison, armies have paused their bullet shooting and grenade launching and bomb dropping as a tenor voice drifts across no-man’s land: “Stille Nacht, Heilege Nacht, Alles schläft; einsam wacht…” And another voice joins in, and another, and then a dozen more, from across the trenches: “Silent Night, Holy Night…Douce nuit, sainte nuit…”

Enemies and allies cross battle lines to shake hands, and for a moment, they all listen in wonder. It’s not hard to imagine the angels joining in the chorus, even here, even now.

And for nearly fifty years in America, television executives who wouldn’t dare let a breath of religion onto the prime-time airwaves for fear of offending someone have put a little cartoon boy into a spotlight on an abandoned stage and let him tell the story of Christmas straight from the Bible.

“…and that’s what Christmas is all about, Charlie Brown.”

So, I urge you, don’t be stingy this year with the gifts you’ve so generously received from on high, and don’t begrudge those still wandering a glimmer of that same illumination, just as freely given. Don’t fear the distractions. The truth is more powerful than any number of myths, legends, or advertising agencies. Satan may be the author of many reprehensible and deceptive works, but he is most certainly not the author of hope, or love, or joy, or peace. And he can’t stop Christmas from coming or steal it away from us. He failed at that scheme a long, long time ago. Paraphrasing Dr. Seuss:

It came despite presents.

"Welcome, Christmas..."

It came despite tags.

It came despite packages, boxes and bags.

He hadn’t stopped Christmas from coming. It came!

Somehow or other, it came, just the same.

Would J. R. R. Tolkien, if he were alive today, be a fan of prairie romance? The question is appropriate because of what he wrote in his essay “On Fairy-Stories” regarding escapism. Most speculative writers are familiar with his analogy about prisoners escaping to go home versus deserters escaping their commitments. We conclude, then, that Tolkien approved escape. But escape from what?

One thing he seemingly felt needed escape was the clutter and chaos man created with his technological advances — “mechanical traffic” and “robot factories.” In this regard, fantasies were not the exclusive means of escape. Rather, historical fiction, including romance set in an earlier time, would work equally well.

Tolkien’s chief complaint against the advances of his day seemed to center on the idea that these changes, “here to stay,” were part of the “real world,” subjugating things of a more simple time as less real.

For my part, I cannot convince myself that the roof of Bletchley station is more “real” than the clouds. And as an artefact I find it less inspiring than the legendary dome of heaven . . . And if we leave aside for a moment “fantasy,” I do not think that the reader or the maker of fairy-stories need even be ashamed of the “escape” of archaism: of preferring not dragons but horses, castles, sailing-ships, bows and arrows; not only elves, but knights and kings and priests. For it is after all possible for a rational man, after reflection (quite unconnected with fairy-story or romance), to arrive at the condemnation, implicit at least in the mere silence of “escapist” literature, of progressive things like factories, or the machine-guns and bombs that appear to be their most natural and inevitable, dare we say “inexorable,” products.

“The rawness and ugliness of modern European life”—that real life whose contact we should welcome —“is the sign of a biological inferiority, of an insufficient or false reaction to environment.” The maddest castle that ever came out of a giant’s bag in a wild Gaelic story is not only much less ugly than a robot-factory, it is also (to use a very modern phrase) “in a very real sense” a great deal more real. [From “On Fairy-Stories,” p. 21]

Here is where we can see a glimpse into Tolkien’s thoughts about romance. Interestingly, he viewed science fiction as the “most escapist form of all literature,” but in creating a world different from the one we know, they leave untouched the causes for the problems.

To judge by some of these tales they will still be as lustful, vengeful, and greedy as ever; and the ideals of their idealists hardly reach farther than the splendid notion of building more towns of the same sort on other planets. It is indeed an age of “improved means to deteriorated ends.” It is part of the essential malady of such days — producing the desire to escape, not indeed from life, but from our present time and self-made misery — that we are acutely conscious both of the ugliness of our works, and of their evil. So that to us evil and ugliness seem indissolubly allied.

This marriage of evil and ugliness meant that an ogre would be incapable of creating something that remained as ugly as he and yet had a good or self-less purpose. (Clearly, Tolkien had not met Shrek!) That the fear of the beautiful fay had faded and worst, that “goodness is itself bereft of its proper beauty.”

Enter escapist fiction.

This, however, is the modern and special (or accidental) “escapist” aspect of fairy-stories, which they share with romances, and other stories out of or about the past. [emphasis added]

Can we conclude, then, that Tolkien would be a fan of prairie romances? Perhaps in so far as they went, but he didn’t believe the problems of life began and ended with technology.

There are other things more grim and terrible to fly from than the noise, stench, ruthlessness, and extravagance of the internal-combustion engine. There are hunger, thirst, poverty, pain, sorrow, injustice, death. And even when men are not facing hard things such as these, there are ancient limitations from which fairy-stories offer a sort of escape, and old ambitions and desires (touching the very roots of fantasy) to which they offer a kind of satisfaction and consolation.

It is the idea of “consolation” that seems central to Tolkien’s beliefs about fairy stories, something less often discussed than his thoughts on sub-creation and escape. I’ll take a look at that aspect next time, but for now, I suggest that Tolkien wouldn’t hate prairie romances, perhaps not even Amish fiction. I think he’d understand them but think they aren’t sufficient. Their escape doesn’t go far enough and they offer little else.

I wonder. Have today’s speculative authors become snobbish in our attitudes toward romance — particularly “bonnet books” — when in fact we should take a page from Tolkien’s book and adapt a more objective view, crediting them for what, in fact, they actually accomplish?