C.S.Lewis’ friend, Tolkien, wrote an essay called On Fairy Stories, where he suggested that the Christian account of the world “embraces all the essence of fairy stories.” The Bible’s story is the greatest story of all—the story of our world from beginning to end—and yet the Christian story does not make other stories redundant. No, says Tolkien, “in God’s kingdom the presence of the greatest does not depress the small”. He suggests that other stories actually resonate for us to the extent that they remind us of the Big Story, and thus they contribute to the “the multiple enrichment of creation.”98
This is certainly true of the Narnia stories. Lewis claims that he did not set out to write stories which secretly conveyed Christian ideas to an unsuspecting reader, as if he “drew up a list of basic Christian truths and hammered out allegories to embody them.” Rather, he recalls, “[e]verything began with images; a faun carrying an umbrella, a queen on a sledge, a magnificent lion.”99 Yet he became increasingly conscious that he was communicating basic Christian ideas through his stories. The stories do resonate with the Big Story, and Lewis the teacher saw the advantage of this:
I thought I saw how stories of this kind could steal past a certain inhibition which had paralyzed much of my own religion in childhood. . . . [S]upposing that by casting all these things into an imaginary world, stripping them of their stained-glass and Sunday school associations, one could make them for the first time appear in their real potency? Could one not thus steal past those watchful dragons? I thought one could.100
Thus the ultimate test of Narnia’s success is not only how good the stories are. Lewis himself invites us to measure them by a second criterion. The real test is whether the stories manage to steal past the watchful dragons. Do they send the reader back to the Big Story of which the Narnia stories are only an echo—the Bible’s story of creation, of human rebellion and alienation, the story of God’s great renewal program, with its climax in the story of Jesus, his life, his death for sin and his resurrection—and bring that story to life in a fresh way? Do they, in this context, slay the dragons which insist that sin is interesting and creative and life-giving, and make us see and feel and taste that sin is self-destructive? Only the reader can decide.
Tolkien suggests that it is in The Big Story that “legend and history have met and fused”, where “story has entered History.”101 And this, in a sense, is the point of Narnia. At the conclusion of The Voyage of the Dawn Treader, the children are surprised to learn that Aslan exists in their world, as well as in Narnia.
“Are—are you there too, Sir?”
“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.” 102
The watchful dragons have to give way before the energy of a renewed spiritual imagination.
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