Tritone Life

Sermon audio: Should a Christian Read Harry Potter?

In 1987, I went on a summer missions trip that required training in a Florida swamp. I brought my violin along — never left home without it — and perspired with several hundred other teenagers. Presumably to relieve the misery, the organizers gave a general invitation for musicians to play and sing during the sweltering tent meetings, so I volunteered.

But the woman in charge seemed to think my participation was a problem.

The only music she allowed during the meetings was the kind with words — on the principle that musicians shouldn’t just show off during worship. Was someone going to sing with me? No. Was I playing a hymn or a chorus? No. I had thought of playing some music written for the violin by Bach.

Bach?

Bach. Johann Sebastian Bach. A Christian who wrote show-off music (as I yearned to say).

There was a long silence in the tent, unbroken except by people slapping ferocious mosquitoes. At length, she said that if the Bach song had words, then I could play it. If not, well …

She gave me a songbook called “Sacred Classics” that she was sure would be more appropriate, out of which I offered to play Schubert’s “Ave Maria.” And what did this Baptist lady say to the famous hymn worshiping the virgin? It was from “Sacred Classics.” It had words. Approved.

My rendition of “Ave Maria” was a hit with the protestants. But I felt resentful.

Evangelicals have a tortured relationship with the arts, and often use specious principles to discern good from bad. So the next tough question I address in this year’s series is whether Christians should read Harry Potter books. It came from a mother who can’t understand why her fellow believers have fits over J. K. Rowling, but let their kids read C. S. Lewis and J. R. R. Tolkien.

Just for fun, let’s recall what a principle is.

A principle is a timeless truth, a moral or spiritual reality that won’t budge. The ten commandments, the biblical statements about God’s character, the particular wisdom of individual proverbs are all principles. We can reason about them. They apply consistently, though differently, across varying situations. They demand obedience, especially when obedience costs us something.

Many evangelicals seem to have ditched principles in favor of ideals.

An ideal is a generalization that sounds emphatic but leaves goodness hazy. Neighbors ought to “care” for each other, movies ought to be “clean,” and children should be taught “family values.” Everyone can agree with such statements, but we can’t reason about them or use them to make any real commitments. Their main appeal is nostalgia.

Evangelicals seem to think of morality in the same sloppy way as the rest of our society: matters of conscience are really just strong preferences. So, when they peer into the “gray areas” of the arts, evangelicals often blunder into hypocrisy.

Yes, Lewis has witches and Greek gods in his stories. Ideally, he would have left those out, but we know he was a solid Christian, and we’ll assume his best intentions. Yes, Tolkien’s stories are full of sorcerers and magic. Ideally, Gandalf would’ve been a prayer warrior, but Tolkien was a solid Christian too. We know what he was driving at, and there are such powerful pictures of Christ, etc., etc.

Rowling, on the other hand, is just glorifying witchcraft. So we draw the line at Rowling.

The fact is, Tolkien’s narrative treats magic far more seriously than Rowling’s. Lewis believed that, in some senses, mythology contained divine truth, while Rowling has no such historical agenda. So, in terms of principle, a stronger case could be made against reading Narnia and Middle Earth than against Harry Potter.

But it’s a case I have no interest in making. In lighting a bonfire for Tolkien and Lewis, I would be bound to throw in much Shakespeare, Hans Christian Andersen and all fairy tales, Star Wars, the vast majority of operas, and maybe even music without the purifying influence of words. To argue this way is to trivialize the actual moral problems of the arts: What is the difference between portraying sin and inciting it? Can art lie? Is mere entertainment corrupting?

The arts — whether literary, musical, or visual — are God’s glory of creativity flowing out of the human imagination. He gave us his creativity so that we could reflect on life, not just its beauty but also its darkness. Jesus himself used literary art, as we will see on Sunday, to challenge our perceptions. That evangelicals should be so seized with moral qualms about the imago dei is one of the most insufferable qualities of an already marginal subculture.

Which brings me back to the Baptist woman in Florida. The resentment I’m still capable of lathering against her narrow and foolish views of music in worship is deeply unhealthy. It is a bitterness from which I’ve often had to repent.

But it’s also a taste of what brews in the hearts of young people in evangelical households that won’t acknowledge the good uses of God’s beautiful, strange world.