Sunday I preached a sermon on Genesis 3 which I entitled “The First Lie.” It concentrated on the Serpent’s communication strategy with Eve (using Adam as a passive partner in his plan). I began with a quotation from the Charlie Daniels Band and ended with a quote from C. S. Lewis.
I don’t know how many of you have read The Silver Chair. That story involved two children sent on a mission in a magical world to rescue a missing prince. In this world (or the fictional version of it), the boy and the girl were basically trapped in a progressive school called “Experiment House,” where they were propagandized and bullied.
Correspondingly, in the magical world, the children end up in an underground kingdom ruled by a lovely-looking witch who does not want anyone to leave her realm (the Head of Experiment House was also a woman). When this witch finds them as they are about to rescue the prince, she throws some incense into a fire, begins strumming a mandolin, and starts speaking to them softly about how the world above ground can’t really exist. It’s all a dream they dreamed based on things they experienced underground, which she claimed was the only reality. The sun they describe is really just an imaginary thing based on lamps that exist in her caves. Because of the magic involved in the incense, her hypnotic voice, and her musical strumming, the children start to become compliant.
But they have a non-human companion, a Marshwiggle who, despite the spell, figures out what is happening:
The Prince and the two children were standing with their heads hung down, their cheeks flushed, their eyes half closed; the strength all gone from them; the enchantment almost complete. But Puddleglum, desperately gathering all his strength, walked over to the fire. Then he did a very brave thing. He knew it wouldn’t hurt him quite as much as it would hurt a human; for his feet (which were bare) were webbed and hard and coldblooded like a duck’s. But he knew it would hurt him badly enough; and so it did. With his bare foot he stamped on the fire, grinding a large part of it into ashes on the flat hearth. And three things happened at once.
First, the sweet heavy smell grew very much less. For though the whole fire had not been put out, a good bit of it had, and what remained smelled very largely of burnt Marshwiggle, which is not at all an enchanting smell. This instantly made everyone’s brain far clearer. The Prince and the children held up their heads again and opened their eyes.
Secondly, the Witch, in a loud, terrible voice, utterly different from all the sweet tones she had been using up till now, called out, “What are you doing? Dare to touch my fire again, mud-filth, and I’ll turn the blood to fire inside your veins.”
Thirdly, the pain itself made Puddleglum’s head for a moment perfectly clear and he knew exactly what he really thought. There is nothing like a good shock of pain for dissolving certain kinds of magic.
Obviously, that’s a rather involved analogy. But I think the point is well-taken that sometimes the thing to do is to clear our heads.
Where are we going? What are we doing? Are we thinking clearly or are we being manipulated? Are we being convinced by a persuasive argument or are we bowing to peer pressure? Are we really seeking the truth or are we seeking social approval through conformity and compliance?
C. S. Lewis must have been thinking of Genesis 3 as well, because the lovely lady transformed into a serpent and had to be slain before she killed them all. Her corresponding ruler at Experiment House got removed from office, but not to the same end:
After that, the Head’s friends saw that the Head was no use as a Head, so they got her made an inspector to interfere with other Heads. And when they found she wasn’t much good even at that, they got her into Parliament where she lived happily ever after.
Since, this was a sermon, I didn’t want to use the time to apply a children’s story. But I will make one suggestion here.
I’ve noticed that sometimes people interrupted from their laptops or phones when immersed in social media virtually act like the interruption is painful. I also notice that they are often not thinking clearly after staying “connected” for too long. Finally, social media seems to be a source of unending propaganda.
So, “stamping out the fire” and clearing your head has an obvious equivalent, even if not as damaging: get away from your screen and take a walk outside.
If the messages you’re receiving are true and important, they will remain so even if you are offline and engaged in physical activity. But they might evaporate and suddenly appear foolish.
It is like waking from a dream.