“The Gateway to Aslan’s Country” (St. Luke’s: Reflection at a Funeral, Nov. 15th, 2017; Revelation 21.1-5; 1 Co. 15; Jn. 12.20-33)

First of all, I would like to thank -------, ------, ------ and ------ for the honour of asking me to give this reflection today.  I arrived in St. Luke’s parish a little over a year ago, and my relationship with ---- consisted of three conversations.  There was a common thread running through all of them – each time ---- and I spoke, we would, eventually, get around to speaking about C.S. Lewis.  The folks at St. Luke’s know that I have a habit of quoting Lewis, regardless of who I’m speaking with, or what the occasion is – but ---- apparently appreciated Lewis’ writings as well; anyway, she would humour me when I would, once again, make mention of the atheistic-Oxford-scholar who, with the help of his good Catholic friend J.R.R. Tolkien, would have a profound conversion experience and become one of the best defenders of the Christian faith in the 20^th century.  Lewis also has the dubious distinction of dying on the same day as John F. Kennedy (Nov. 22, 1963).  So, since this is the last conversation that I will have with ---- for a little while, I thought that I might as well succumb, once again, to my Lewisian habit.  This has to be mentioned: during conversation # 3, as I was driving, ---- asked me what I thought about the afterlife, about what I think happens when you die.  Of course, I quoted some ideas from Lewis’ writings as a response, but it wasn’t until a few days later, when I became aware of how serious ----‘s condition was, that it struck me that she had asked me that question… 

(Re)imagining heaven.  C.S. Lewis knew that if there was to be any hope of us grasping the realities referred to in, for example, the Scripture passages we just heard, we would have to learn how to use our imagination.  In his writings, and especially in his series of so-called “children’s books”, the Chronicles of Narnia, Lewis helps us to begin to imagine, among other things, what it means to leave this world and to enter “Aslan’s world” – Aslan being, of course, the Lion who is the central character in the Narnia books and who represents Jesus.  As someone once said, “What we cannot speak about must become the content of children’s books”.  Surely, it is only through imagery, metaphor and symbol that we can imagine a new world such as the one that we heard about in the book of Revelation.  To quote Lewis himself, “When I became a man I put away childish things, including the fear of childishness and the desire to be very grown up.”  In the dedication to his first Narnia tale, Lewis writes to his goddaughter: “Some day you will be old enough to start reading fairy tales again”.  Lewis’ Christian faith was a source of immense hope for him and set his imagination afire – Lewis knew, at a profound level, that “the earth is full of the knowledge of the glory of the Lord” (cf. Hab. 2.14).  So, pleased don’t be surprised today when I read extensive quotes from the Narnia series.

Waiting for harvest time.  The predominant image in our Scripture readings today is that of sowing seed, of letting go and allowing the seed to be buried in the earth, of hopeful expectation before the plant begins to grow and finally, of rejoicing at the moment of harvest.  In the Gospel, Jesus refers to his own death in terms of a seed being sown into the ground, dying, and then bursting forth from the earth and producing fruit.  Before his death, Jesus describes himself as being “just a single grain”; but after he is “glorified” – that is to say, lifted up on the cross – he will draw all people to himself.  There is an undeniable link between Jesus’ death and the possibility of all people being drawn to him.  Jesus is the “Lamb of God” and the sin of the world must be taken away through the sacrifice of this Lamb.  However, John tells us in the first chapter of his Gospel that the Lamb of God is also the One who gives the Holy Spirit (cf. John 1.29-33).  John also tells us that the Spirit could not be given before Jesus was “glorified” (Jn. 7.39).  But the Spirit is the living breath of God; it cannot be given by One who is dead.  In the penultimate chapter of John’s Gospel, on the first Easter morning, the risen Jesus appears to the apostles in the upper room and breathes upon them, saying, ‘Receive the Holy Spirit’ (Jn. 20.22).  As Christians, our hope is based on the resurrection of Jesus of Nazareth from the dead.  As St. Paul says, “If Christ has not been raised, your faith is futile and you are still in your sins. Then those also who have died in Christ have perished. If for this life only we have hoped in Christ, we are of all people most to be pitied” (1 Cor. 15.17-19).  St. Paul, picking up the same imagery as the Gospel of sowing and harvesting, refers to the risen Jesus as the “first fruits”, the initial reaping of the first few heads of wheat to sprout, the guarantee that the full harvest will soon be ready.  The risen Jesus is the “prototype” of our future resurrection, the guarantee of what awaits us at the moment of Jesus’ “coming” (return).

The breath of life.  In the first of the Narnia books[1], the 4 Pevensie children step through the wardrobe into the world of Narnia.  As a result of the different ways that the children respond to their new reality, Aslan ends up offering his life as a substitute for that of Edmund, who had selfishly betrayed his three siblings, partly due to a failure to believe certain claims being made about Aslan.  Following his execution by the white witch, Aslan surprises Edmund’s two sisters, Susan and Lucy, by appearing to them alive.  Aslan tells the shocked and overjoyed girls that the witch was unaware of the “deeper magic” of the world, magic that dictates that whenever an innocent creature gives its life for a traitor – to quote the words of Aslan - “death starts working backwards”.  Susan and Lucy proceed to clamber onto Aslan’s back and they go to the courtyard of the witch’s castle, which is full of what appear to be statues.  Aslan proceeds to approach each “statue” and to breathe upon it.  One by one, the statues come alive – these were actually creatures upon whom the white witch had placed a spell, turning them into stone.  Now, Aslan’s breath restores them to a “fleshly” existence.  If you have ears to hear, then hear.

Following Jesus.  Jesus says: “Whoever serves me must follow me, and where I am, there will my servant be also.”  Jesus’ crucifixion, death and resurrection are the gateway to “eternal life”, the life of the world to come, the life of the new creation – for all “who belong to him”.  Jesus has gone ahead of us and shown us the way.  There is absolutely no glory, no crown, no resurrection-life, without first going through death.  As St. Paul said, “What you sow does not come to life unless it dies” (1 Cor. 15.36).  Jesus has made resurrection-life available to all; but to get there, we must go through the “valley of the shadow of death” (cf. Ps. 23.4).  As followers of Jesus, we are “in Christ”; that is to say, what is true of Jesus is true of us.  We already participated in Jesus’ death, burial and resurrection through our baptism, and the pattern of cross and resurrection marks our entire life as Christians.  This way, all of our suffering and eventually, even our death, is to be identified with that of Jesus.  We follow Jesus in our pain, in our sickness, in our fears, and we will ultimately follow him into God’s new world.  Even as we enter the shadow of death, we need fear no evil, for our Lord is with us and comforts us even – especially – at that moment.

Aslan’s country.  The New Testament links our personal resurrection, not only with that of Jesus, but also with the unveiling of the entire new world that God will create.  At the close of the final Narnia book, called The Last Battle, the world of Narnia comes to an “end” in a cataclysmic collapse.  Peter, Susan, Edmund and Lucy – the four Pevensie children – find themselves, along with many other creatures – in an amazing new land whose beauty is so much more glorious than the Narnia they had known but that also seems strangely familiar.  (and I quote)[2]

“Peter,” said Lucy, “where is this, do you suppose?”

“I don’t know,” [replied Peter].  “It reminds me of somewhere but I can’t give it a name…”

… [Eustace, the Pevensies’ cousin] said: “I bet there isn’t a country like this anywhere in our world.  Look at the colours! 

You couldn’t get a blue like the blue on those mountains in our world.”

Lucy then comments on the mountains:

“…They have more colours on them and they look further away than I remembered and they’re more…more…oh, I don’t know…”

“More like the real thing,” [said another character].

The unicorn then beckons everyone to “Come further up, Come further in!”  (and I quote)

Everyone…began to run, and they found, to their astonishment, that they could keep up with [the unicorn]: not only the dogs and the humans but even fat little Puzzle [the donkey] and short-legged Poggin the Dwarf.  The air flew in their faces as if they were driving fast in a car without a windshield.  The country flew past as if they were seeing it from the windows of an express train.  Faster and faster they raced, but no one got hot or tired or out of breath…

The children and the other creatures discover that all their friends from previous adventures are waiting for them in a hilltop garden.  As Aslan comes to meet them, the children wonder if they will now have to return to their own world on the other side of the wardrobe – what Lewis calls “the Shadowlands” – or if perhaps this time, they are in Aslan’s country to stay.

Aslan says to them: (and I quote)

“You do not yet look as happy as I mean you to be.”

Lucy said, “We’re so afraid of being sent away, Aslan.  And you have sent us back into our own world so often.” 

“No fear of that”, said Aslan.  “Have you not guessed?” 

Their hearts leaped and a wild hope rose within them. 

“There was a real railway accident”, said Aslan softly.  “Your father and mother and all of you are – as you used to call it in the Shadowlands – dead.  The semester is over: the holidays have begun.  The dream is ended: this is the morning.”

Lewis’ works are suffused with a sense of longing, a longing to taste the fullness of that life that awaits us in – to put it in Narnian terms – Aslan’s country.  Lewis famously said, “If I find in myself a desire that nothing in this world can satisfy, the most probable explanation is that I was made for another world.”

Lewis concludes The Last Battle, and the Narnia Chronicles, thus:

And for us [i.e. the readers,] this is the end of all the stories, and we can most truly say that they all lived happily ever after.  But for them it was only the beginning of the real story.  All their life in this world and all their adventures in Narnia had only been the cover and the title page: now at last they were beginning Chapter One of the Great Story which no one on earth has read: which goes on forever: in which every chapter is better than the one before. 

Amen.

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[1] Cf. Lewis, C.S. The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe, London: HarperCollins, 1950.

[2] All indented portions are from: Lewis, C.S. The Last Battle, London: HarperCollins, 1956, pp. 157-172.