My wife and I are reading the Chronicles of Narnia to our children who are eight and five years old. We started to read them classic secular books chapter by chapter about six months ago and figured it was time to introduce them to some Christian classics. It has been a fun experience and has given my wife and I an activity that can calm our children on days that they are particularly wild.
Recently, we read the chapter in The Lion, The Witch, and the Wardrobe. It was the chapter titled “The Triumph of the Witch”, and it details how Aslan, the all powerful and good Lion of Narnia (and other worlds), submits himself to torture and death in place of the treacherous boy, Edmund. Unaware of what was about to happen, my eight-year-old and five-year-old burst into tears whenever they realized that the Witch was going to kill Aslan with her stone knife, and no one was going to be able to stop her. As a result, we had to read an extra chapter so that Aslan could rise from the dead and assure our children that it would be alright.
As I watched my kids cry, I teared up myself. Their sorrow was so innocent, and I realized that they were connecting to a deeper reality. Aslan is an obvious analogy for Jesus, and as my children cried, it occurred to me that I was watching a variation of the same emotions that came from our Blessed Mother, the other women, and the Beloved Disciple at the foot of the cross.
This realization led me to marvel at the power of storytelling. My family and I have heard the story of the death of Jesus recounted many times, and besides a particularly emotional Good Friday, never once has a tear been shed. Yet here were my kids, my wife, and I crying over a fictional lion. We have crucifixes in every room of our house and rarely does the horror of a man being nailed to wood sink in. Yet, as we hide with Susan and Lucy while countless evil creatures mock and execute Aslan, we feel the fear and wretchedness of the event. A well-told story enables us to understand, feel, and even know a deeper truth that is more than interpreting text. It can speak to our heart rather than just our brain. And in the case of Aslan and my children, in their heart they experienced the sorrow of Jesus’ crucifixion, maybe for the first time.
As we finished the next chapter and got our youngest ready for bed, I was appreciative of the work, prayer, and skill that C.S. Lewis poured into his books, and it reminded me of the need to surround myself and our family with good stories that draw us to God. We can do the linear work of educating our kids in the faith, and bringing them to the sacraments, but the experiential portion of living a Catholic life must also be supplemented by the entertainment to which we expose ourselves. If we connect our faith life with the emotional truths that good stories can relate to us, then our faith, and consequently our God, comes alive just like Aslan when dawn breaks the next morning.