This sermon was written for the service of Choral Evensong at Christ Church, East Sheen (thank you for having me, it was a treat!), and I had a lot of fun exploring ideas of Pentecost and the Spirit in Narnia—despite the fact that Narnia isn’t obviously very trinitarian….

Lots of ideas had to fall by the wayside as I sliced and compressed my way for this, so mayyyyybe there’ll be a longer piece on themes of Pentecost in Prince Caspian to come. You know, when I’m bored of / procrastinating from all the other things on the ‘To Write’ list.

Readings: Psalm 139.1-11 · Ezekiel 36.22-28 ·  Acts 2.22-38

“Therefore say unto the house of Israel, thus saith the Lord God; I do not this for your sakes, O house of Israel, but for mine holy name’s sake.” – Ezekiel 36:22

 

In the book The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe, C.S. Lewis describes the moment when the four Pevensie children—Peter, Susan, Edmund and Lucy—first hear the name of Aslan:

“The moment the Beaver had spoken these words, everyone felt quite different. Perhaps it has sometimes happened to you in a dream that someone says something which you don’t understand but in the dream it feels as if it had some enormous meaning… It was like that now. At the name of Aslan each one of the children felt something jump in its inside…” (1)

The emotions the children experience are complex and mixed. There is a frisson of excitement, and of fear. It’s a kind of edginess, a tension in the emotions—and not just for Edmund, the child who is set to betray his siblings.

In our Old Testament reading, we heard God say to Ezekiel: “I do not this for your sakes, O house of Israel, but for mine holy name’s sake… And I will sanctify my great name…  and [they] shall know that I am the Lord.” When I hear this, I feel the same kind of frisson that I think Peter and Susan and Edmund and Lucy feel when they first hear about Aslan—a deep wonder, a thrill with an edge of awe, and a certain nervousness. I wonder if you feel it too?

Ezekiel connects God’s name and authority to the gift of the Spirit that is promised. In Peter’s sermon in Acts, this is developed further — Jesus is raised up from death to life, and then to the heavens where he is exalted by God, and then — “having received of the Father the promise of the Holy Ghost, he hath shed forth this, which ye now see and hear.”

Our readings remind us that the gift of the Spirit reveals God’s greatness, his holiness, his power and authority. Those things that we recognise when we describe Jesus as being a king. And there is something about that, that might make us draw breath. As Mrs Beaver tells the Pevensie children: “If there’s anyone who can appear before Aslan without their knees knocking, they’re either braver than most, or else just silly.”

The tension in Narnia grows as the children learn that Aslan is a Lion: the great Lion. And when Lucy and Susan ask if Aslan is quite safe, Mr Beaver says, “Who said anything about safe? ‘Course he isn’t safe. But he’s good. He’s the King, I tell you.”  Later on, he reminds them of this again: “He’s wild, you know. Not like a tame lion.”

 ——

Within the church we often speak of the Holy Spirit in terms that are comforting. She is known as the paraclete, the helper, and sometimes, ‘the comforter. With us, as our Psalm says, wherever we go in the world, whatever is going on in our lives. But sometimes, I wonder if this shades into what we might call cosiness. If we try and draw the Spirit into our lives and desires—rather than being drawn by her into the life of God, and his desires for our world.

And I wonder, when we do this—which can be so easy to do (I certainly see myself doing this)—we are looking for God to be ‘safe,’ for the Holy Spirit to be ‘tame.’ Whether we are stepping back from the wonder and the awe, and from the things we find in God that make us nervous—into our comfort zones?  

For what have the people listening to Peter seen and heard on the first Pentecost? The noise of a wind, perhaps the tongues of fire, certainly the hubbub of people running around, talking excitedly in different languages about the works of God in Christ. When Peter first gets up to speak, he has to say, “It’s ok! We’re not drunk!” There is a wildness to the day. An un-tameability to the Spirit. A frisson in the air. A sense of possibility, perhaps? Of new ways of life with God? With new people? Was there excitement? Perhaps. Nervousness? Definitely.

If we go back to Narnia, as the Pevensie children do in Prince Caspian, we find a scene that might help us to imagine this. Narnia has changed in the years since they have left it, and ‘old Narnia’ as they call it has been taken over. The talking animals, the dryads of the trees and the nymphs of the water have fallen asleep. But then, Aslan returns. Let me read a little bit: (2)

“The light was changing… Aslan, who seemed larger than before, lifted his head, shook his mane, and roared. The sound, deep and throbbing at first like an organ beginning on a low note, rose and became louder, and then far louder… till the earth and air were shaking with it….” 

As it goes on, we see Old Narnia beginning to wake – nymphs, animals, and trees…

“What Lucy and Susan saw was a dark something coming to them from almost every direction across the hills… It looked first like a black mist… then like the stormy waves… and then, at last, like what it was, woods on the move… But as they drew nearer, they looked less like trees… and when they were around Lucy, she saw that it was a crowd of human shapes…  they all bowed and rose again, shouting ‘Aslan, Aslan!’” 

The crowd begins to dance, and a wild romp breaks out. Bacchus appears — and if you know Bacchus from Greek myths, you know that a party where he is present is not a tame party! As Susan whispers to Lucy, “I wouldn’t have felt safe if we’d met them without Aslan!”

Again, we have that frisson, that sense of wonder and that edge of fear.

The life that Aslan’s roar calls out in Narnia is thrilling, but not safe.

Aslan is good, and faithful, and utterly worthy of trust—but he is not tame.

 ——

At the end of Prince Caspian there is a ‘new’ Narnia, revitalised. Aslan is heralded again, Narnia’s relationship with him renewed. But there has been disruption and fear. The only creature who really knew what was happening and would happen through everything going on—was Aslan. And yet those who trusted Aslan and followed him through the wildness find joy and life.

The gift of the Spirit is for the glory of God. As God tells Ezekiel, the new heart and spirit he gives to his people will mean the honouring of God’s name in all the earth. The Spirit that comes at Pentecost draws all peoples to God through Christ. These are not events that often feel safe to those who experience them, because it means something new is happening. They disrupt lives and change worlds.

In the Spirit, God goes beyond what we already know and asking us to go with him. And in this he promises faithfulness, the company of the Spirit, and ultimately joy and life.

As we look at the world in which we live; at our climate, our politics, our economies, our local and international relationships—at the very sustainability of life; it seems clear that the disruption and transformation of the Spirit is needed.

And at Pentecost we are reminded that God works in new ways and does new things. That Aslan is not a tame lion. We are reminded that Spirit always moves past the boundaries of our known landscapes, calling all things into new life in God.

Are we ready to look for this movement in our world now—hoping and trusting that it is already happening. And when we feel the frisson of excitement and nervousness that comes with such an encounter with God—with the Spirit—are we ready to embrace it, trusting that promise of faithful company. Are we ready to find our inner Lucy Pevensie, who is so open to the presence of Aslan, and so trusting that the things that seem wild will turn out for good that she follows, faithfully and courageously.

And so, as we pray, let’s ask the Holy Spirit to show us where she is moving. And let’s ask God to give us this new Spirit and new heart: the courage, the desire and the trust needed to follow and join in—however wild it might seem.

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(1) This is in chapter seven (A Day with the Beavers) of The Lion ,the Witch and the Wardrobe

(2) This is from chapter eleven (The Lion Roars) of Prince Caspian