A Revival of High Beauty

How to Break That Old Morgul Magic

Recently, I shared some thoughts on the bewitching of modernity with what I’m calling “That Old Morgul Magic.” One of the questions I recently explored in the first installment of The Inklings Option series is “How do we compel someone out of the dark magic of modernity?” For those who are interested in the full treatment of that, you’re going to have to check out The Inklings Option. But I will share a summarized version of the answer I gave there for those who have been following along.

I believe if you were to pose this question to The Inklings, they would tell us that the effort lies in persuading those ensnared by the evil enchantment of worldliness that there exists a far more captivating beauty for which they were designed. In essence, the task is to convey that a holiday at sea holds greater beauty than the mud pies in the slums. It's not a matter of our Lord deeming our yearning for beauty too strong; instead, He sees it as not strong enough.

We find ourselves drawn to the path of Sauron, characterized by power and progress because we struggle to envision life in a world marked by harmony with nature and one another. Likewise, our allure towards the path of the White Witch reflects this challenge. Much like Edmund's craving for Turkish Delight, we seek immediate gratification, unable to fathom that we were created to rule and reign as redeemed sons and daughters of Aslan.

We desire the mudpies in the slums because our desire for beauty is too weak. Sin has transformed us into bent ones who now love the wrong things. Or, as Saint Paul said, because of sin, we now worship the creation rather than the Creator who will be forever praised (Rom. 1:25-26).

Ultimately, beauty is the thing that compels people out of this enchantment. Beauty is something that lives, moves, and has its being in God. Beauty, because it participates in God, is also true and good. This is why it has the power to transform and reform our moral imaginations. Where beauty is, truth and goodness are there too. In this intricate dance between these transcendentals, there exists a perichoretic relationship akin to the harmonious interplay of the Father, Son, and Holy Ghost. Where beauty manifests, truth and goodness are inseparable companions.

Lewis illustrates that this is what shatters the enchantment of the Queen of the Underworld in "The Silver Chair." Notice how Puddleglum resists her enchantment.

"One word Ma'am, ... One word. All you've been saying is quite right, I shouldn't wonder. I'm a chap who always liked to know the worst and then put the best face I can on it. So I won't deny any of what you said. But there's one thing more to be said, even so. Suppose we have only dreamed, or made up, all those things--trees and grass and sun and moon and stars and Aslan himself. Suppose we have. Then all I can say is that, in that case, the made-up things seem a good deal more important than the real ones. Suppose this black pit of a kingdom of yours is the only world. Well, it strikes me as a pretty poor one. And that's a funny thing, when you come to think of it. We're just babies making up a game, if you're right. But four babies playing a game can make a play-world which licks your real world hollow. That's why I'm going to stand by the play-world. I'm on Aslan's side even if there isn't any Aslan to lead it. I'm going to live as like a Narnian as I can even if there isn't any Narnia. So, thanking you kindly for our supper, if these two gentlemen and the young lady are ready, we're leaving your court at once and setting out in the dark to spend our lives looking for Overland."

Is it not the beauty, truth, and goodness inherent in aligning with Aslan that makes choosing the Queen's side a path to meaninglessness? Is it not the beauty, truth, and goodness found in living like a Narnian that renders existence in the Underworld repulsive? Is it not the beauty of the world outside of the cave that gives Puddleglum the courage to look the Queen in the face and say, “Darkness be damned, we’ll spend our lives looking for Overland?”

I think that it is.

I believe that Christians seeking to influence individuals ensnared by the magic of our modern age should embark on a journey to rekindle a positive vision for the world and revive the creation of beautiful artifacts. Engaging in endless disputes about what we oppose is not enough. We need not just a sword to, but a trowel to build. The aspiration to construct a renewed Christendom necessitates a collective channeling of our time, energy, and resources toward constructive endeavors rather than a relentless dismantling of our adversaries.

Historically, the church gave rise to the most eminent writers, poets, painters, sculptors, composers, architects, scientists, and philosophers the world has ever witnessed. There exists no valid rationale for this not to be the prevailing circumstance today. If we aim to unveil the ugliness of worldliness, the process commences with the rediscovery of the forgotten Christian art of crafting beautiful things. Through this revival, we not only counterbalance the world with beauty, truth, and goodness but also usher in a Christian renaissance.

When those ensnared by the influence of That Old Morgul Magic encounter the more potent and captivating spell of beauty, they may inquire, "Can anything good come out of Nazareth?" To which our response can resoundingly be, "Come and see."