Earlier
this afternoon, I was reading “Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows” while
eating a rather unhealthy lunch. It has felt good to dive back into the books I’ve
wanted to read, but lacked the necessary freedom for it at school. As the food
was settling in my stomach, I picked up the book again and continued reading. The
famous trio of teens was visiting a man, Xenophilius Lovegood, who they thought
would give them some answers on a particular symbol that they kept seeing in
certain books or places. The man, who was a bit loony to most, had worn a
necklace with this mark on it at a different time in the book. When he
explained how it represented the Deathly Hallows, three items that when put
together would conquer death, one of the trio, Hermione, was adamant to the
whole idea that the myth was false. In her mind, there was no way those objects
could exist; there was no way to be a conqueror of death (even though in
secret, she and her friends knew that they had one of the objects). What I
thought was interesting was the man’s response to Hermione:
“ ‘But,’
said Hermione, and Harry could hear her restraint starting to crack, ‘Mr.
Lovegood, how can you possibly
believe – ?’
‘Luna
has told me all about you, young lady,’ said Xenophilius, ‘You are, I gather,
not unintelligent, but painfully limited. Narrow. Close-minded.’” (Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, p.
410)
I had to
read this passage about two or three times, because I liked it so much. It
struck a chord in me that continued to hum long after it had been plucked. It
somehow rang true to my ears, and I found myself thinking about it long after
my lunch was gone.
Now,
allow me to connect this thread of conversation between Harry, Ron, Hermione,
and Mr. Lovegood to the world of Christianity (don’t cringe yet, because this
will hopefully be worth your time). But first, let me say that in this moment,
Hermione even reminded me of Susan Pevensie from the Narnia stories. Ah yes, I’ll
bet you’re starting to get the drift now. Hermione would rather be led by
logic, by what she knows and is certain of, over an idea that had not been
proven real. Mr. Lovegood had no living proof that he knew those objects were
existent, that the story behind the objects was real, and that there was even
the slightest chance of finding them.
So how
does this unbelief stretch into another realm? I think we Christians have the
terrible tendency to trust our logic over our belief. If there is something in
the Bible that does not make sense, we either discard it or try to make it make
sense in our view of sense….. right? And that is exactly where I think we can
lose footing. There were just some things that Jesus’ disciples could not
understand that their leader was telling them. It all, I’m sure, sounded like a
cluster of incoherent English words. I’ll give a short glimpse into where I’m
reading from:
“On
hearing it, many of his disciples said, ‘This is a hard teaching. Who can
accept it?’
Aware
that his disciples were grumbling about this, Jesus said to them, ‘Does this
offend you? What if you see the Son of Man ascend to where he was before! The
Spirit gives life; the flesh counts for nothing. The words I have spoken to you
are spirit and they are life. Yet there are some of you who do not believe.’……
….From
this time many of his disciples turned back and no longer followed him.” (John 6:60-66)
This is
where we might gasp, and exclaim, “Wait! There were more than twelve disciples?”
Of course! Besides, we ought not to be counting just the ones who were with
Jesus 24/7. Any believer is a disciple.
So my
point is ultimately this: Hermione couldn’t make sense of Mr. Lovegood’s words,
and the disciples couldn’t make sense of Jesus’ words. Whereas later on in the
story, Hermione finally wakes up to what she doubted, the disciples merely walk
away. I can’t help but wonder if the disciples thought that they were smarter
than Jesus, and that was why they left…
I fear
that we may be in that slot: we may be ‘not unintelligent’, but we could be ‘painfully
limited.’ The reason our faith may seem to smolder under our feet could be
because we won’t push ourselves over the limit; we won’t experience Jesus in a
way that says, “I may not get you sometimes. I may think you’ve totally lost
your marbles. I may try to outwit you, but in the end, I’d rather believe in
your crazy tales than live a dull life filled with earthly knowledge.”
I’m sure
that even I may not be making any sense
as I type this idea out. All I know is that I got a feeling, and I decided to
follow it, even if it started to sound a bit mad. That’s okay. I think we are
all meant to be mental at some point.
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