What is the meaning of all this gluttony, this waste, this self-indulgence?
Where did you get all these things?
—The White Witch, upset at Narnians having an unmasked, non-socially distanced Christmas feast
Another winter draws close upon us. We could all do with a reminder not to skip out on those places of refuge in a season literally and, increasingly, figuratively able to drain us of all warmth.
Christmas in the middle of the winter is far more meaningful than is commonly acknowledged. The incarnation of God at the darkest (again, literally) possible time is an epic eucatastrophe. It’s the eucatastrophe (no really, take it from the guy who coined the term).
And that is why it cannot coexist with a dire pandemic.
Narnia has more predictive power than SAGE
C.S. Lewis’ popular quote on Omnipotent Moral Busybodies sure does get a lot of citation since 2020 rolled around, but I’d say right around this time of year we can take a similar lesson from an even more famous work by Lewis: The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe.
Here, the dire conditions in which Narnia is introduced to the reader is the state of always winter and never Christmas.
“Always winter and never Christmas; think of that!” Perpetual hardship and no solace to be found in its midst. A ruthless climate and no warmth. No cheery fire to sit around and no one else to share it with.
The White Witch is the culprit and continued sustainer of all this. Where Lewis’ Omnipotent Moral Busybody is a nuanced and subtly terrifying villain, the Witch is far more transparently sinister. She rules over a land already totally brought under an evil spell. In a way, she is the logical conclusion of the Omnipotent Moral Busybody. The only logical way to maintain the necessary control is to freeze all of it. Cease seasons. Forestall feasting.
I bring this up because in about a week it’s going to be insufferable, that idea that you should not gather with others and give thanks for the blessings you have because it isn’t “responsible.” The same identification of such gatherings as mere self-indulgence, just like in the quote above. It’ll be for Thanksgiving first, and then Christmas in another month after that.
I’ve never quite been able to take seriously the 1988 BBC adaptation of The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe mostly on account of its extremely dated and underfunded effects and costumes. But boy, if it does not totally nail that scene with the Witch coming across the Narnians’ Christmas party:
You see, the White Witch cannot cope with even the notion that her icy grip on Narnia is beginning to slip away. The arrival of Father Christmas may as well be the departure of her constructed winter. She knows what it means. It means Aslan has arrived too. The result: a tantrum, the greatest display of cold cruelty we see from the Witch in the whole story save for her killing Aslan later on (and that was ultimately about as effectual).
I think you see the same tantrum-tossing spirit in the bitter rhetoric of talking heads on TV since around September. Those who would force people into vaccination, into Owning Nothing and Being Happy, into a moratorium on merry gathering — cannot abide the grateful feasts, the un-cancelation of Christmas, or the beginning of the thaw. Winter is COVID season (again, literally) and that means winter must be kept going. Thanksgiving and Christmas are seasons of gratitude and good tidings that drown out anxiety and terror. And that means it must be always winter but never Christmas.
“Our patience is wearing thin.”
“He cannot have been here!”
In the words of another holiday saboteur, “I must stop this Christmas from coming.”
Witch, not Grinch
But there is a meaningful difference between the Christmas naysaying of the Grinch and that of the White Witch. The Grinch is a redeemable Christmas villain. He is mean and spiteful, but is ultimately set right by gaining a greater appreciation of the day. The Grinch in his villainy simply did not understand Christmas, could not see past the “noise.”
Contrast the White Witch. She understands perfectly what Christmas represents and she hates it. When she lashes out against a Christmas feast, she’s really rebelling against the rightful sovereign of Narnia putting her on notice.
Real joy, especially in full knowledge of dark circumstances, is kryptonite to people whose power depends on population-level resentment. It means the resentment strategy isn’t working.
Obviously, this principle extends well beyond COVID. People who seek out opportunities for gratitude are difficult to manipulate. People who don’t skip Thanksgiving are difficult to manipulate.
Winter Destroyed
I understand there is still much uncertainty, and I understand the irony of writing along these lines on this side of the first snowfall. The corollary to Christmas interrupting winter is that it still occurs in the midst of winter. The White Witch did turn the Narnian partygoers to stone on the spot, and that’s only 2/3 of the way through the book. And then later there was this whole affair with a stone table and a bloody battle after that.
But still nothing seemed to make the White Witch quite so furious as when she saw that defiant party happening. A selfish, irresponsible gathering. That was really the beginning of the end. Even the Witch’s loyal minion dwarf could not help but say so when it was obvious that spring had come.
I think maybe the lesson from this fairy-story for children is more actionable than the wry observation about Omnipotent Moral Busybodies. The latter resonates with world-weary adults, but the former calls us to regain the energy to handle it. Take advantage of the thaw, even if you think it’s not really springtime just yet. Seek occasions to express joy; be generous and accept generosity; signal that Father Christmas won’t be kept out of Narnia; take note of the whispers that Aslan is on the move.
Great analogies! Subscribed.
Brilliant. Thank you!