Pullman's Philanthropy?

All I know about Philip Pullman is hearsay, and whatever I managed to glean from my very labored reading of the first couple of chapters of The Golden Compass (I eventually gave up). The very ignorant impression I gathered of him from what little I knew was that he was a rather angry man at Christianity. I'll go no further than that with what I think I know based on my hearsay because then it just turns into gossip (which would be heresy). I will say, however, that after reading Philip Pullman's article from The Guardian that at least some of my suspicions are confirmed. Pullman is angry. Who or what he's angry at is anybody's guess, but we have a couple of options to choose from. He could be angry at Lewis. He could be angry at "pop Christianity" for enjoying Lewis' books more than his [Pullman's] own. He could be angry with the poor confused woman who asked for Shadowlands as if it were "by" Lewis as opposed to "about" Lewis. Maybe he wants to be sainted or wants people to celebrate his 100th birthday so that new editions of his books can be released and children can engage in contests of drawing postcards with their favorite daemon's (sorry, Golden Compass reference).

Who knows? Pullman is miffed about something, though, and while I'd like to simply tell him to get a grip and return to his study, where he can write a scathing article about something worthwhile like world hunger, etc., I can't help but feel he's angry about some truly frustrating things, things that Christians should truly be frustrated about. We've discussed these things in class: misogyny, racism, violence, etc. Beating a bush are we? Should we get over it and move on?

I enjoy Narnia very much, now more as an adult than I ever did as a child, and I should think that because I'm an adult I'm able to maintain the separation that is theology and make-believe. Truth can be and is found in both, but the moment I start praying to the Great Lion and avoiding Turkish delight like the plague I feel I should be institutionalized immediately. I believe there's no danger in us taking these stories too far, which makes me wonder why anyway should be making a big deal about what could be considered such minutiae as not letting the women fight, the bad guys have dark skin, and grade school boys having their dreams come true in realistic live action role playing battles. "It's a story," I want to say. "Deal with it."

And yet, someone in class (forgive me, I can't remember) brought up the possibility that maybe we ignore or just don't work so hard to notice many of the foibles of Lewis' "children's story." Marmalade in winter, right? It doesn't matter. Petty little things like that keep us from noticing what Lewis meant for us to see, the beautiful imagery that is atonement, forgiveness, and the adventure that is following Aslan. If we're extra-perceptive we might be able to synthesize what we've learned from our journey into Narnia with our growing understanding of our own Christian faith. I know I've done. Parallels are found between the two. That's what stories do, at least for me.

Back to Pullman, though. If parallels can be drawn one way (Aslan is something like Christ in this story so what does my knowledge of Christ tell me about Aslan...) perhaps they can be drawn in the other direction. I won't bore you with too many examples. I've written enough already, so let me get to the point. Pullman criticizes Narnia for things he finds very disturbing. One I criticism of his I haven't mentioned yet is his discomfort for the fact that Susan isn't with her siblings at the end of The Last Battle. What's worse for Pullman is why, a "stage" that we all go through that Susan should have a right to complete. Because of this common "stage," Susan doesn't make it to paradise. We could once again simply argue that Pullman should stop his blubbering and take comfort in the fact that he's dealt with this in his books. If we want to deal with it we'll read them, but we like Narnia so leave us alone. Besides, it's only a story. We can say that, sure. I usually do.

What concerns me, though, is the frequency to which we defend what we like or even what we believe simply by telling people to get over it or to leave us alone. For Narnia, sure, but what about that other story we all love so much? Let me just say it: Christians have a faith that is based heavily in the words and stories found in a book filled with accounts of misogyny, racism, and violence, not to mention the prospect that those who aren't of the faith won't get into paradise at the end of the last battle. Let me also say this: there are Christians who have so deeply rooted their faith in these words and stories that they've gone so far as to use said words and stories to continue justifying misogyny, racism, and violence, not to mention play God themselves and choosing people for their owns lists of who will make it to paradise and who won't.

I feel confident in pressing these questions to each of us because I think we all care very much about our faith and we all care very much about representing our Savior. Firstly, do we ourselves glaze over the "minutiae" of the sticky spots in the Bible simply so that we can enjoy what "greater picture" we see? Do we say things, suggest things, or think things to people who might criticize these aspects of this book upon which we base so much of our faith? When legitimate concerns of our own come up - a person I dearly care for and love is not a Christian and I believe only Christians can go to heaven - how do we deal with them? Do we tell ourselves to get over it? Do we tell ourselves that Jesus is not a tame deity, shrug our shoulders, and continue going about our day? Read The Last Battle and you'll see how our heroes question that very famous characteristic of Aslan when faced with pretty uncomfortable prospects.

Pullman's letting us in on something in his article and in this case, I believe, has some excuse for being, as I call him, angry. 1950s English medieval professors, I suppose, can be excused for lacing their seven volume fairy tale with signs of the times and personal preferences (Lewis, as we know, didn't like grade school) and we can brush them off as such, but what if Pullman were to read the Bible (I assume he has) and write a review of it stating how "poisonous and ugly" it is, using the same critiques he has for Narnia for the Word of God? Can we treat this as a "marmalade in winter" kind of thing? I'm not going to and these things will likely always make me feel uncomfortable about my faith. I'll let you decide how you'll deal with it.

Thanks for reading.