‘Aslan is on the move!’

I still get chills every time I think of that line. It fills me with hope, and it makes me brave.

Like many Christians, I love the Narnia series, however unlike many Christians, I wasn’t bought up with it. I watched the movie ‘The Lion the Witch and the Wardrobe’ when I was at university. And that was before I read the books as an adult.

There are some stellar theological metaphors in the world of Narnia. I really like the creation story told through the Magician’s Nephew, I love the movement of belief in The Horse and His Boy, and – like all of us – I adore the oversized, kind-but-not-safe Christ-type in the Lion, Aslan.

Then I come to Lewis’ theology of the atonement, and particularly the description of exactly what happens ‘in the tent’ between Aslan and Jadis in The Lion, The Witch and the Wardrobe, and that’s where I stump my toe.

There are more in-depth treatments of this, so I’ll be brief and just list off my main questions, and why I’d encourage youth leaders to not use this scene as a way of teaching the cross.

What is The Deep Magic?

Jadis, the devil figure, uses a concept called ‘the deep magic’ as a standard that she can hold Aslan to. Although Aslan says he was there when it was written, it is assumed that he is still bound by it in the same kind of ways that Jadis is.

This deep magic is therefore powerful, somehow ‘other’, and objectively outside of Aslan’s divinity or control. He can use his superior wisdom to navigate it, but he can’t manipulate, change, or exercise control over it. He has ‘to play by the rules’ even if those rules mean that Jadis could ultimately win.

This is very different to the language of the Bible which says it was the very image and character of God that guided God’s creation, not some outside order or form.

Further, this deep magic directly empowers Jadis. She says ‘You know that every traitor belongs to me as my lawful prey and that for every treachery I have a right to a kill… that human creature is mine. His life is forfeit to me. His blood is my property.’

The Devil, however, has no such rights. He is a fallen creature. He doesn’t decide when somebody dies, and we do not belong to him as property. Some of this comes from the Dante’s Inferno vision of Hell, where the Devil himself is ‘in charge’. This, however, is very different to the biblical picture of Hell, where the Devil is also being punished.

Lewis gets around this somewhat by suggesting there is something else at play. He says, ‘that though the Witch knew the Deep Magic, there is a magic deeper still which she did not know.’ But this is still problematic. It suggests that Aslan somehow outplayed or outwitted Jadis – and by extension, Jesus only won against the Devil in this apparent game of chess because he somehow hoodwinked or tricked his opponent.

Who’s in the tent?

Jadis approaches Aslan’s camp and demands Edmund as her rightful property. Aslan invites Jadis into his tent to discuss the situation. We assume that what happens in the tent is some kind of negotiation. Aslan wants to buy Edmund’s freedom back from Jadis (as her “rightful property”) and he offers payment – his life – in exchange for Edmund’s.

On the surface, that sounds like good gospel theology. Jesus paying for our lives with His – effectively buying us back. Ok, but who is He paying? Who is He buying us back from? This is the issue with overwriting a modern view of paying a person over the more traditional concept of paying a price.

Jesus paid the price for us – the value of our lives and eternal souls. He did not pay the Devil for us. In fact, the Devil has no place in this part of the story. He has no rights and no powers over our atonement. That is all Jesus.

Jadis should be nowhere near the tent! Jesus doesn’t negotiate deals with Satan. There’s nothing to be worked out with the Devil. He has no bargaining chip, and he’s not even at the table.

Owning a debt to Satan is a version of what’s known as the ‘ransom theory’ of atonement. This is a very old view of the cross (likely beginning with Origen) but one that has been widely rejected since. Today it’s only really held in fringe eastern traditions, or in very particular Pentecostal churches. Jesus, of course, did pay a ransom (Mk. 10:45; 1 Tim. 2:5-6), but it wasn’t to the Devil.

Jadis shouldn’t have been in the tent. So, who should have been?

If God’s negotiating with anyone – and I’m using the word ‘negotiating’ a little flippantly – it’s with us. He would have needed to work this out with Edmund. He is the one who should be in the tent. However, Edmund is the one who has been left outside.

Why is this important?

Is this just being pedantic with a kid’s story? Am I just poking at a Christian message that’s largely right and trying to do good? Not if we regularly point to this as a way of explaining the cross to our young people. It creates all kinds of confusion, and it leaves young people with a pretty weird set of theological values about God, the Devil, and our relationship with Jesus.

Much of this comes from a model of the atonement called ‘Christus Victor’ where the emphasis is placed upon Jesus’ victory over the Devil. There is lots to admire in this view, and Jesus is indeed victorious at the cross! However, in isolation, we end up with precisely the problems we have found in Lewis’s depiction of the tent.

This approach places the power of life and death, the requirement for payment, the responsibility for sin, and a frankly bewildering concept of negotiation with God – squarely into the hands of the Devil. He never had this power as an angel – why then would he get it as a fallen one?

The main problems, then, is it overpowers the Devil while simultaneously underpowering Jesus, underpowering God, and underpowering sin. It also impersonalises our relationship with Jesus and leaves us out in the cold.

Narnia as a world is a beautiful place, full of imagination and goodness. However, just because it was written by a fabulous Christian, that shouldn’t make it our de facto story for teaching about the cross.

Photo by Glen Carrie on Unsplash