By Reverend Laurie DeMott

While I can imagine that there are people in this congregation who have never read the Harry Potter books, I can’t imagine that there is anyone here who has never heard of Harry Potter, the boy who discovers that he is a wizard and must eventually confront the evil Lord Voldemort. The release of every new book in Harry Potter series became globally watched events and countless scholars have analyzed the phenomenon of the books’ remarkable popularity. What is it about Harry Potter that would get a nine year old reluctant reader to devour a 700 page book without a second thought? And I speak from experience since my own son was one of those reluctant readers yet every time a new Harry Potter book came out, John would race me to the UPS man to see who could grab the book first. (Let the record show, I always won.)

I recently read an analysis of children’s response to the Harry Potter series by a theologian named Alister McGrath that made a lot of sense to me. He explains the lure of the Harry Potter books as “a symptom of a suppressed longing for transcendence and a reaction to the imaginative aridity of the modernism worldview.” Put in plain English, McGrath is saying that today’s society has lost its capacity for wonder and for a deep sense of our place in the midst of that greater mystery. No longer do children leisurely poke around in creeks to discover amazing creatures or spend hours acting out complex imaginative scenarios with their neighborhood friends. Instead their free time is consumed with a heavy schedule of highly structured sports and lessons honing skills that parents hope will one day lead to their children becoming successful adults. Never mind that few of us adults ever play soccer anymore or pull out our high school clarinet to impress our boss; society has convinced parents that a rigorous schedule of such self-improvement activities will build character in their children and give them the skills they will need to navigate the world. They will learn teamwork on the baseball diamond, develop confidence in their gymnastics class, and acquire self-discipline at the piano. Wonder and awe at the mystery of our world are no longer on the list of attributes worth pursuing unless, of course, it is done in the classroom where the mystery is subjected to the rigors of intellectual dissection to ensure that our children learn that no mystery can stand before the bright light of rational inquiry.

Let me stop for a moment and say that I am not against sports or piano lessons and, possessing a biology degree myself, I am certainly not against scientific pursuit, but I am in agreement with Alister McGrath that children possess a natural sense of wonder and an inherent desire to view the world as something grander than their daily round of lessons and activities. They have a built-in hunger for transcendence, for the ability to rise beyond the limitations of our physical world and our physical selves, and that that hunger too often suffers neglect at the hands of a society that is preparing a child’s college resume from the moment he or she steps into nursery school.

And so when our children encounter the world described in the Harry Potter books, they are transported by its transcendent qualities. Here is what they have been hungering for. In Harry Potter’s universe, the world is steeped in an unseen power that lies beyond the veil of the physical world. The transcendent power described in the Harry Potter books is described as well in our Biblical testimony. Have you ever wondered why Bible stories are so appealing to children? It is because they hear in those stories the same message they read in Harry Potter: “There is something out there,” the Bible says, “beyond the limitations of our human sight. There is a power that we call God who exists beyond the veil of physical sight and limitations, and when we align ourselves with that power, we who are quite ordinary can do extraordinary things.” To portray the essence of that mystery that we call God, the bible draws pictures of heavenly chariots, flaming wheels, burning bushes, thundering mountains, images that are fantastic and magical and yet strike a chord deep within us that responds with a “Yes, if I could but draw back the veil from my eyes, that is what it would feel like.” In Exodus, the transcendent quality of God is described as a pillar of cloud and a pillar of fire: we feel the touch of God’s presence in the world and yet the fullness of God remains hidden from our eyes within the numinous cloud or the dazzling fire. When we take these images literally or worse, try to explain them away as one biblical scholar did by saying that the pillar of cloud and fire referred to a torch that was carried at the head of the Israelite caravan, we rob the story of its central message: namely that the human brain is not capable of completely comprehending the ultimate mystery that is God. We must resort to metaphor if we are to rise up to God’s level rather than bring God down to ours.

And so, if we are to ensure that our children will have faith, we must allow them the time to develop their inherent sense of transcendence. We should be nurturing in them the awareness that the universe is saturated with the unseen presence of God who is ultimately beyond our capacity to fully comprehend. We must resist the temptation to over-explain and over-teach and instead give them plenty of opportunities within the community of this church and in their homes to simply experience and explore the mystery that is God for themselves.

But our children’s desire for transcendence is not simply a desire to sit back and be in awe at a world that is imbued with wonder. Their desire for transcendence is also the desire all of us have to believe that when we align ourselves with that power, we can transcend not only the limitations of the physical world but even the limitations of ourselves. Exodus declares that the pillar of cloud and fire doesn’t just appear before the people; God is not interested in just dazzling the people with an immense display of glory. Rather, the pillar of cloud and fire appears to the people in order to guide them from their bondage through the wanderings of their wilderness journey and lead them all of the way to the Promised Land. God promises that when we follow the pillar of cloud and fire, when we take off our shoes before the burning bush, when we stand on the mountain to confront the fire, the wind, and the earthquake in order to hear the awesome hush of a voice speaking in our souls, then our tiny seemingly trivial lives can take on momentous significance. Like Harry Potter, we are no longer just a geeky kid from 4 Privet Drive but we become, with God’s help, a person who is capable of working to save the world.

The author of the Harry Potter books, J.K. Rowling is a member of the Church of Scotland and says of her own writing, “I believe in God, not magic. [If people considered my beliefs] I think the intelligent reader, whether 10 or 60, will be able to guess what's coming in the books.'' And what unfolds in her books is the message that the greatest power in the universe is not magic but Love, with a capital L. When Harry Potter commits himself to acting with courage, integrity, sacrifice, and love for others and when he gives himself over to that Unseen Power that is Love, he is able to confront the worst life has to offer and triumph over it.

Two weeks ago, I told the children the story of Hagar and her prayer in the wilderness to “the God who sees”. “Hagar didn’t even know God’s name,” I said, “but she trusted that God loved her and would help her in her troubles.” One mother told me later that the story had made a great impression on her children and when they later that week were facing a situation that made them anxious, she helped them weave yarn around some crossed sticks to make what are called “God’s Eyes”. “Anytime you are feeling a little frightened,” she said, “take these out and remember the story of Hagar. God sees.”

This is how we can fulfill our children’s longing to know that there is a power in the world that transcends our human fears, can overcome our human frailities, and heal our human souls. We can tell them the stories that promise them that there is more to the universe than what they can see with their eyes and comprehend with their brains. We can declare them that even if they never get into Harvard or become the next David Beckham, and end up instead living out their adult lives in a little tiny village in the backwoods of Allegany County doing nothing more remarkable than raising a family and bringing home a weekly paycheck, their lives can still have extraordinary depth and meaning when they commit themselves to following the God who calls us to Love with a capital L. When we rise above our singular lives to tap into the transcendent power of the pillar of cloud and fire, we too will be able to confront the worst life has to offer, triumph over it, and be lead to a place of promise and peace.