A Magical Spell for Refreshment
From a C.S. Lewis story:
On the next page she came to a spell "for the refreshment of the spirit'. The pictures were fewer here but very beautiful. And what Lucy found herself reading was more like a story than a spell. It went on for three pages and before she had read to the bottom of the page she had forgotten that she was reading at all. She was living in the story as if it were real, and all the pictures were real too. When she had got to the third page and come to the end, she said, "That is the loveliest story I've ever read or ever shall read in my whole life. Oh, I wish I could have gone on reading it for ten years. At least I'll read it over again."
But here part of the magic of the Book came into play. You couldn't turn back. The right-hand pages, the ones ahead, could be turned; the left-hand pages could not.
"Oh, what a shame!" said Lucy. "I did so want to read it again. Well, at least I must remember it. Let's see . . . it was about . . . about . . . oh dear, it's all fading away again.
And even this last page is going blank. This is a very queer book. How can I have forgotten? It was about a cup and a sword and a tree and a green hill, I know that much. But I can't remember and what shall I do?"
And she never could remember; and ever since that day what Lucy means by a good story is a story which reminds her of the forgotten story in the Magician's Book.
~C.S. Lewis, The Voyage of the Dawn Treader, Chapter 10: The Magician's Book (1952)
We will not be able to turn back to the days when we were terror-free. The days of American respect, strength, and power seem to have faded, much like the back pages of Lucy's book. It's almost impossible for us to believe we once lived in a time when we could send our children off to school and never think twice about their safety. It's nearly impossible to recall leadership that brought out the best in us, revealing to us the angels of our better nature. The war has torn us asunder, not because we are simply "at war". It isn't that we are pacifists. No, we've learned that freedom sometimes has to mean defending ourselves with intelligent strength. Yet, these days - dear God - these days have given us a leader who does not care for our uniting in the most stressful of times. This leader does not seem to care how we feel about the fact that he misled us to the point where we offered up our own beloved sons and daughters; our very life's blood and meaning. We waited for one word from this leader to show us there was a trace of remorse for his many errors in judgement, and we got silence and a stare as blank as the runaway pages of our precious book. Our hearts are broken.
We are in great need of inspiration, direction, and hope in such times and it's missing - as surely as the twin towers at the World Trade Center are missing. As surely as the beloved family members of the 9/11 victims are missing. It is as if we are living in the pre-9/11 story as if it were real, and all the pictures were real too. When we get to the end, we say, "That is the loveliest story we've ever read or ever shall read in our whole life. Oh, we wish we could have gone on reading it for ten years. At least we'll read it over again." But, we find we cannot turn back.
It's a queer book, indeed, with the fading of the memory of the comfortable days before 9/11. Ghosts from the empty pages float in and out of the dreaming mind. Halcyon days return in flashes of remembrance. A husband's smile, a son's embrace, a wife cuddling her children. Missing. Lost in flaming towers or lost somewhere on a road outside Baghdad.
We remember the beauty from the old, faded story - even though we now only have fragments of the tale remaining in our tortured minds. We still have the ability to turn the pages ahead of us. I pray we can write the rest of the book together, as a truly united nation, and I would recommend that we do not allow the divisive talk radio hosts, the flaming fundamentalists, and the FOX News team to co-author our future narrative. I also hope our leader, who is our leader whether we like it or not, will find his lost heart somehere among the lost items in his own story. May he come to understand that, more important than focusing in on ugly partisan comeuppance and exercising hardline power he thinks he deserves, he needs to heal a nation of millions waiting for him to come to his long lost senses.