“The White Witch?  Who is she?” asked Lucy.  “Why, it is she that has got all Narnia under her thumb.  It’s she that makes it always winter.  Always winter and never Christmas; think of that.”  “How awful!” said Lucy.

So it goes as the half human, half goat Mr. Tumnus introduces Lucy to the world that she entered through the wardrobe. 

I haven’t seen the movie yet.  Do you think the Chronicles of Narnia will be as big a box office hit as Lord of the Rings, or maybe even bigger?  Comparisons between the two are unavoidable – even more so than comparisons with the Harry Potter movies, though there are parallels there, too.  Both Chronicles of Narnia and Lord of the Rings were filmed in New Zealand.  Both are based on fantasy works written in the 1950s by British professors atOxford University – professors who are both more well known by their initials than by their names: C. S. Lewis and J. R. R. Tolkien. 

Lewis and Tolkien first met at an ordinary meeting of the English School faculty atOxford in 1926.  They were both young professors at the time.  Lewis was in his first year on the faculty; Tolkien had been around for a few years.  They shared a deep love and respect for ancient myth and legend – which were the way many cultures for centuries communicated their deepest truths about good and evil, honor and shame, life and death.  Professionally, both Lewis and Tolkien studied and taught medieval romance literatures and, in Tolkien's case, the background of Norse myth.

But for all that they had in common, they did not both believe in the truth of Christianity when they first met.  Tolkien was a devout Roman Catholic, but C. S. Lewis was an atheist. Lewis had decided that the Christian faith that he had been brought up in was intellectually unsustainable, untenable.  So he rejected it.

Not long after they met, Tolkien shared with Lewis his new translation of the Old English epic poem Beowulf, and showed him drafts of a fantasy novel he was writing, drafts detailing his at-this-point still private world of Middle-earth. 

Tolkien later said that without Lewis's nudging, he would never have finished writing The Lord of the Rings.  This huge, meticulous task took more than ten years.  The Hobbit, too, had for many years remained a private story, enjoyed only by Tokien's children and a few friends.  Lewis’s urgings helped spur Tolkien to get it published.

Lewis was a deeply imaginative person who regarded his imaginative self as his most basic self.  But up to this point, Lewis had not brought together that imaginative side of his nature – the side that was fascinated with fairy tales and the stories of ancient peoples and gods – with his rational side. 

This gave Tolkien the opportunity to discuss Christian faith with Lewis as they would talk about the use of language and the captivating power of myth.  What Tolkien did was help Lewis see that through Christian faith the two sides of a person, reason and imagination, could be come together. 

Five years after they met, during a conversation late into the night, walking the grounds ofMagdalen College, Tolkien argued that the biblical stories have an intellectual appeal as well as a satisfying imaginative appeal, because they demand a response from the whole person – reason and imagination.  Tolkien challenged Lewis to consider whether his – that is, Lewis’s – rejection of Christianity was really a failure of Lewis’s imagination; Tolkien argued that when Lewis set his imagination aside, his rational thinking became too narrow and not fully reasonable after all.  In other words, Tolkien challenged Lewis to consider whether maybe Lewis had not found the Christian story intellectually compelling because he had not pushed his imagination far enough. 

By the time they had this conversation, Lewis had already begun to question his atheism, but he was floundering around with a vague notion of God, not seriously considering Christianity.  That conversation became the final catalyst for Lewis; thinking deeply through Tolkien’s challenge led him to become a Christian believer.  He came to see, as Tolkien did, that the two sides of truth were reconciled in the Gospel stories.  The Gospels had all the qualities of great human storytelling – and they portrayed a true event: God the storyteller entered his own story, in the flesh. 

At this point, you might be thinking, “I came tonight expecting to hear about the baby Jesus and Christmas, and he is going on and on about two old, dearly-departed English gentlemen.”  But, you see, this is about Jesus and Christmas.  What made all the difference for C. S. Lewis was that his eyes were opened to see the “Grand Miracle”: God the storyteller had entered his own story, in the flesh, in the Christ child. 

Lewis and Tolkien were colleagues for more than 30 years.  And over that time, they continued to challenge and encourage each other.  Lewis wrote the Chronicles of Narnia after years of reflection on his life as an atheist and his life then as a Christian. 

What is it about Narnia under the White Witch that is so tragic?  It’s that there is always winter and never (pause) Christmas.  I might have expected Mr. Tumnus to say “it is always winter and never summer.”  Isn’t summer the opposite of winter?  It is, of course, true that that if there is always winter there is no summer.  In fact, one of the signs of Aslan’s return is that the ground begins to thaw; that is, nature moves toward summer.  But Mr. Tumnus says, “Always winter and never Christmas.” 

Christmas is the entrance of God into our world.  Incarnation.  God-in-the-flesh.  Don’t let the gifts and good family gatherings distract you from the bigger picture.  “In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God . . . And the Word became flesh and lived among us.” 

C. S. Lewis’s atheism was his Narnia under the White Witch: always winter and never Christmas.  He came to Bethlehem by way of Narnia.  The prodding of J. R. R. Tolkien opened Lewis’s eyes to the truth of Christianity that had been for some reason hidden from him before, even though from the time he was little he knew all the Christian stories.  Lewis was intimately familiar with the wintry side of life – the grind, the griefs, injustices, horrors (he fought in the trenches as a British soldier in WWI – was wounded).  Like so many others, he relied on the summery side of life – parties, friends, fine dinners, comfortable couches – to make up for the winters: the view, “sometimes life gives you winter and other times life gives you summer, that’s the way it goes.”  But then Christianity grasped him. 

Basic Christian hope is not that there are good times and bad times and we hope at least that maybe God will give us as many good times as bad times – you know, like yin and yang.  No.  Basic Christian hope is more real than that – more fundamental and more durable.  In the middle of winter, there is Christmas.  Right where life is a grind God comes to us.  Jesus is Emmanuel: “God with us.” 

Christian faith does not deny grief or emptiness or injustice.  Christian faith asserts the God entered into all of this in order to overcome it.  There is winter; but not without Christmas. 

It is not the thought of summer that sustains faith when winter hits.  It is Christmas. 

Christmas is beginning of the story, and the beginning of our walk with God.  There is more.  In the second of the Narnia Chronicles published – and chronologically the fourth in the series – (Prince Caspian) Lucy returns to Narnia.  And once again she meets Aslan.

“Welcome, child,” he said.  “Aslan,” said Lucy, “you’re bigger.”  “That is because you are older,” answered he.  “Not because you are?”  “I am not.  But every year you grow, you will find me bigger.” 

Another year has passed and another Christmas has come.  “The Word became flesh and lived among us, and we have seen his glory, the glory as of a father’s only son, full of grace and truth.”  With this Christmas in your world, every year you grow, you will find him bigger.  Amen.