A dramatic ending to the tale ensured its endurance: As the woman, masquerading as Pope Johannes Anglicus, led a religious procession through Rome during the mid-ninth century, she allegedly went into labour, exposing the fact that "Johannes" was actually "Joan. Continue reading

Many answers might be given, from the obvious fact that they are stories well told, to the suggestion that they call us back to a lost childhood. But perhaps there is something deeper going on here.

To understand the deep appeal of Narnia, we need first to appreciate the place of stories in helping us to make sense of reality, and our own place within it.

The Chronicles of Narnia resonate strongly with the basic human intuition that our own story is part of something greater and grander - something which, once we have grasped it, allows us to see our situation in a new and more meaningful way. A veil is lifted; a door is opened; a curtain is drawn aside; we are enabled to enter a new realm.

Our own story is now seen to be part of a much bigger story, which both helps us understand how we fit into a greater scheme of things, and discover the difference we can make.

Like his Oxford friend J.R.R. Tolkien, Lewis was deeply aware of the imaginative power of "myths" - stories told to make sense of who we are, where we find ourselves, what has gone wrong with things, and what can be done about it.

A "myth," as Lewis uses the term, is not a false story told to deceive, but a story that on the one hand resonates with the deepest structures of reality, and on the other has an ability to connect up with the human imagination. Continue reading

Sources

• Alister McGrath, Andreas Idreos Professor of Science and Religion at Oxford University, in ABC Religion and Ethics.
• Image: Dan-Dare

John Main says, "Language may not be able to lead us into the ultimate communion but it is the atmosphere in which we first draw breath of consciousness."

I have spent more than fifty years acquiring language - a spiritual language, that is, not my native tongue - and suddenly it all seems a facade. It is empty, superfluous, 'white noise'. Don't get me wrong. I find the etymology, the lexicon of religion and spirituality fascinating.

For most of my life, I have listened to those more theologically literate, more erudite, with higher levels of education. I have hungrily devoured their definitions; their explanations; their theology. I have read voraciously. I am deeply indebted, and very grateful, to all who shared with me.

But I was short-changed.

What was offered, while encapsulating the Truth, presented as literal that which can only be revealed through metaphor, allegory, experience, art and silence. Ideas and practices presented as permanent, unchanging, infallible, embedded, I now see are transient, fluid, organic, responsive, reactive.

Consider the latest English translation of the Mass. I always considered the words and actions at the epiclesis and consecration as intrinsic to the transformation from bread and wine to Body and Blood. Those who love the Latin translation of the Mass probably thought the same. But the words keep changing. So the language becomes almost inconsequential, irrelevant. Whatever words we recite; whatever actions we make - it is that which is revealed that is important.

For me, now, that revelation is that God took human form. God is revealed in the actions and attitudes of human beings. God is creative and creator and is revealed in creation. God loves unconditionally and abundantly. I am known. I am loved. I am not alone. And this empowers and inspires me.

Scripture is rich in metaphor, myth, allegory, poetry. We learn about metaphor in English classes at school - but not a whiff is discussed in Religious Education. None of the names we give the divine are literal. God is not an eagle or a nursing mother or our father. These are metaphors to describe the indescribable - a divine presence so 'other' and so 'in-dwelling' that language can only hint at it.

I do not know if I was deliberately shaped, formed or taught in a certain way that kept me obedient, unquestioning, faithful. I do believe, however, that there is now a paradigm shift to acknowledge and name and embrace what has always been true: God is encountered and experienced in an infinite number of ways to ALL people - baptised or not; practising in an institutional church or not; religious or not. Artists, poets, storytellers, dancers, and musicians have always known this. Ecologists, feminists, and peace activists have always known this.

God can be experienced, but not entrapped in ideologies and dogmas. The language for God, and of God, has evolved. 
God can be encountered, but not explained. The language to describe God is now holistic and experiential. 
God exists outside of time and culture and language and is not constrained by these human constructs. The language reflecting God to us is the language of belonging and of relationship.

No-one has a stranglehold on God. Thank God.

And so I begin again …

Liz Pearce, mother of 3 adult children, loves story, dollmaking, writing and silence.