Do You Believe in Magic?
Morgan McLean, Intern Minister
November 28, 2010


Note: The sermon is an oral event. This manuscript may not reflect the exact spoken words. If you want to hear what was actually said, you can listen to sermon visit our website at www.uurockford.org. © Morgan McLean, 2010.

There is magic in the air. Isn’t that what people say about this time of year?

I noticed it – I noticed it came this weekend. Just last week I found myself getting ready for bed because it was so dark and quiet outside, I felt tired, even if it was only 7 o’clock. But last night at 7 o’clock, I looked outside and noticed brightly colored lights in my neighbor’s bushes. I peered out my window and noticed warm light coming from inside the house across the street – there was a party filled with people laughing. And soon, Santa will make his way around the whole-world in one night.

It’s magic.

Magic. Magic has enticed people of all ages throughout history. Leprechauns keep pots of gold at the end of rainbows. Mermaids enchant sailors with their singing. And Genies grant wishes. The Phoenix is reborn in its ashes.

These stories have been told and retold. These magical creatures created and recreated. There is something very appealing about the world of magic.

We saw the box office appeal of magic last week with the release of the first part of the final Harry Potter movie. J.K. Rowling’s title character, and his world, have been a recent cultural phenomenon. The success of Harry Potter isn’t surprising-- it has had many noble ancestors of equal success, like C.S. Lewis’ Chronicles of Narnia series, or J.R.R. Tolkien’s Lord of the Rings trilogy.

I know some of you are a little skeptical about magic, and stories like Harry Potter. In fact, when I talked to Jon, today’s worship associate, about this service, he said, “I don’t do magic.” We talked about what is reality, and how we imagine changing it. History, and Historical fiction is more his taste – a story based on actual events, a story that “could have” happened. Admittedly, I share some of his hesitation towards fantasy and magic. There are no rules in magical worlds, really, no limits. It seems there is no problem that a magic spell or potion can’t solve, so long as the author can imagine it.

In the fantasy role-playing game, Dungeons & Dragons, the Dungeon-master is in charge. He or she organizes the game and tells the players their roles. This person creates the reality for the game, and maintains it – acts as a referee or sorts, to make sure the rules are followed. It’s hard for many of us to just blindly accept the sometimes arbitrary rules of a Dungeon-master. It’s hard to imagine someone controlling our reality. We like to be our own Dungeon-masters. We like to be in control of our own world, we like to know the rules.

But as we heard earlier from fantasy author Philip Pullman, reality is actually quite important to him when creating a magical world. He says “I bang the drum for the primacy of the physical world that we live in. As far as I can see we only get one shot at life, and that is in the here and now.” His fantasy worlds, and the one’s of Lewis, Tolkien, Rowling and others, have many things that look and sound familiar to us. They are parallel worlds that are accessible to us everyday normal folks -- Harry Potter would call us “muggles” or non-magical people—they are magical worlds built in a framework of our reality, because they are built for us. They are built for our enjoyment, and our learning. Magic is a way for us muggles, then, to explore the “here and now.” Explore the world we live in.

Can I ask you to suspend your reality, just for the next several minutes with me? Don’t worry about who is the Dungeon-master… and don’t worry about being the dungeon-master.

That is our first task – entering into a world of possibility. Children are often the main characters in stories about magic, because they are the people who can more easily believe in the fantasy. I grappled with this idea with the Kairos Crew as they put together the newsletter in the office. We agreed that as adults, we become less optimistic – perhaps even disillusioned – about human nature and the ways of the world. We stop being in awe of what’s happening on stage and we become concerned, instead, with what’s happening behind the stage. Adults start worrying about jobs and money and health. “Real life” with its failures and disappointments is depressing sometimes.

But that’s one appeal of these fantasy stories for adults. It’s an escape into another world. A place without due dates or alarm clocks. A place where we don’t have to be responsible or in control. Harry Potter grew up in with his aunt and uncle who are the worst kind of muggles. They are the stereotype of a modern “normal” family. They have no imagination, no creativity. They focus on material success, and are always concerned what the neighbors might think. Harry knows nothing of magic until his 11th birthday. The reader, then, learns about the magical world as Harry does. He begins taking lessons at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. It’s fun and engaging. Owls deliver the mail, and they play games on flying broomstick. And, adults might notice, there are no committee meetings at Hogwarts.

We need places like Hogwarts. Warm and peaceful places like The Shire, where the Hobbits lives in Tolkien’s world. Peter Pan uses pixie dust to fly to Never Never Land so that he will never grow up. And Santa uses flying reindeer to get from the North Pole to our chimneys. It’s good for us to travel to these places. They are places of renewal for adults.

And they often trick us into stories about friendship, family, love, grief, war, politics, religion.

So, once we get to these worlds, our other task is to decipher the lessons of reality in them. It’s true that in these stories, magic seemingly has endless rules, and can fix anything. Anything, except, as we learn again and again, death, and the bravery it takes to live a full life without fearing death. Now, I know that’s a weighty thing to put on Harry Potter, or Frodo Baggins or the Pevensive children. But that’s their story. They live with magic, but what makes their lives remarkable is the people they choose to make meaning with, the relationships they have. It’s the life the character leads that’s important, not the magic that lightens the lesson.

In our other reading, that’s what we hear from Dumbledore, Harry Potter’s mentor and Headmaster at Hogwarts. There has been a magical prophecy about Harry’s fate, but Dumbledore puts no faith in the prophecy – instead, he says, the greatest power that Harry possess is his ability to love. It’s a power that Harry’s enemy, Lord Voldemort, knows nothing about. Voldemort is only concerned with gaining influence, and mastering death. Dumbledore’s lesson for Harry is that Voldemort has forgotten to live, and that will be his downfall. Magic can fix anything, except death, and the bravery it takes to live a full life without fearing it.

That’s what I love about magic. That’s what I love about the Harry Potter stories. They are stories about being fully engaged with the world. Fully participating in humanity AND the interdependent web.

Dumbledore is the wise wizard in these stories. He is well-respected in the magical world, and is a kind and gentle character. I also happen to believe he’s a Unitarian Universalist. And those are the lessons in the magic that I’d like to share with you.

Dumbledore fully embraces our ethic of living as seen in our first Unitarian Universalist Principle: “the inherent worth and dignity of every” creature. In fact, that is his greatest strength. He trusts the good in people, all creatures, really, and puts his faith in unlikely characters, like Hagrid, the half-giant, Professor Lupin, a werewolf, and even Professor Snape, a tortured and mean-spirited character who never seems to be on the right side—but Dumbledore finds even Snape’s humanity and loves him.

Dumbledore does his best to infuse an atmosphere of “justice, equity and compassion,” our second principle, when dealing with the students at Hogwarts, and attempts to undo injustices of the past. He empowers Harry, and his friends Ron and Hermione, to learn the full truth about power and oppression. He asks the children to be reflective about things like House Elves, which are essentially an enslaved race in the magical world. Dumbledore offers House Elves sanctuary, jobs, and wages. He challenges his students to consider why some creatures have power and others do not, and how we might change the system.

The magical world is a place of “Acceptance of one another and encouragement to spiritual growth,” like our third principle. I’ve already told you about Dumbledore’s mixed company, but we see this lesson throughout Hogwarts. In one story, the students ban together to learn from each other. Anyone is welcome to come to learn and grow, no matter skill level, age, or affiliation. They recognize each other’s strengths and learn from one another.

There is a continual “free and responsible search for truth and meaning,” as our fourth principle says. In the first book, Dumbledore tells Harry that "The truth is a beautiful and terrible thing, and should therefore be treated with great caution." Harry enters the wizarding world having never known his parents or who he was, this world gives him a safe to explore that. Like we do every Sunday, he found a place where he could be. A place where he could ask questions and make meaning with others.

This magical world even affirms our 5th principle, “The right of conscience and the use of the democratic process within our congregations and in society at large.” The whole series is about choosing for yourself what is right. In the magical world, despite the magic wands and the potions, you have a right be a free thinker, to make your own choices. And there is a government with representatives and juries, which allow for participation and community.

Dumbledore, like many wizards and witches, and like our sixth principle, holds a “goal of world community with peace, liberty and justice for all.” He tells a gathering (n the fourth book) that “differences of habits and language are nothing at all is our aims are identical and our hearts are open.” Yes, his magical world includes giants, and werewolves, and house elves – in that parallel reality they represent “the other,” and the lesson is to live together in peace and justice.

And finally, like in many stories about magic, there is a deep connection to the natural world, and like our seventh principle affirms, a “respect for the interdependent web of all existence of which we are a part.” The students take Herbology lessons, where they learn the natural principles and powers of plants. There is a deep respect evident even in the magical wands each wizard carried. Each wand is unique, made from varying types of woods, with different cores like unicorn hair or phoenix feathers. Each part of the interdependent web comes with a different quality, and each wizard must learn to use that.

The magical world isn’t so different from our own.

There’s a lot in magic. Yes, magic is unbelievable.

Still, it’s a fun and gentle way for us to enter into the basic ethics of our living. These magical worlds we know look like ours, at least enough like ours that we recognize it and draw connections. But it looks different enough to be safe place to question “good vs. evil.” It provides a comfortable distance in thinking about power and control, and our own desire for those things.

Magic is more than escapism, more than an easy out with a swish of a wand or a special brew.

Magic is something we each must make. The magic of Harry Potter is not the spells. It’s the relationships. It’s the lessons that reflect our seven Unitarian Universalist principles. Harry’s greatest power – just like ours- is his ability to love. His magic comes from his friends, from his loyalty, and his honesty.

The same is true in The Lord of The Rings. Frodo can’t destroy the ring alone, his strength comes from his friends. In Narnia the children each have something unique to contribute, and can only overcome obstacles together. We know this story. We know this kind of magic.

A magic wand can fix anything, except death, and the bravery it takes to live a full life without fearing it. That requires a very powerful magic that only exists in you and me. It requires a uniquely human magic found in community, and in hope, and in love.

I believe in magic. Do you?