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Sonia Connellis ’23

Wardrobe with lion and tree emerging. Credit: Emma Reid ’20

Finding Spirituality in C.S. Lewis’s The Chronicles of Narnia

Last summer, I walked for hours in the hot July sun, picking up trash and accommodating patrons at the pool where I worked. I had one thirty-minute lunch break, and I read while I ate. Sweaty and uncomfortable, The Chronicles of Narnia was my only solace on the harsh and humid summer days, when patrons’ words felt biting. I took up reading in order to get my thoughts as far away from my current situation as possible, but the tales resonated in unexpected ways. They talked of unwavering determination, unending curiosity, and enough confidence to take on an army alone. I didn’t expect something that read like a fairy tale to influence me in these ways—transforming parts of me I didn’t even realize were there.

Years past, in my distant childhood, my sister introduced me to the films—a world so fantastical and mesmerizing. When I hit a wall emotionally in my senior year of high school, I purchased my copy of The Chronicles of Narnia, which included all seven stories, as a desperate escape back to the familiarity and peace that the films gave me as a child. This would be my first time reading the books, instead of just watching the movies, and interpreting what was being conveyed through those stories. My interpretations would alter and enhance my ideas about spirituality.

More famous for his essays on Christianity, Lewis wrote the Narnia series with and around Christian ideals, suggesting a peaceful experience in a fictional world; no one died, there was little description of the gore of battles, and everything came to a neat and meaningful end thanks to the prevailing character of Aslan. Looking back on each story years later, it is clear that Lewis meant to reinterpret certain parts of the Bible. I wasn’t aware of the blatant Christian themes when I was young, but I was able to pick up on a sort of radiating spirituality and assurance that I contemplated long after I had consumed the books and movies. Growing up, I’d not deeply connected to Christianity or any other organized religion.

Spirituality can be hard to define, but I understand it as a deep connection and inward reflection around oneself, nature, and how one influences others and the world at large. I believe that, even though Lewis draws from Christianity to form the basis of Narnia, he too focused on a similar definition of “spirituality.”

My interpretation of “spirituality” is that it is made up of the qualities of your personal character, decisions, and what you learn—that is to say that individual personality is something akin to “spirituality” in my eyes, as it depends on the choices you make along the way. Lewis’s work didn’t just enhance my spiritual thoughts, but it drew me to singing, drawing, and a keen awareness of nature, which I grew up around; I even remember taking up singing as a hobby, because of a song on the soundtrack for the movie. I’m not sure I’d be studying for a degree in anthropology without the values and lessons I found in Lewis’s stories. Even though I didn’t analyze the books until years later, they gave me the strength to explore my mind and my nature.

I identified most with The Horse and His Boy. In this tale, when a lone orphan living in a desert, forced to be a slave, was to be sold off to an even harsher slave master, he decided to run away. Through his journeys across the desert and grasslands in-between, the orphan boy learned to persevere through intimidating and detrimental situations. 

I identified with the boy; I felt alone in the world, “cast aside,” and I wasn’t sure how to regain my footing. Seeing the boy go on such a journey, at times left alone by his companions to fend for himself and still make it out alive, gave me insight and hope. A scene I recall when I’m feeling especially down happens toward the very ending—the boy, the only one with the knowledge of an impending attack against the very same people he hoped to take refuge with, wandered around a dense and foggy forest, injured, with no sense of direction. Feeling hopeless, he was going to give up and succumb to his wounds. Aslan, Narnia’s depiction of the Christian God, admonished the boy for this and urged him to shift his thinking from himself to those around him. Despite the boy being near death, he was newly invigorated by Aslan’s words, and ran deeper into the woods. Eventually, he reached those who he had to convey the message to, and soon discovered that he was a long lost relative of that kingdom’s royal family, making him a prince.

From this I took strength; if I were to succumb to my thoughts and environment just because I was tired or depressed, what could become of me? How would that impact those I love? Even further, why would I stop my efforts to cope and grow cold when I neared a satisfactory reward, of truth, enlightenment, and newfound wisdom? This reawakened my spiritual thoughts, but also instilled in me a deeper sense of confidence, curiosity, and determination. To me, Narnia is a reminder that life is fickle and dangerous, but with the strength to push on, you can find your path.