The Sorting Hat:

If We Only Had a Hat

A sermon offered at the Unitarian Universalist Church of Lafayette, Indiana

By Rev. Hilary Landau Krivchenia

December 2, 2001

Sermon 

When the first Harry Potter book came out my family began to read it together.  Maeve would simply sit nearby doing artwork while Mark, Lea, James, and I would sit together and read it aloud.  Later, Lea would read ahead and yet, somehow, when it came time to read Harry Potter, the five of us would find ourselves together sharing the wild adventures of the “Boy Who Lived”.  As a fairly recently blended family it brought us together in a way none of us could have foreseen – all through the world of imagination.  We all hoped that no Harry Potter merchandise would ever come out and we made a family pledge that we would never purchase any such paraphernalia unless it actually had magical properties – therefore our dollars have been very safe.  There are no real flying brooms, no invisibility cloaks, and no effective wands – but there is no doubt in my mind that we found – without additional purchase – magic.  Through hundreds of pages and four books, without incantations or spells, we traveled together and emerged as a family.  If that’s not magic, I don’t know what is.  I worry -- will it all dissolve into hype and marketing?  Will the books vanish in the cyclone of paraphernalia, silenced by video games, mouths full of Bertie Bott’s every flavor beans, and the howls of electronic three headed dogs?

What I would like to do today is weave a magic spell of our own – that celebrates the positive transformational power that these and other books can have in the lives of people young and old.  To pull back the veil that obscures the deep yet simple magic and wondrous connections that fill our world.

But – I worry – and not just about commercialism so -- a funny thing happened on the way to the sermon.  I remembered some members of the Unitarian Universalist Church of Quincy, Illinois, telling me two years ago about some odd protests against the books. Then, I recently ran into a condemnation of the series by John Ankerberg as I surfed past channel nine.  I began to surf the world-wide web and found numerous Potter-positive sites – learned about educational programs in schools based upon the series, about liberal Christian churches applauding the books and centering services on Harry as a hero – but amid the love and support I found a number of virulent Potter-negative sites.

I want to dismiss them all as a little lunatic fringe – people whose fear and anger at our own terrible human predicament make them too irrational to “deal with” and small enough to ignore -- no more dangerous than Remus Lupin – if given a good tonic and a little help from his friends.  But, you know, they can’t be ignored and dismissed.

            They represent the face of what we have come to call fundamentalism.  That may not be a correct use of the word – as Karen Armstrong pointed out in The Battle for God: “Each fundamentalism is a law unto itself and has its own dynamic,” she continues, “the term also gives the impression that fundamentalists are inherently conservative and wedded to the past, whereas their ideas are essentially modern and highly innovative.”  The Reverend Doug Gallagher defines fundamentalism as “taking things literally” – though they are not literal enough to be respectfully historical and I am further sure that they are not truly literal, for that would require the foolish consistency which Emerson said was the Hobgoblin of little minds and we know that the Potter-phobes want to stay as far from goblins as possible.

            But it is true that there are a number of warnings – particularly in the Hebrew Bible – against sorcery and the like.  I read you a key one earlier -- but let me set the stage for you -- in both the Hebrew and the Christian scriptures we are looking back at a people either dispossessed, fighting for, being dragged into, or out of a land, or being oppressed during occupation.  To paraphrase the passage I read earlier “You made a deal – a covenant with this god and not the god or gods of the people you now encounter, therefore, as to their prophets – we shall call them sorcerers, augurs, and necromancers – as to ours we shall call them prophets.”

             But this is no ancient struggle – it is alive in a new way today.  Armstrong says, “There have always been people who fought the modernity of their day.  But this fundamentalism is a new movement.  It is a reaction against the scientific and secular culture that first appeared in the West but which has since taken root in other parts of the world.  They may reject ... rationalism, but they cannot escape it.  All over the globe religious people have been struggling with these new conditions, which were designed for an entirely different type of society.”  As Armstrong says they are struggling with these new conditions – conditions many of us celebrate – new political and spiritual freedoms, great diversity, discovery -- yet we have our struggles with this modern – post-modern world.  And, anyway, we have to pay attention to these our fellow travelers on this small planet – this is our inevitable modern puzzle – and it bears with it explosive and destructive tensions – which we see and now feel all too keenly.  We are squished in together now – in our famously shrinking world. In this room alone, among you sit those who are wise in the ways of Christianity, Islam, Judaism, Earth-centered religion, Buddhism, religious humanism, secular humanism, Hinduism, other faiths, and even religious and spiritual innovations.  There are times that even we – who essentially thrive on these diversities and seek them out – even we find ourselves challenged and uneasy with the questions they raise as we worship together.  For to worship means, actually, to shape that which is of worth – and how do we do this in our sacred house, this puzzling cauldron of diversity?  For us this is a puzzle -- a welcome challenge – right?  However, Martin Marty argues that to fundamentalists this is neither a puzzle nor even a political struggle but a cosmic war between the forces of good and evil.

            I was chilled at a local Christian bookstore to find a shelf on spiritual warfare.  We have seen that this cosmic war can visit us in its most dangerous form – the hand of human violence.  A cosmic war.  I found myself in traffic yesterday behind a car with a bumper sticker that read – may the metaphors be with you.  But one man’s metaphor is another man’s greatest fear and one thing I learned in my researches was that those fundamentalists who fear Harry Potter and judge him a bad influence on young minds really do believe in magic.  Not like in “the magic of the holidays”, nor even in the sense that Starhawk quotes of “the ability to change consciousness at will” – not in the Wiccan sense that we are all connected in this small world and great cosmos – by the intention and impact of our actions.

            Richard Abanes, author of Harry Potter and the Bible: the Menace Behind the Magic wrote: “Rowling has a knowledge of the occult world, its legends and history.  They do not teach the precise doctrines of witchcraft but the allusions could easily stir a child’s curiosity about occultism.”  John Buckridge in Youthwork, a British Christian youth magazine wrote: “it could fuel a fascination that leads to dangerous dabbling with occult powers and can lead to psychological and spiritual damage.(p.66)”  Now, I want to confirm that there are a number of truly evil groups -- cults that exploit vulnerable persons and pressure them into acts of self-destruction as well as inhuman cruelty. It must also be said that these cults have run the gamut, as we have seen, from Satanism to Christian fundamentalism to Islamic or Jewish extremism to secular gangs to politically extremist organizations.  But this is not the concern that Abanes and others share.  John Andrew Murray of Citizen Magazine wrote: “by disassociating magic from supernatural evil it becomes possible to portray occult practices as good and healthy, contrary to the scriptural declaration that such practices are detestable to the Lord.  This, in turn, opens the door for less discerning individuals, including children – to become confused about supernatural matters (p.67).”  Potter-phobes believe in this magic – it is wand waving and real and it functions, for them, indeed, as a door, that the unwise mortal may creak open, and, willfully or witlessly, let in evil – the work of Satan.

What also concerns them is that Rowling did research for her books and has, as have much finer writer’s of fantasy before her, woven in strands of real history – for example, the founding of Hogwart’s school of wizardry roughly corresponds with the intense period of witch hunts and the torture and murder of pagans, midwives, and the general population of those inconvenient to the Church.  All sorts of proof-texting has been done to show that the names of various characters harken to figures in the worlds of mythology or occult.  The title of the first book when it came out in England was Harry Potter and the Philosopher’s Stone.  And, perhaps some of you knew this – but I sure didn’t – that Nicholas Flamel (the person who made the stone in the book) was, according to actual occult tradition, a fourteenth century French Alchemist who managed to create the Philosopher’s Stone that could produce immortality.  Do you remember the silver trees in elven Lothlorien in the Lord of the Rings?  Maybe it is really all about trees – it is nearly Christmas – but I digress.

            Sort of -- the Potter-phobes fear that other tree – the other tree in the Garden of Eden – my favorite tragic story.  Once Eve and Adam had eaten of the tree of Knowledge of Good and Evil the god of the Hebrew Bible – turned to his cronies – the other gods, apparently they were still on speaking terms at the time, and he said: “See the man has become like one of us knowing good and evil; and now he might reach out his hand and take also from the tree of life, and eat and live forever.”  The Philosopher’s stone is the fruit of that other tree.  And the fear of the Potter-phobes is the fear of humanity achieving a further share of sacredness – of achieving a deeper awareness of our own divine core – the Philosopher’s Stone that is potential in the human heart.  Not bodily immortality -- but the courage and wisdom to live lives that endure and leave behind immortal creations.  In that book, The wizard’s at Hogwart’s realize the time has come to destroy the Philosopher’s stone and reminds me of one my favorite Unitarian Universalists quotations by anon “the paradox of life is to love it all the more even though ultimately we lose it.” 

But why Harry Potter -- why don’t the Potter-phobes fear the runes and the incantations, the wizards, and elves of the Lord of the Rings?  Well – their answer is that JRR Tolkien, like his friend CS Lewis, made books metaphors that spoke of a world of stark good and evil.  Abanes writes: “Harry is far from perfect.  The morals and ethics in Rowling’s fantasy tales are unclear, and patently unbiblical.  The real danger is the moral ambiguity in all of Rowling’s characters.  They are set in our world and promote a concept of right and wrong that is radically altered from the one presented by Lewis and Tolkien.”  Ah, if there only were a Sorting Hat…As a quick aside I would say that this is a less than honest reading of Tolkein for hobbits are hired on account of their perfect size as thieves, do lie to get out of trouble, fall prey to the dangers of evil magic and whose wizards do slip from nobility, disguise the full truth, and sometimes even misrepresent the number of people they are traveling with.  Nonetheless, I for one, would vote immediately for a world free of moral ambiguity – well – maybe I would.  But this isn’t a choice we have – Abanes complains that, in the service of the good, the children often misbehave – lie, disobey rules, and that there are insufficient punishments for these infractions.  For example, Professor Hooch’s leaves the young people directions to wait to fly their broomsticks until she returns, but Harry disobeys by retrieving Neville’s stolen remember-all from Draco Malroy.  Abanes feels that it is setting a poor example that Harry, rather than receiving a punishment for this defiance, is rewarded by being made the youngest seeker ever.  Abanes fails to mention when the students are unfairly punished when trying to be noble – oh, we do indeed live in a world of moral ambiguity.  It is at the core of life – and the heart of religion.  Small good heroes faces powers beyond them.  It would be handy if there really were a set of commandments – beyond question or risk – thou shalt not kill, shall love thy neighbor, not covet… you know the list – a list that in every situation would be clear cut, could have saved us many a crusade, war, or pogrom – or would it?  The core of religion is this terrible mystery – our knowledge of our choice and the consequence of our choices in this deeply interconnected world.  Because Harry Potter shows mercy on Peter Pettigrew he is able to return and do harm.  But this is the world in which we live and struggle.  Choices carry consequences we cannot foresee –yet each person must struggle toward the good.  I want to remind the Potter-phobes that this is why religion so often speaks in metaphors.  Jesus, for example, knew that the Law is found and kept in the hearts of people in a process mysterious and personal.  In Matthew’s version Jesus complains of those “who listen and do not hear …those who look and do not perceive.”

And yet – and yet He said “we are also those who can understand with our hearts and turn…”

That is why he said he spoke in parables -- it is in between the lines that wisdom is found – in the teeth of the struggle – on the wings of imagination.  There is risk in the use of imagination, in creativity, in every great scripture -- as in scientific discoveries.  The American Dictionary defines imagination as the “Ability to confront and deal with reality by using the creative power of the mind.”  Jesus struggled himself with questions and temptations. 

            We live in this mystery – that we are capable of glory or evil.  Evil is not simply a force or vapor loose in the world, although we have to reckon with it in the world.  Evil -- like good -- is the outcome of a struggle in the self -- of choices, which happen in the real space of our hearts and minds.  Even the sorting hat cannot ultimately make our choices for us.  Our hearts experience conflicting impulses, our minds are filled with a seeming infinity of options, our lives prepare us for so much and for so little.  Our best roles models have depth and reality – face complex choices – sometimes it is in erring that we stumble toward goodness, sometimes it is in the sacrifice of perfection that the highest humanity is found – along underground railroads, in Dutch attics, in a forged passport.  Sometimes great evil is found in the most seemingly pious hearts – in the actions of those true to a parable whose words they hear but whose meaning they mistake.

I found myself remembering the scene in the Brothers Karamazov, by Fyodor Dostoyevsky, in which the Grand Inquisitor has discovered God on the streets of Seville and taken him to his office.  The inquisitor reminds God: “Didst Thou forget that man prefers peace, even death, to freedom of choice in the knowledge of good and evil?”  The question was direct but the last two thousand years of history have shown the answer to be complex – to have this freedom is to have extraordinary power – and humanity has been at odds in our answers.  Dostoyevsky yearned for humanity to embrace this freedom and power – for him it was in the name of God – and Unitarian Universalists embrace this freedom and power in a myriad names.

Now I want to be clearly heard when I say this – do not put J.K.Rowling’s work on a par with Dostoyevsky or even with great literature – though she weaves a wicked fine read with real strength, insight, and deftness and she has indeed challenged the fundamentalists. I can exegete and proof text with the rest of the gang – and I know that the word Potter is never used casually – that this is indeed a story of moral struggle and a boy who finds himself facing moral choices in a complex world – a boy who lived after evil attacked him.  And in seminary I wrote an entire paper on the biblical uses of the words clay, potter, and dust.  And if I were not such a humanist myself I might point out that Harry is short for Harold – like the Herald of the Potter – the Herald of the hand of God who faces the ultimate Riddle – Vol – de –Mort – the Wings of Death and lives to face and rise beyond him again and again.

The Potter-phobes fear the moral ambiguity of Rowling’s books, they fear the half human-half wizards, the mixed families, the possibility that your child or my child might find their way through to platform nine and three-quarters instead of taking the obvious train track.  Reminds me of walking through the doors of a UU church.  Harry is a danger because he unleashes imagination and that is the tool that enables us to find new paths through the wilderness – certainly to figure out how to live in this new, real world of wildly challenging diversity.  Which, again reminds me of this place.  Harry Potter is a danger, they think – because he is an ordinary boy with extraordinary powers – in fact so are every one of our boys and our girls – ordinary persons with extraordinary powers.  Hogwarts is the place where the witches and wizards are sent to learn the responsible use of their powers – in so far as they can.  This is our difference with the Potter-phobes – Unitarian Universalism actually believes that we can be – we should be challenged to discern good from evil.  We hope that here in our religious education program -- and in our homes that we will engage ourselves and teach our children – to empower them to make positive moral choices in a real and complex world.

This is the First Sunday in Advent and a perfect time to look beneath the surfaces of things and to invite our children to look within things and seek real magic – the magic of the loving heart.  I want our saviours ordinary like the people in the plane over Pennsylvania or shaking on the ground in New York.  I want young people – I want myself to look into a book or a life and see a virtue that can be reasoned, grasped, loved, and lived.  I want to curl up with my children and explore a world where people of every age but young in heart – real, sometimes cranky, sometimes mistaken, sometimes frightened, but who choose to stand up to real evil and struggle against it.  Not to split hairs as a spiritual path. I want them – I want each one of us to expect not perfection and saintliness from those who may redeem our suffering world – but to expect choice and struggle and ordinary courage – from ourselves.  For that is the greatest magic.