Come to the Table: Feasts in Narnia
I grew up in a Christian home with an English teacher for a father. Then, I majored in English and became a teacher myself. So, as you can imagine, I have read The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe quite a few times. I can still hear my father’s deep voice imitating the Giant Rumblebuffin, and I remember his sickeningly sweet White Witch voice. Mostly, I remember begging for just one more chapter, and I recall how gently Dad reinforced my understanding of who Jesus was through our study of the four Pevensie children and their adventures with Tumnus, the Beavers, and of course, Aslan.
This year, rather than taking what I thought was my dream job in another state, I stayed put (mostly) and found myself back in my neighborhood school, teaching the same group of brilliant scalawags I had last year, except this time we are all a year older and wiser. The best part about this is that seventh graders in my school traditionally read The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe. Friends, the very thought of taking students on a journey through the Wardrobe seemed too good to be true. Reading books with kids is incredible, but reading great books is a piece of heaven on earth.
I was humbled at the prospect, and questioned whether I had the ability to communicate just how great the story is. Would the students enjoy it? Would they relate to the characters? Understand the vocabulary? Would the allegory make sense? Would they be changed by the story that had made such an impact on me?
We began reading on a Monday. Everything went fine. Then, on Tuesday, as we read about Mr. Tumnus, a proverbial flash of light filled my mind. There it was- something was happening in the story that I had never noticed. Sure, I had read about Mr. Tumnus having tea with Lucy. I’d probably read it 100 times in my life. But, until I read the passage with my students, I did not notice what Mr. Tumnus truly gave to her. I did not see his heart, and Lewis’ message in this simple meal. I had always skated over this scene, marveling over the kinds of foods English people enjoy with tea, and I had missed the whole thing.What that dear little faun gives Lucy is a place at the table. He offers her friendship, warmth, knowledge, and most of all, hospitality. Mr. Tumnus gave what he had, and though he was tempted to turn Lucy in, his true heart for hospitality called him to save her life. He thought that he could send a little girl into danger, but once he had broken bread with her, he knew he could not.
As we kept reading and studying, I saw it again and again. Over and over, the characters in this book sit and eat with one another, breaking bread in ways that point to Jesus, whose broken body is the salvation of all mankind.
The beavers welcome the children to their home, and Mrs. Beaver is at the ready, even though they have been walking for hours to meet her. They enter the dam to find her working on needle point in the corner. “‘So you’ve come at last!’ she said, holding out both her wrinkled old paws. ‘At last! To think that ever I should live to see this day! The potatoes are on boiling and the kettle’s singing and I daresay, Mr Beaver, you’ll get us some fish.’” Mrs. Beaver, like Mr. Tumnus, has longed for the day that the prophecy would be fulfilled. The long-expected saviors are now in her home and her *first* response is to feast.
What follows is a lavish and warm scene around the table. It’s a holy feast, anointed with the oil of freshly fried fish and “a great big lump of deep yellow butter in the middle of the table from which everyone took as much as he wanted.” The meal is rich, nourishing and plentiful. Placed against the bleak backdrop of eternal winter, it is an example of true hospitality that points to how welcome the children are, and how richly they will be blessed by Narnian fellowship.
This text reminds us of our call to radical gospel hospitality. This is convicting to me, because too often I am the White Witch- giving what looks good but is actually selfish. However, we are to be like Mr. & Mrs. Beaver- expectantly waiting to serve our very best. Their rich table was a widow’s mite, and they found joy in giving it away for the sake of their savior. May we do the same.
