This four-part series explores how we can fulfill our calling as Christians by cultivating “Narnian” hearts that sow the kingdom on earth, growing “little Edens.” Part one discussed the sickness of sin in our world. Look for two more posts after this one.

By Karissa Riffel

Solomon famously asked God for wisdom, and Scripture tells us “It is the glory of God to conceal things, but the glory of kings is to search things out” (Proverbs 25:2).  So how does Uncle Andrew in The Magician’s Nephew go so wrong? Can knowledge be bad?

A Serpent

Uncle Andrew, who fancies himself a magician, tricks Digory and Polly into trying magic rings he is too afraid to touch himself. Like the serpent in the garden tempting Eve to eat the fruit to gain the knowledge of good and evil, he wants secret knowledge and ultimate power.

Later, the children learn why Charn is empty: the queen wanted to win the war at any cost, so she gained knowledge of the destructive “Deplorable Word,"despite being bound by an ancient oath never to do so. She sought power over life and death, and she wielded it selfishly. It’s not difficult to see the parallels to Uncle Andrew’s thirst for knowledge, though here these desires are traced to their end, and we find the line between a selfish man and a destroyer of worlds perilously thin. 

No one imagines themselves as being like the queen, wreaking destruction to become a ruler of the world, and yet this drama that often plays out in our daily lives. Our temptation is to seek our own greatness, desiring godlike control over our circumstances. And yet that kind of power is self-seeking and wrong.

Take of My Fruit for Others

In Narnia, Digory speaks to Aslan about healing his ailing mother. But, like the biblical Adam, Digory has allowed evil into the world, the queen. He must admit his fault: how he hurt Polly back in Charn when he rang the enchanted bell, despite warnings. Again, what appears as simple curiosity tips over the knife edge into selfishness. 

Aslan sends Digory and Polly on this quest to a mountain where they will retrieve an apple from a garden to save Narnia. “Take of my fruit for others or forbear,” says the sign on the gates, “for those who steal . . . shall find their heart’s desire and find despair.”[1] The words highlight a contrast between Digory and the Witch: the gates opened for him, while the Witch had to climb the wall, breaking in where she was not invited. 

Aslan allows Digory in for the good of Narnia. Though Digory is tempted by the Witch to take the fruit to heal his mother, he does not. Later he learned from Aslan that gaining his heart’s desire would have brought despair. He takes the apple back to Aslan, who has him plant it by the river. The apple sprouts into a lush tree that will protect Narnia. In this way, he becomes like a redeemed Adam, as well as a model for us. He learns from his mistakes and chooses to do something that will help others instead of himself. Digory chooses love.

Choosing Love

Selflessness may seem like an obvious virtue; it is the golden rule after all—love your neighbor as yourself. However, this virtue is difficult to practice, especially in today’s self-obsessed culture. Even seeking things that appear good on the outside, like knowledge, can lead to despair when they are motivated by a desire to seek our own greatness.

In 1 Corinthians 13, the famous love chapter, Paul writes, “If I have prophetic powers, and understand all mysteries and all knowledge . . . but have not love, I am nothing” (v. 2). And yet he follows this up with the promise that when the “perfect comes," we will know fully, even as we are “fully known” (v. 12). 

This tells us that seeking knowledge has its place, and we can even look forward to the day when we will understand great mysteries—but love is still at the center. When we choose love over selfishness, we choose to seek the kingdom, in this way cultivating a Narnian heart.  

NEXT TIME, Part 3: “A Love of Beauty Will Save the World”

Karissa Riffel is an English teacher, mother, and cohost of the Lit Ladies podcast. Her short fiction has appeared in various magazines and anthologies. Her nonfiction has appeared on The Rabbit Room blog and is forthcoming by the CiRCE Institute. She writes about art, literature, and faith on her Substack Midnight Ink.

[1] C. S. Lewis, The Magician’s Nephew (Harper Trophy, 1994).