"Art is only a means to life, to the life more abundant. It is not in
itself the life more abundant. It merely points the way, something
which is overlooked not only by the public, but very often by the
artist himself. In becoming an end, it defeats itself."

Henry Miller

In traditional religion, an icon is a picture. And the picture is a window. The window opens onto the Reality that is more real than the reality we see. We only see the picture, but through the picture, we can see the thing that is the most Real.

See this ring on my left hand? What is it? It is a wedding ring, joined to an engagement ring. What does it mean? It means I am a married woman. Is the ring my marriage? Is it a wedding? Is the ring Love? No. But the ring means all those things, and it speaks in a language that does not have words. It is a symbol. It is an icon. It is a window, and the window opens into the reality.

The music with the drums in steady rhythm and the sound of brass and wind and marching ... is it an army? Is it a war? Is it triumph or resolution or sacrifice or noble aims or brutality or bravery? No. It is music. And it speaks without words. Its language is melody and the beat of a legion of marching feet. It means something.

When the Harry Potter books first burst onto the scene of homeschooling families, there were those who decried (again - again and again) the use of the genre for story telling with children. We must not pretend. We must tell our children the "truth" and not give them the impression that there is any such thing as a witch. (Or a talking animal - or anything fantastical.) The "truth," these people - these adamant, shrill, hyper-vigilant, eternally worried people - is confined to our five senses combined with our "reason."

Susan Pevensie: Are you saying we should believe her story?
Professor Kirke: Why not?
Susan Pevensie: Well, it can't be real, logically.
Professor Kirke: Logic? What are they teaching at schools these days?
Susan Pevensie: Lucy thinks she's found a magical land...
Professor Kirke: Hmmm.
Susan Pevensie: In the upstairs wardrobe.
Professor Kirke: [eyes widening, he rushes to the children] What? What did you say?
Peter Pevensie: Our sister... she thinks she's found a wood...
Professor Kirke: What was it like?
Susan Pevensie: Like talking to a lunatic...
Professor Kirke: No, no, not her, the wood!
Susan Pevensie: [stares] You don't mean you believe her?
Professor Kirke: And you don't?

"Faith, our outward sense befriending,
Makes our inward vision clear."

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