Cultural Degeneration?

An article from Time magazine. This writer pointed out something that I'd felt was strange with the Harry series. And lots of children reading the Potter series.

But just to think that the world is a poorer place today in terms of culture - as compared to the noble and majestic themes of courage, sacrifice and fellowship in Tolkien's works and the childlike delight of wonder and exploration and redemption in Lewis' Chronicles of Narnia, somehow, I just feel that Potter can't measure up to these two noble literary works.

As Grossman subtly, but caustically, writes:

This charming notion represents a cultural sea change. In the new millennium, magic comes not from God or nature or anything grander or more mystical than a mere human emotion. In choosing Rowling as the reigning dreamer of our era, we have chosen a writer who dreams of a secular, bureaucratized, all-too-human sorcery, in which psychology and technology have superseded the sacred.

And I think that's the disease of an arising global cultural discourse in these last days. Instead of attaining cultural enrichment, we have sunk into cultural degradation. Degradation as in increasing triteness, increasing shallowness, decreasing meaning, decreasing permanence. We've mistaken novelty for authenticity. In short, we are "men without chests", and we're participating in our very own "Abolition of Man".

We have trivialised the beauty of man, made in the image of God, and have ground all that makes us human into the dust of the earth - "from dust you are, and to dust you shall return" - humanity's fallenness starkly epitomized.

Just compare today's "postmodern" art forms (think embalmed cows and bejewelled skulls) with the glories of the Renaissance, arguably the prime of humanity's art. In our attempts to scale the mountains of "relevance", we've scaled the peak - and stumbled over into the abyss below.

We have forsaken the spring of living waters and built for ourselves broken cisterns that cannot hold water. Lord, what can we do?

The Doubting Harry
By Lev Grossman

... Rowling's work is so familiar that we've forgotten how radical it really is. Look at her literary forebears. In The Lord of the Rings, J.R.R. Tolkien fused his ardent Catholicism with a deep, nostalgic love for the unspoiled English landscape. C.S. Lewis was a devout Anglican whose Chronicles of Narnia forms an extended argument for Christian faith. Now look at Rowling's books. What's missing? If you want to know who dies in Harry Potter, the answer is easy: God.

Harry Potter lives in a world free of any religion or spirituality of any kind. He lives surrounded by ghosts but has no one to pray to, even if he were so inclined, which he isn't. Rowling has more in common with celebrity atheists like Christopher Hitchens than she has with Tolkien and Lewis.

What does Harry have instead of God? Rowling's answer, at once glib and profound, is that Harry's power comes from love. This charming notion represents a cultural sea change. In the new millennium, magic comes not from God or nature or anything grander or more mystical than a mere human emotion. In choosing Rowling as the reigning dreamer of our era, we have chosen a writer who dreams of a secular, bureaucratized, all-too-human sorcery, in which psychology and technology have superseded the sacred.

When the end comes, where will it leave Harry? He'll face tougher choices than his fantasy ancestors did. Frodo was last seen skipping town with the elves. Lewis sent the Pevensie kids to the paradise of Aslan's Land. It's unlikely that such a comfortable retirement awaits Harry in the Deathly Hallows.