June 10, 2012
Reading
from
Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s Stone
By J. K. Rowling
It may be helpful to experience Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry as Harry Potter first does:
Slipping and stumbling, they followed Hagrid down what seemed to be a steep, narrow path. It was so dark on either side of them that Harry thought there must be thick trees there. Nobody spoke much. Neville, the boy who kept losing his toad, sniffed once or twice.
“Yeh’ll get your fir’ sight o’ Hogwarts in a sec,” Hagrid called over his shoulder, “jus’ round this bend here.”
There was a loud “Oooooh!”
The narrow path had opened suddenly onto the edge of a great black lake. Perched atop a high mountain on the other side, its windows sparking in the starry sky, was a vast castle with many turrets and towers. (p. 111.)
(Remember, Harry Potter has spent his entire eleven years living in a closet under a staircase in the home of his aunt and uncle, whose own son has made his life very uncomfortable.)
. . . Feeling oddly as though his legs had turned to lead, Harry got into line behind a boy with sandy hair, with Ron behind him, and they walked into the chamber, back across the hall, and through a pair of double doors into the Great Hall.
Harry had never even imagined such a strange and splendid place. It was lit by thousands and thousands of candles that were floating in midair over four long tables, where the rest of the students were sitting. These tables were laid with glittering golden plates and goblets. At the top of the hall was another long table where the teachers were sitting. Professor McGonagall led the first years up here, so that they came to a halt in a line facing the other students, with the teachers behind them. The hundreds of faces staring at them looked like pale lanterns in the flickering candlelight. Dotted here and there among the students, the ghosts show misty silver. Mainly to avoid all the staring eyes, Harry poked upward and saw a velvety black ceiling dotted with stars. He heard Hermione whisper, “It’s bewitched to look like the sky outside. I read about it in Hogwarts, A History.
It was hard to believe there was a ceiling there at all, and that the Great Hall didn’t simply open up to the heavens. (pp. 116-117.)
CHORAL ANTHEM: Double, Double, Toil and Trouble
By Wm. Shakespeare and John Williams
SERMON
“Lessons from Hogwarts”
Rev. Dr. Gretchen Woods
Now that we have an image of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, site of the Harry Potter books by J.K. Rowling, I would like to move closer to out own space and time for just a few minutes, specifically to 2001. I refer to the movie Almost Famous, in which a fifteen-year-old journalist becomes enmeshed with a rock and roll band as it experiences a fleeting brush with fame in the 1960’s. He has the heady experience of writing for Rolling Stone while being tutored by an older, more experienced rock and roll writer. In the closing scene, his mentor reminds the younger man that both are “uncool,” not quite acceptable in the world of rock and roll.
How many of us relate to the notion of being “uncool?” I know I do. My clothes were never “in style,” nor had the
right label.” My shoes never fit, because I have off-size feet. I studied too much. I didn’t have money for a truly “cool radio, like the ones my classmates carried to the beach or pool in the summer. (Now, it’s ipods and tablets!) I have some idea how Harry Potter, Ron Weasley, and Hermione Granger felt in their early years at Hogwarts: unacceptable, out of place, oddly gifted, and trying to learn how to be in their world. Each had at least one special difficulty to overcome: Hermione, for all her intelligence, was trying to prove herself because she came from non-wizard stock. Ron has the vagaries of his poor, but diligent family. Harry had fame thrust upon him with no understanding of its meaning – or his, for that matter. So they arrive at Hogwarts and begin to study witchcraft and wizardry – each “uncool” in his or her own way.
An important area of learning at Hogwarts – and anywhere else – involves dealing with evil and its expression in the world. One element of evil’s expression is that each person who gives in to evil, gives away the best part of themselves in exchange for power. Professor Quirrell, Peter Pettigrew, and Tom Riddle himself: each focused on power. In addition, each fears death unrealistically. Contrast thie to Albus Dumbledore, the headmaster, speaking of his elderly colleague, Nicolas Flamel, “after all, to the well organized mind, death is but the next great adventure. “ (Rowling, I, p 297.)
Those who embody evil have lost the ability to love or express concern for others. Today we would call them sociopaths. They depend upon patterns of lies upon lies that take, literally, books to unravel. Further, each reflects M. Scott Peck’s assertion that true evil is the inability to accept one’s own limitations.
The most evil, Voldemort, when given a great gift of sacrifice by one of his followers, shows no concern for his follower’s pain:
He took no notice of Wormtail, who lay twitching and bleeding on the ground, . . . Voldemort slipped one of those unnaturally long-fingered hands into a deep pocket and drew out a wand. He caressed it gently too; then he raised it, and pointed it at Wormtail, who was lifted off the ground and thrown against the headstone where Harry was tied; he fell to the foot of it and lay there, crumpled up and crying. Voldemort turned his scarlet eyes upon Harry, laughing a high, cold, mirthless laugh. (Rowling, IV, p.644.)
Evil has no sense of connection to others, except in how that other person can be used to further one’s own path to power. It operates out of fear or greed. Relationship is flimsy at best; caring and non-existent at worst.
Given that each student at Hogwarts must deal with evil in some significant way and is learning how to live in a world of witchcraft and wizardry, what lessons prove useful to them? One of the most valuable: Go with your strengths, or, as Mad-Eye Moody puts it, “Play to your strengths.” Moody also reminds Harry to keep things simple as possible, even when facing a Hungarian Horntail dragon or a Dementor. It’s not always the most complicated solution that works best. When faced with his worst enemy, it is the first and simplest charm Harry learned that proves most useful. (Ibid. p. 663.)
Music has magical qualities that cannot be overlooked. In times of greatest trouble, it is the song of the phoenix that keeps Harry grounded and empowered. As Dumbledore notes, “Ah music,” he said, wiping his eyes. “A magic beyond all we do here.” (Rowling, I, p, 128.)
Repeatedly, Harry and the others learn that you can’t fight evil or accomplish any major task alone; teamwork and connections count for a great deal. Whether playing Quidditch, figuring out a problem, or conquering a maze, a group effort always seems to get the best results. Hermione’s focus and task orientation serves them all well, as does Ron’s loyalty. Harry courage and integrity seem to be his best qualities. Each has unique gifts that ultimately play important roles in facing difficulty, but it is the group effort that counts. As Dumbledore asserts:
I say to you all, once again – in the light of Lord Voldemort’s return, we are only as strong as we are united, as weak as we are divided. Lord Voldemort’s gift for spreading discord and enmity is great. We can fight it only by showing an equally strong bond of friendship and trust.”
This is a true expression of interdependence, an important Unitarian Universalist value.
Some of the lessons from Hogwarts that I like best are about fear. First, we learn that each person’s fear is particular to the individual.. As Professor Lupin asserts, “Nobody knows what a boggart looks like when he is alone, but when I let him out, he will immediately become whatever each of us most fears.” (Rowling, III, p, 133.) Now this probably is no surprise to any of you, but the next part might be: Lupin continues, “The charm that repels a boggart is simple, yet it requires force of mind. You see, the thing that really finishes a boggart is laughter. What you need to do is force it to assume a shape that you find amusing.” (Ibid. p. 134.) Then, we learn that the charm word against fear is “riddikulus,” We are blessed with the power of laughter and a sense of humor to overcome our fears.
Focus and force of mind continually play significant roles in learning to live in the world. Students must be able to concentrate on those things that bring joy into their world and let go of those that create fear. Harry survives one of the worst trials of his life when he is able to conjure a Patronus (a protective agent) by focusing upon thoughts that bring him greatest happiness, even though he is in terrible danger. (Ibid, p. 237.)
Time and again, the students learn to value differences, rather than disdain them. Giants, house elves, muggles – those who seem to be unimportant or below others – turn out to be important to the patterns of life and success in it. Dumbledore, yet again, says it best, “Differences of habit and language are nothing at all if our aims are identical and our hearts are open.” (Rowling, IV, p 723.) This deeply echoes our UU values.
Our Unitarian appreciation for logic and reasoning is well embodied in Hermione Granger, who thinks well and studies intently. She is a wonderful problem solver and thus proves helpful. It is she who reminds Harry to use his brain to think things through, and who helps with some of the knottiest mental problems they face. The value of collecting one’s thoughts and spending quiet time examining patterns in life is emphasized by Dumbledore in his use of the “pensieve,” into which one places one’s memories and lets them swirl into observable patterns which inform decisions. (Ibid. p. 597.)
Our Universalist value of love is affirmed from the very beginning when we learn that Harry is protected from the worst of evil because someone loved him enough to die for him. Dumbledore tells him, “. . . to have been loved so deeply, even though the person who loved is gone, will give us some protection forever. It is in your very skin.” (Rowling I, p. 299.) Voldemort cannot touch Harry’s skin without great pain. Also, the loving tears of the phoenix heal the deepest and most dangerous wounds.
Healing is not only a matter of potions and tears, but also of understanding and acceptance. Though Harry is exhausted from one of his trials, Dumbledore insists that he remain to hear a description of what has happened. He tells those who would send Harry away, “Understanding is the first step to acceptance, and only with acceptance can there be recovery.” (Rowling, IV, p. 680.) This may not b a complete formula for healing, but it certainly offers important elements.
There are so many lessons that time does not allow us to explore: that curiosity has its place (IV, p. 598.), that love of the power of office must not exceed one’s mercy (IV. P. 708.), that things are not always what they appear to be (III. p. 426.), that no one has it all figured out and under control – not even Albus Dumbledore. We are reminded that persistence, determination, and “a certain disregard for rules” have their place in successful living. Rules are in place for one’s safety – and a willingness to bend them can bring one to far deeper understanding, if one is willing to face the consequences. I was surprised that rereading Rowling offered so many deeper insights. I believe that Rowling, in these books that some would ban for witchcraft, reaches far more people and teaches more about responsible use of power and basic qualities of virtue than any religious extremist ever does.
From my UU perspective, the most important lesson is that our choices matter. In the first book Dumbledore says, “. . . humans do have a knack for choosing precisely those things that are worst for them.” (I, p.297.) In the second book he asserts, “It is our choices, Harry, that show what we truly are, far more than our abilities.” (II. P. 333.) Our chocies reveal our moral fiber (IV. P.507), which provides us the resilience to go on when things look impossible. Above all, one must pay attention to make the best choices.
Whether we are cool or “uncool,” whether we are young or middle-aged or old, we need safe places and good teachers from which to learn lessons that truly help us through life. Few of us ever become cool (I’m not certain that is the best goal in life anymore anyway!), but we can become worthwhile people through learning these lessons. It is my fervent wish that each of us, children and adults alike, find in our liberal religious community a loving and supportive environment in which we may learn valuable lessons about paying attention, using our power, resilience, reason, love, and how we best live in our world – with respect, responsibility, and relish for the process.
So Be It! Blessed Be!