What If the World Is Enchanted?

Disenchantment and reenchantment are trending topics in Christian apologetics right now. Apologists are most likely responding to the data that says that many people consider themselves spiritual but not religious (although perhaps not as dramatically as some believe, suggests Ryan Burge). There is an opportunity for evangelism in the fact that the world is not as disenchanted as the Enlightenment thinkers hoped it would be, and as people are coming to recognize that there is actually something beyond the physical, they are finding a variety of ways to understand that reenchantment. There is a reason that paganism, for example, is seeing a resurgence as well. In Christian apologetics, we understand that paganism is a dead-end, and we have an opportunity to tell a better story for these people who are recognizing the reality of the supernatural but might be looking for answers in the wrong places. As a result, it is not at all surprising to see many apologists talking not only about reenchantment but also about the challenges that face a world where it might no longer be cool to categorically deny the metaphysical.

One of my favorite representations of this sort of enchantment comes from the opening chapter of Ray Bradbury’s Dandelion Wine. The chapter begins with young Douglas waking up and realizing it's the beginning of summer. Summer is not just a meteorological phenomenon; it is a magical event.

‍One night each week he was allowed to leave his father, his mother, and his younger brother Tom asleep in their small house next door and run here, up the dark spiral stairs to his grandparents’ cupola, and in this sorcerer’s tower sleep with thunders and visions, to wake before the crystal jingle of milk bottles and perform his ritual magic.

‍He stood at the open window in the dark, took a deep breath and exhaled.

The street lights, like candles on a black cake, went out. He exhaled again and again and the stars began to vanish.

Douglas smiled. He pointed a finger.

There, and there. Now over here, and here …

‍Yellow squares were cut in the dim morning earth as house lights winked slowly on. A sprinkle of windows came suddenly alight miles off in dawn country.

‍“Everyone yawn. Everyone up.”

The great house stirred below.

‍The disenchanted world would say that he wasn’t actually doing anything. He was not performing any magic; the streetlights went out because it was the right time. He pointed, and the lights went on because people hit the light switches and turned them on. The explanations are purely natural, and Douglas had no part in the process.

‍However, what if he did?

What if he were much more like the way GK Chesterton describes God in his masterpiece, Orthodoxy? “It is possible that God says every morning, ‘Do it again’ to the sun; and every evening, ‘Do it again’ to the moon. It may not be automatic necessity that makes all daisies alike; it may be that God makes every daisy separately, but has never got tired of making them. It may be that He has the eternal appetite of infancy; for we have sinned and grown old, and our Father is younger than we. The repetition in Nature may not be a mere recurrence; it may be a theatrical encore.” Douglas feels like it is not necessary for the lights to turn on. His pointing makes them happen. It is a classic chicken-and-egg dilemma. Yes, they were going to turn on the light, but was it because of his pointing? Perhaps, and perhaps not. At least for Douglas, in his young imagination, he was a magician waking up the town from his tower. If he had not been there telling the people to “Do it again,” perhaps the light would not have been turned on that morning.

‍This sense of magic is what is driving reenchantment. Disenchantment is a failed experiment; it cannot satisfactorily explain events that seem to extend beyond physical reality. In a way, disenchantment forces a no-God of the gaps argument. If there is something that can’t be explained, then the answer cannot possibly be God. They have to find another explanation, and it has simply proven to be impossible. Some will counter this by simply saying that science will continue to march on, but at that point, they are making as much of a faith-based argument as any believer in any religion. At that point, the absolute believer in science as the answer to all questions is extending well beyond the scientific method, making claims without empirical evidence, and pretending they are not.

‍It is important to note that Chesterton was not denying the legitimacy of the scientific method. He was simply arguing that it is possible that everything that we believe we understand about science is wrong. The regularity of the universe may not be simply the result of natural laws. If God exists, He is more than capable of telling the sun to rise every day. It is not as if He is constrained by scientific laws; it could be a series of individual choices that He happens to like. Christians often assume the other side, that God set the laws of nature in place and the world runs by them. That seems to be true, but in an enchanted world, we need to be open to the possibility that a very real person is involved at every level of existence. What seem to be immutable laws may be individual choices; we are not in a position to judge.

‍This emphasizes one key area where paganism begins to suffer, at least in its modern form. Where ancient pagans believed in a variety of gods and goddesses, modern paganism tends to place the locus of control in the individual. In the article I referenced earlier, the author writes:

“At the heart of these practices is the fact that witchcraft enables me to see the world through a more balanced lens. I’ve felt the reassuring presence of the otherworldly in the midst of difficult circumstances, and I know that magic happens when I summon the strength to draw boundaries or stir away the guilt that bubbles up if I choose self-care over self-sacrifice.”

‍You can obviously see the reference to the rejection of absolute materialism. There is a clear understanding that something exists beyond the physical. As a Christian, I would agree and say it is good to reject absolute materialism. However, notice who is doing the magic. Magic happens when the author does things. In other words, the supernatural is a result of saying magic words. The decision-maker is not the supernatural but rather the practitioner.

I have a feeling this is why paganism is so popular right now; we like to be in control. Why would we not want a religious belief that puts us in control? While Christianity tells us that God is Lord over all and one day everyone is going to acknowledge that fact, whether they like it or not, paganism tells me that I can summon power when I need it to help me right now.

‍However, I have to wonder how fulfilling a religion is when I am the boss. I am not always perfect. I do not always have perfect motives. I might use powers for evil purposes because I want something really bad. And the funny part is that most of us have a conscience, and we realize when we do these things. We understand that we are not perfect. If I am the boss, there is no one to hold me accountable, but there is also no one to help put the pieces back together. The entire burden of straightening out the world lies on my shoulders after I have broken it. I don’t know about you, but in my experience, there are times when I run out of ideas and don’t know what to do. Any belief system that requires me to be the be-all and end-all, even me with magical powers, seems like it is going to be a path to frustration.

I started this essay by talking about disenchantment and reenchantment. It seems as if we are moving beyond absolute disenchantment, which is good. Therefore, as Christians, it is our responsibility to help guide people toward a truly fulfilling worldview rather than one that leads to the idolatry of self and of whatever other objects are elevated to the place of God.