Sitting with all my muscles tense, I was suddenly aware that I had been holding my breath. I had good reason to be. A skunk had emerged and was squatting near a squirrel, its gaze nervously flitting about. Strangely the two beavers nearby didn’t acknowledge either animal as they stood shoulder to shoulder, not quite holding hands, but with the same worried expression. They were watching as a sudden chill came upon the unicorn and centaur, freezing them in place after being touched by the witch’s wand. Now her attention had moved past the bear toward the beavers, and she was bearing down upon them. At the last minute, however, Edmund Pevensie broke her wand! So while the animals still all fell to the hags and ogres and ghouls, at least they weren’t being turned to stone. Then in all his resurrected glory, the lion entered from Stage Left and brought salvation for his kingdom as he took down the witch and restored life to the animals. Victory!
If you couldn’t tell, the Middle School is hard at work on its production of C.S. Lewis’ The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe, set to open on November 3rd (eek!). I’m having a blast helping students rehearse their lines and choreograph battle scenes. Last week we were moving at quarter speed through this particular scene in which 24 Middle School actors will be on stage at the same time - with weapons no less! Precision and placement are vital, so it was necessary to repeat the movements multiple times.
The young man playing Peter Pevensie was getting a bit dizzy as his sword clashes with the White Witch kept ending in his twirling out of the way so that Aslan could take her out in a manner convincing to the audience, yet safe for the young actress playing her. At one point Peter stumbled out of the way again only to stand up and put his hands on his hips. “It isn’t fair,” he proclaimed.
“What’s not fair?” our director asked.
“I spend this whole time fighting her and am the one memorizing all the moves, but then I just have to get out of the way, and Aslan gets to win.”
There was an awkward pause before the director responded with a chuckle. “He’s Jesus. Of course he gets to win!”
It’s possible the young man rolled his eyes, but there were enough “Oooh, rights” from the animals that made this moment significant. Jesus does get to win. Any victory we imagine to be our own is only made possible because of him. It’s not just that he swoops in at the last moment and deals the final blow; no, he was the lamb slain before the foundation of the world. If his resurrection hadn’t been assured before his death even started, we wouldn’t stand a chance. Our pathetic battles would be pointless. The reality of his ultimate victory heightens the joy of theater for me: that our tiny play would get to echo the grand gospel story. I only pray his “always getting to win” draws the hearts of my students closer to Jesus.
