Miracle versus Magic
The subtitle could be “A Battle Between Christianity and Gnosticism.”

In one of my classes, we recently had a discussion related to miracles and magic as viewed by Eric Voegelin and JRR Tolkien, with a sidenote related to ‘arry Potter.

I’ll attempt to address the difference between the two, the implications of each related to the author and to the culture that produces and follows each. Track with me here, read the whole thing, or you’ll errantly begin to think I’ve joined the anti-Harry Potter crowd.

Some preliminary and extremely basic explanations of Gnosticism are in order. I’ll keep it concise – too brief, in fact, to explain it in any serious significance, but enough to perhaps see the relevance.

Gnosticism is a post-Classical-Greek Hellenic philosophy. It emerged from Greece about six-hundred years prior to Christ, like other Greek philosophies of the time (e.g. Stoicism, Epicureanism,, etc), as a way of wrestling with the deterioration of the polis and of community in Greek life. The points of reference by which Greeks once defined themselves – as members of the polis, occupying a distinct place in the local community – were falling away, and new ways of thinking about the world around and the individual began to emerge. Gnosticism has an element of “flungness” – that is, a feeling that we are spiritual beings cast into a harsh and alien setting. Gnostics were hostile to the material world, in large part, desiring escape. The Gnostic sees the world as a place of oppression, not beautiful but brutally unfamiliar. We are not meant to be here, says the Gnostic. Why are we here, and how will we escape? Who has flung us here?

An element of Christianity greatly appealed to Gnosticism. Rather than seeing Christ as the perfect union of flesh and Spirit, the fully man and fully divine Son of God sent to sanctify and purify man… Gnostics saw Christ as the figure sent to rescue us from the evils of the material world. Paul cries out against the wickedness of the flesh. Gnostics, believing the physical, material world, latched onto that element, detaching it from the whole of Christianity and rejecting the material creation of God. Many Gnostics accepted Christ in a sense, but chose to believe that Lucifer was superior to YHWH. YHWH is too blame – He sent us here. Lucifer, they believed, is the god of light and imagination, the one who sent Christ to rescue us from this world. Many, though, stuck with YHWH but drastically changed his nature and purpose. And thus the earliest of Christian heresy was born, a heresy still insidiously prevalent in the Church.

On to magic and miracle. Understand that I am using magic in a very specific sense, which I will explain. Some things called magic are in fact “miracle;” some things called miracle are “magic.” Some are not easy or simple to classify. Hopefully by the conclusion of my discourse you’ll have a clearer view of the lines of distinction between the two.

According to Eric Voegelin, a culture’s fascination with magic generally displays a heightening in Gnostic tendencies. Often, magic is merely the defiance of the physical, the created and natural world. Movies like the Matrix resoundingly echo the message of flungness, the desire to escape the physical, the idea that the world we live in is foreign, alien, hostile, wicked. The desire to escape the bounds of our created world through secret knowledge and skill shout Gnosticism, shout a disillusionment with the creation of God.

Of course, the problem is that we do live in a fallen world, a creation made hostile by the twisting of sin. The Christian recognizes that the earth is a fallen domain, given over to a sinister evil bent on our destruction. The difference, the critical line of division between Gnosticism and Christianity, is that we should seek to sanctify the world, not flee it. We recognize that it is given over to evil only for a season – that God’s original creation is good, and that no matter the twisting of sin, the stamp of the Creator still perseveres. We recognize the flesh as fallen, but not inherently evil. To be sure, we are depraved, but not irredeemable. To redeem and sanctify the earth is our mission, not to destroy, dominate, or flee.

And what, then, distinguishes miracle from magic?

The differences are in the source of the action and the purpose of the action.

The source of magic tends to be hidden power in oneself or some mystic outside force, spirit, or spirituality. The purpose can be to overcome the natural world, to gain power, to assert domination over another, increase one’s sphere of manipulation, yaddayaddadyadda.

Miracle, contrarily, comes straight from the Grace of the Creator. It is not an overcoming of the creation, but transcendence of it. One does not dominate, overpower, or manipulate nature. One transcends it through the power and grace of the God of creation. The purpose is always in favor of creation as an agent of the Creator. Never to destroy or escape, but always to sanctify, to remind all that this world is only temporarily in the clutches of the evil one.

This distinction is emphatic in The Lord of the Rings. Gandalf, a sort of lower angel actually, draws on the source of Illuvatar, Creator, for his magic. His spells are works of grace, obviously working with the goodness of the created world to fight the evil, the power that would seek to tarnish and twist Middle Earth. Sauron, by contrast, is the ultimate Gnostic practicing the false magic that seeks ever to dominate the created world and flee the power of the Creator.

A similar distinction, though less developed or powerful, can be found in C.S. Lewis’ Chronicles of Narnia. The Deep Magic of the Emperor Over the Sea is clearly miracle – the invocation of the grace of the Creator imbedded in His creation. The White Witch, of course, draws on powers of evil, a twisting of creation, an escape.

Scripture establishes a similar distinction with the story of Simon the magician in Acts 8. Simon, this magician, is astounded by the power of the Holy Spirit working through the disciples. When he sees the Holy Spirit filling people through the work of Peter and John, he’s astonished. Simon was a practitioner of “magic arts” who impressed the locals, and probably made a tidy profit too, because he offers the disciples a sum of money in return for being “taught” how to perform what he obviously sees as high magic art. Peter roundly condemns Simon, stating that “the gift of God” cannot be purchased with money.

How, then, does Harry Potter fit into this? Prior to Book Six, the series was largely Gnostic with allusions to more. The “flungness” of Harry, the escape from nature (though Rowling clearly does not show the abhorrence and hatred of the natural world to the extent of ancient Gnosticism), the freeing nature of secret, hidden knowledge. All very Gnostic. However, throughout the first five books there is the reference to love being higher than magic, to the power of love being ultimately significant. However, prior to The Half-Blood Prince, the references were rather vague and tended to suggest that “love” might just simply be the vague spiritual force typical of Gnostic magic. However, in Book Six, Dumbledore says something to the effect that “there is something higher than good magic or bad magic. There is love.” Of course, this could still be some sort of mystical force of escape. But the firmer statement reduces the Gnosticism of the text as a whole. One need only ask what or who the source of love is, supply the proper answer, and Harry Potter becomes miracle, not magic. Miracle with some great Gnostic tendencies, but miracle nonetheless.