What about this for the Christian component?

[Jeff Gerke]

I got inspired by a discussion going on in the Plot forums and wrote this message up. I've copied it here, too, so I'm sure we're discussing it in all the right places.

What do you think about this:

I like the idea that neither the fantasy folks nor the SF folks have learned the truth. Wouldn't it be cool if (from a theological perspective) this whole story--the SF and fantasy worlds discovering each other and coming into conflict--was really God's way of causing both worlds to discover Him?

I read years ago that giant sequoias do not drop their seeds to produce offspring unless superheated. In other words, unless the tree is ON FIRE it won't drop its seeds to reproduce itself. (The thick outer trunk acts like insulation to protect the tree.)

We're like that sometimes. If not for this current crisis and conflict I never would've discovered X or realized Y. So I've come to see this as a blessing.

What if the sides begin as fantasy vs. SF, but then somehow a few members from both sides stumble upon the new truth?

Like the space marines have lined up to mow down the templar knights in a massive battle; the battle is fully engaged; the SF weaponry is too great for the medieval warriors--but they have used their ingenuity and the space marines' arrogance to slip behind the defenses and take the SF commander captive and are about to kill him; the fighting has gone to hand-to-hand, where the fantasy warriors have the advantage.

But suddenly there is an earthquake and a great flash of light and this unknown God reveals Himself. Both sides are struck speechless. The magic of the fantasy types and the technology of the SF types are both rendered useless as they all stare in awe, shoulder to shoulder, at this incredible Being, and listen as He utters His cryptic but compelling New Truth.

Then how wonderful if the survivors of this battle realize that everybody's been wrong and the only way to prevent a disaster of titanic proportions is for the warriors of both sides--the veterans of this battle only--to unite.

So now you have unlikely allies united both for and against elements from the fantasy and SF worlds. There aren't enough of these warriors (the ones who witnessed the miracle) to take on the armies of both the fantasy and SF worlds--or even one or the other--but if they work together and pool their technology, magic, and wits, they just might be able to stave off the disaster.

And in the meantime, both groups are strugging with what it must mean (to them, to the world, to the galaxy) that this new God really exists. What is He like? What does He desire? How is He to be served and worshipped? In love? In fear? With sacrifice? While some of this newly united group is trying to avert the Big Bad Thing, some of them are gravitating to the more priestly positions and working to figure out what this religion ought to be.

I always hesitate to post things like this. I'm afraid people will feel like they must automatically accept my input because I organized this whole project. But I want to be just another participant. If you guys think my ideas are good (and if you would've thought that if I'd just been Joe Blow), then great, let's use them. But if they stink or just don't fit with what the group wants to do, that's cool, too.

Jeff

[Jeff Gerke]

And, of course, who becomes their main enemy but the religious establishment of both worlds. Now there's ANOTHER unexpected alliance--the fantasy priests and the SF priests--working together to put a stop to this new religion. Like the Pharasees and the Sadducees.

I don't want to push the comparison too much. I don't want this to become an allegory for the birth of Christianity in our world, with analogues for Christ, Peter, Caiphas, etc. But it's an interesting touchpoint that might bring some familiarity to our otherworldly story.

Jeff

[tk1912]

If I may be so bold, what if, instead of having two sides of a battle witness this in-breaking of the divine, we had only two people, a sci-fi hero and a fantasy hero?

These two have been seeking to kill each other through most of the story and somehow encounter each other in a remote location and begin to fight one-on-one, the sci-fi hero relying on technological gadgets and the fantasy hero on magic.

They find themselves evenly matched and at each other's throats when we have the brilliant flash of light and earthquake and all. Both initially think it's something that the other did, but then the flash of light speaks to them and they realize that it's Something (or Someone) More.

They can't fight each other anymore and go back to both sides. The kicker is, both men (or man and woman or women or whatever) are changed by the encounter. They aren't as hostile or arrogant or whatever. Their compatriots immediately notice the change but don't believe them when they describe what happened.

I would place this fight at maybe the second disaster. If we go with my MacGuffin/Three-Act Structure (and it doesn't matter if we don't, I'm just brainstorming here), this encounter with the "something more" could be the way that the fantasy world learns about the MacGuffin.

[dulci]

I like the idea of the enemy then becomming the religious institutions. That's sharp. But yeah, no monikers for Ciaphus and company!

Cool idea!

About the one-on-one...unless each of these characters are written extraordinarily, I'm not sure that would pull off too well. There might be a particular two that are caught up in the thick of it, maybe ready to kill eachother when this whole event occurs, but just a one-on-one might not be enough push to get anything particular in motion! Seems to me, in the thick of any conflict, both sides wouldn't want to hear about the visions of two single people.

[Jeff Gerke]

This week I've been reading Revelation 5, the scene in heaven in which the mighty angel announces that no one can open the scroll in God's hand.

It struck me as odd that here, in the center of heaven--at the very throne of God, after this incredible display of power, what we're seeing is God basically "stuck."

No one can open the scroll.

John weeps and weeps and weeps over this state of affairs. Something the God of the universe wants done CANNOT BE DONE. What a heart-rending travesty!

Now, don't hear me as impugning God's sovereignty. Clearly this is symbolic language and God can, of course, do anything. This was all part of His plan, and look! there is the Lamb waiting in the wings to come do the thing God wants done. Right on schedule. God was never really stuck.

But it got me to thinking. We know that God sometimes limits Himself. Jesus coming to earth as a human child is the classic example. And even when He was in His ministry Jesus admitted He didn't know everything, that some things only God knew.

And I believe God desires us to be co-laborers with Him, which to me means that if we're not obedient then sometimes things that God wants done don't get done because we didn't do our part.

All that is to say, what if the vision the fantasy and SF warriors see on the battlefield (should we choose to go that way) is essentially a supernatural enactment of a scene like the one in Revelation 5?

What if the warriors are stopped in their battle because suddenly, intruding onto their bloodshed, is a scene playing out in heaven? Glowing beings stride around a glowing throne (or whatever our imagery would be) and the glowing herald cries out that some Great Thing must be done but cannot be done. No one can be found to do the Great Thing.

The warriors find themselves falling to their knees in bitter weeping. Everything is forgotten but the desire to do the Great Thing for this being.

Then, like the angelic host who announced the nativity to the shepherds, suddenly the sky is empty again and the warriors are left staring at each other.

Should they keep fighting? What just happened? Why were we all crying? And how can we make the Great Thing happen?

What sayest thou?

Jeff

[dulci]

That's pretty cool. I'm wondering how it would be set up, though (there would have to be some subtle inter-weavings in the beginning so that the incident isn't an out-of-nowhere). I really think that would be a powerful scene. Something less usual, more emotion-evoking.

And then where would they go from there? Would they try and do this Great Thing? Could the great thing only be accomplished through some type of ultimate sacrifice? Could the great thing only be accomplished through the faith and belief of a child?

Maybe everyone starts wandering about in their minds over what they can do to accomplish this great thing, awed with this vision, and they come up with elaborate plans according to their old ways. But maybe it is one child, innocent, who ends up doing what all the armies in the worlds cannot do.

Maybe in the midst of all the chaos of the battlefield-believers trying to incite some type of plan and their unbelieving enemies trying to thwart everything and set the order of the universe straight again...maybe emerging from this chaos is one small child who does the impossible, arresting the awe and ultimately the humility of everyone else involved.

[tk1912]

What I think would be fun is if not everyone who experiences the revelation reacts in the same way afterwards.

Don't get me wrong, when the Divine breaks into the story, everyone should be on the ground weeping. I'm not saying that we should throw that out.

Instead, though, I think everyone shouldn't be changed in the same way.

One group of people (our definite heroes) convert enthusiastically. They realize what they've seen and it immediately changes them.

Another group of people aren't so sure. They know that they've changed but they're not happy about the change. These are the fence-riders, so to speak, the ones who might become heroes as the story goes on or who might become villains.

And then there's the third group: they pick themselves up off the ground after the in-breaking and are embarrassed and humiliated by what happened. They don't believe that it was anything divine; instead, they claim it was the stress of battle, a mass hallucination, or more likely, a weapon used by the other side. If they believe that last possibility, they might be motivated to win this war that much quicker so they can take possession of this terrific weapon and use it on their own kind.

[Jeff Gerke]

This is great, TK. The same event strikes people in different ways. It shows their character, their agenda, their hurts, etc. Excellent.

Jeff

[dulci]

Yeah, that's awesome TK!

[terry]

Of the three types of metaphor, allegory is the most difficult to acheive. Tolkien had God's truths prent themselves in symbols but not in allegory. Lewis used some allegory but Narnia's Aslan was not Jesus, he was a metaphor of Jesus' qualities and attributes. Allegory no, but Christian principles, ideals etc expressed in metaphor absolutely. I cannot think of a single strict allegory Jesus ever used, but his examples of metaphor abound. The use of magic, must be handled carefully. A non-Divine use of meta-physical properties is a can of worms that should not be too easily opened...
The Christianity of Fantasy stories can be thematic without being overt (Smeegal disappears under his over use of the ring of power) --but it can also be more direct, more allegorical (Aslan's re-birth from the stone table at Cair Paraveal), but a Sf/fan Pilgrims Progres? I don't think so. This should not make us hesitate to weave Jesus and his truths into the fabric of our story--lets just be subtle, careful about it. Thank you.

[dulci]

Definately agreed, Terry. The worst thing in any fiction, I think, is a plastered on message.

[mongoose]

Perhaps the second worst thing would be to craft a metaphore of a God made in our image. The zealots wanted Jesus to come and blast the Romans, but He didn't. The Crusaders wanted God to come and blast the muslim infidels, but He didn't. He didn't even blast the worshipers of achera, or whomever it was Elijah challenged (I've been thinking too long today. It'll come back to me later.) God doesn't often reveal himself in the sky to a bunch of people, nor does He often do anything overt, himself, to make an impression on a lot of people. Rather, He inspires and empowers His people to do His work for Him, working in mysterious ways that MAKE NO SENSE to us. He died, for the sake of grace, canceling out Justice! Who would have thunk it? Certainly not us. Even now we plan on His return being a huge, celestial event that slaps everyone up-side the head and says, "See?! Told ya so!" Granted, the Bible implies that something like that will occure in the future, but what about now? What about us? What about our story? If we're speaking of the dawn of truth into the galaxy, we ought to be talking about something more similar to God's work with Noah, or Abraham, or John the Baptist. These people did the work of God, and were blest and empowered by Him to be successfull in it, and they brought many people to belief in Him.

I believe sacrifice is essential. It's throughout tolkien, though less obviously, lewis, dekker, lawhead, though less obvious there, again, and hancock. It's throughout the Bible. The first shall be last, and the least shall be first. Put yourself in the lowliest place at the party, that you may be exalted, rather than at the high place where you'll be knocked down in favor of someone greater. Serve your brothers, and let him who would be greatest, make himself the servant of all. Take up your cross daily, die to yourself, and follow Him. Greater love has no man than that He lay down His life for a friend (much more for an enemy!) The story of the peace child in the modern jungles.

Now, my PC, by dying, probably wouldn't be considered much of a martyer, seeing as how he has so little faith (if any.) But that could change over the course of the story. He could come to faith, and then, the mighty warrior who was the last hope for the village, the one man who could have reached into the empirial army and assasinated their leader, or whatever, instead walks boldly and alone to meet the army, lays down his arms, tells them the truth, and asks, "Would you kill your superior officer to vanquish a people that would coexist peacefully with you?" or something. They harden their hearts and kill him anyway, or whomever we select as our sacraficial lamb, but out of that death something cool happens. The one who lands the killing blow sees the innocence in his victim's eyes, an impossible innocence considering the man's life of sin. But being guilty of so much sin himself, longing for reconciliation with creation, himself, what he sees breaks his heart. Having just killed the new prophet, he repents, and somehow turns the rest of his unit. They ask the villagers for forgiveness. The villagers minister to them, and united, they turn to change the course of the war, to lead their various people's to the Truth. Many of them are cut down, but they go willingly to death, and many others are impressed, persuaded by the power of the Truth itself, and join them.

In the end there should not be a massive conversion. I, as a reader, would not buy it. But perhaps the war could end in an uneasy truce, with the emperial fleet having lost the will to continue to fight, faced with too many of their own people serving as a human shield around the natives of the fantasy realm, even those who would sooner kill them than look at them.

Or something.

[terry]

I like this direction. Joseph, Patrick, Tasquetum (Squnto), and Jim Eliot's family all demonstrae that those murdered, enslaved etc. by one race are often the very ones to aid or cause their enslavers to change. Our story could easily have this as its plot or sub-plot. Think of Ireland before Patrick's cruel enslavement and Ireland after his return as a missionary, he converted an entire nation almost single handedly...Perhaps the SiFi group's brutal invasions would be start to change (Vikings) because of their coming to know the mercy of God. God allowed one man to do it in a generation, (Patrick) but you are right most take much longer. Thank you.