Old enough to read fairy tales

Okay, I admit it, I cried during some scenes in The Lion, The Witch, and The Wardrobe (LWW for short). Tonight, while finishing up Lewis' The Horse and His Boy a few tears fell again. Perhaps now in my advanced years (remember, I am now 43... horrors!) I am old enough to read fairy tales. Lewis wrote that line in the dedication to his goddaughter and it has been published in every edition of LLW. Obviously it has nothing to do with base literacy. Let's face it, the words in fairy tales are hardly difficult to read, but remember Lewis was a professor of literature and for him reading was far more than simply knowing the meaning of words in print. Reading was connection, and tonight, just like when I sat watching LLW (all three times actually), I connected again with what Lewis (and Tolkien) called "true myth". Unfortunately today the word myth has taken on a connotation of falsehood, but that isn't quite what they had in mind when they used the word. Christians get terribly squirmish in use of the word "myth", but as this wonderful article from Christianity Today states, Myth Matters. Here are are a couple of samples of what touched me tonight:

"Don't you think it was bad luck to meet so many lions?" said Shasta.

"There was only one lion," said the Voice.

"What on earth do you mean? I've just told you there were at least
two the first night, and--"

"There was only one; but he was swift of foot."

"How do you know?"

"I was the lion." And as Shasta gaped with open mouth
and said nothing, the voice continued. "I was the lion
who forced you to join with Aravis. I was the cat who
comforted you among the houses of the dead. I was the
lion who drove the jackals from you while you slept. I
was the lion who gave the Horses the new strength of fear
for the last mile so that you should reach King Lune.
And I was the lion you do not remember who pushed the boat
in which you lay, a child near death, so that it came to shore
where a man sat, wakeful at midnight, to receive you...

Who are you? asked Shasta.

"Myself," said the Voice, very deep and low so that the
earth shook: and again, "Myself," loud and clear and gay;
and then the third time "Myself," whispered so softly you
could hardly hear it, and yet it seemed to come from all
around you as if the leaves rustled with it...

He [Shasta] turned and saw, pacing behind him, taller than
the horse, a Lion. The horse did not seem to be afraid of
it or else could not see it. It was from the Lion that the
light came. No one ever saw anything more terrible or beautiful.

Myth, properly understood and applied in the hands of a master, connects you to "the true", or, to sound a little more philosophical, to Plato's highest form, "The Good" (or for Lewis you can remove one 'o'). For a Christian what better mental image of God can you ask for? What better way to describe a being who is perfect love, perfect mercy, perfect compassion, as well as perfect justice (the attribute most often forgotten) as someone who is both terrible and beautiful! When I read stories like this it makes me stop all of the generally meaningless hustle and bustle of my own life and experience the same reaction as Shasta:

But after one glance at the Lion's face he slipped out of the
saddle and fell at its feet. He couldn't say anything but then
again he didn't want to say anything, and he knew he needn't say
anything