"I am [in your world]," said Aslan. "But there I have another name. You must learn to know me by that name. This was the very reason why you were brought to Narnia, that by knowing me here for a little, you may know me better there."

-- C.S. Lewis, The Voyage of the Dawn Treader

When we think of art, we also think of the good, the beautiful, the transcendent. We know deep down that art is not just about aesthetic pleasure but contains deeper truths and mysteries revealed only by imagination's eye. Art draws our gaze from the material to the immaterial, from the ordinary to the transcendent, and through it, we divine a small glimpse of the Divine. While we can intuit this and indeed experience it, the question remains how does art help us know God? What is the role of art in knowing God?

Here it is helpful to turn to the work of C.S. Lewis. In The Voyage of the Dawn Treader, characters Edmund and Lucy are distraught. Their time in Narnia is drawing to a close. It dawns on them that their time with Aslan is also nearing its end. Aslan reassures them that their departure from Narnia does not mean the end of their relationship with Aslan. In fact, Aslan lives in their world, and by knowing him here, in Narnia, they have learned how to know him in their world.

In this scene, Aslan reveals the pedagogic function of Narnia. As beautiful, wonderful, and fantastic as it seems, Narnia is not an end in and of itself. Narnia is a training ground. Here, through their adventures, they have come to know Aslan more deeply, but this isn't the end. Narnia has expanded their imagination and, in turn, prepared them for life in their world. By learning Aslan's name in Narnia, they are ready to learn his name in the "real" world, that is, the world in which they rightfully belong. Knowing Aslan is but a stepping stone. He desires that they know him more fully in their world. The spiritual journey of Narnia has equipped them to continue that journey.

Aslan's words are a meta-commentary of Lewis's allegorical nature and indeed art as a whole. Narnia, the series, is not an end, but is a means by which one prepares to encounter the real Aslan of our world, the second person of the triune God of the Christian, Jesus. By stepping into Narnia, the reader is made ready to face the reality of God outside the pages of Lewis' fantasy.

Art, in general, serves a similar purpose. Art is a window into the transcendent. The imagination discerns things often missed by reason. In art and in beauty, we get a glimpse. Like an appetizer, it whets our palette and prepares us for the real thing. Thus after reading a poignant poem or viewing a saccharine sculpture, we long for more. That "more" will only be satisfied when we encounter the real: the reality to which the art itself points. Aslan's words ring true; by experiencing beauty through art, we gain a brief glimpse into the divine, and in turn, are prepared to know it when we experience God for ourselves.

Thus art is not an end in and of itself. Like Narnia, it is pedagogic and preparatory. Art is not divine revelation. It falls under the category of general or natural revelation. Art helps us to know but in part. It is a signpost we are meant to follow to its telos, like following a river, we arrive to find the water grows purer the further, and farther we venture towards its source.

This does not diminish our experiences with art. Often when we think of figurative art or art that serves a pedagogical purpose, we tend to believe that the art itself is secondary. We believe that because the art itself isn't the end, it is diminished in its purpose, which is why artists, especially artists of faith, ask that we make art for art's sake. But I think this misunderstands our experience of art and our experience of God. There is a reason why Narnia is not just a figment of the Pevensie children's imagination. If Lewis made Narnia a dream, then Narnia loses its magic. It becomes another moral fable and loses its mythopoeic quality. The children's experiences in Narnia are real. They matter, which is the reason behind their power, both for the Pevensie children and ourselves as readers. Our experiences with art are genuine.

The fact that they point beyond themselves is what gives power to those experiences of artistic transcendence. Aslan isn't diminished because he is a shadow of Christ but is empowered because he is the cosmic Christ present on earth and in Narnia. Art is poignant because beauty finds its ultimate source in the creator. St. Augustine helps us make this distinction. In De Doctrina Christiana, Augustine distinguishes between enjoyment and use. Art is a thing to be used. God is the only thing to be enjoyed; using art to enjoy God does not devalue art. Using art to enjoy God is what gives art its divine quality. We devalue art when art becomes an end in and of itself. By making it an end, we rob it of its divine potential, its capacity to shape us and transform us.

Art, done well, is incarnational. It is charged with the power of the sacred and imbued with the presence of God. While we contemplate their beauty, we learn to notice the creator's hand, moving in the world, beckoning us to draw near. Art is but a taste of the eschatological feast, but only if we are brave enough to leave it behind, and by knowing it here for a little, we will know Him better there.