Musings on the Symbolism of Harry's Scar

After reading Erin's poem the other day, especially the last stanza, I remembered some scattered thoughts I'd tried to put together when discussing Harry's scar during a Barnes & Noble online forum in 2005. (It was an excellent reader's group moderated by John Granger right after the publication of Half-Blood Prince.)

I saved a lot of the longer comments I made to that class, wanting to preserve some of my HP musings, and yesterday I went back and found the ones I was thinking of. I'm going to paste them in below, with only slight editing for clarity (and to cut references to the ongoing discussion from two years ago). Here goes...

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I've been contemplating Harry's scar -- not just recently, but for the past couple of years, as I've read and re-read the HP books. I've been struck many times by the fact that, whatever else it may symbolize and however it functions, Harry's lightning-bolt scar could be looked at as an echo of Christian baptism.

We know that Harry has been marked, practically from birth, by the reality of death. At the age of one, he is marked inwardly in the sense that he experiences the loss of both parents, and he is literally marked by Voldemort, whose killing curse directed at the young baby rebounds and almost mortally wounds the dark wizard instead, sending him into exile as a wraith awaiting a comeback when Harry is older. Harry will carry the lightning bolt scar of this encounter for the rest of his life, a scar that continues to cause him physical and mental anguish as Voldemort plots his return to power.

I find it interesting that JKR chose to place this important symbolic mark on Harry’s forehead. In most historic Christian traditions, the forehead is marked with the sign of the cross at baptism (showing one is sealed by the Holy Spirit and marked as Christ’s own) and then annually marked with the sign of the cross in ashes at the beginning of each Lent, to remind of one’s fragile mortality. The sign of the cross, a symbol of great power and love, given as blessing, is very different of course from the unintended sign “given” to Harry by the curse of the evil Voldemort, but they seem to share some connections.

We are so used to the cross as a symbol of suffering love and ultimate victory that we forget it too was originally a symbol of great fear and death, a sign of one of the worst methods of killing the Roman empire could devise. A sign of shame intended to cause fear and pain in those who saw it was ultimately turned inside out and redeemed by Jesus, who took on fragile, mortal flesh and redeemed humanity through his sacrifice. Thus we can take this sign now as one of hope because of His great love for us.

Could we not say that in JKR's fictional world, Harry’s scar is both a painful reminder of the power of evil and death and their ability to wound us, and the sign to his community that there is still hope that evil can be overcome? (Recall the early Ron's fascination with and admiration of Harry's scar, and Scrimgeour's blunt and offensive but nonetheless partially true idea that the wizarding community is in need of hope that someone might be destined to defeat Voldemort.)

It is interesting to note that Harry, marked and scarred by sin and death, and still vulnerable to their powers, is NOT marked with the mark of evil’s choosing – if Voldemort had planned to give him a scar, he would undoubtedly have used the “dark mark” associated with his reign of terror, the skull and crossbones that he usually leaves as a calling card for his murders. Instead, Harry is marked with a lightning bolt – a complex symbol that could in turn be read in two ways. Lightning can be sudden and violent, and it can cause fiery devastation, but it can also be beautiful, a power harnessed for good. It is, after all, a symbol of light – jagged, painful light, yes, but light nonetheless, that tears the darkness asunder.

JKR certainly shows the terrible sense of lightning when she references the "lightning struck tower" in HBP as a sign of calamity. However, outside of HP, there are ways in which lightning can be thought of in positive ways, such as "lightning doesn't strike twice" to connote that one doesn't expect to come across good fortune more than once.

I know of course that the lightning-bolt scar, Harry's "baptism by fire" into the reality of death, if you will, is not Harry's actual baptism. I've written elsewhere about some of the ways in which I think JKR has showed us parallels to Christian initiation in Harry's life. And interestingly, JKR has also let us know that Harry has been christened -- he has a godfather (and she confirmed the fact of the christening in an interview) -- which is one of the few instances I can recall of any reference to the actual church within the HP series. It's also interesting (and perhaps significant?) that she would bother to have him christened, as I understand that is not necessarily a given in the strongly secular UK these days. I find myself grateful to know this fact about Harry, glad to think that he was marked in actual baptism before he was marked by the killing curse at story's beginning.

Are there ways in which we can view Harry's scar as a sign of hope and healing, and not just devastation and death? I think so. What Voldemort meant for evil has, in some deep Providential sense, been turned to Harry's (and his community's) good.

Sometimes scars make us stronger. And sometimes we need the sobering reminder how precious and costly our lives are.

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Harry's Really Not So Bad...

I came upon this poem I wrote a few months ago, probably after reading some article or another talking about how good Christian parents should keep their kids away from Harry Potter. I've read many such articles over the years, and I confess I've found them a bit distressing, since I consider myself both a devoted Christian and a huge Harry Potter fan. It's nice to know there are many others out there who find Harry to not only not be anti-Christian, but to be richly steeped in Christian ideals and a springboard for all sorts of thoughtful discussion. Anyway, here's my little "be nice to Harry" rant...

In Defense of Harry

I'm never sure how to respond
When I hear people denigrate Harry.
They've been blasting him since
Long before Half-Blood Prince
And warning parents to be wary.

This boy with a broom and a wand
Has caused such an unholy commotion,
And some people think
He leads kids to the brink
Away from good Christian devotion.

For "witch" is a word that is cursed
By the pious and God-fearing masses
Who aren't sure if they should
Even look for the good
In a book touting wizarding classes.

But I ponder which message is worse:
That the boy with the scar must be hated
Or that in stories of
Moral fiber and love,
Some magic should be tolerated.

I don't have to wonder for long.
My thoughts on this couldn't be clearer
If they leaped from the haze
As I patiently gazed
With intent into Erised's mirror.

It is possible that I am wrong,
But whenever I sift through the noise,
I am sure God is love
And that He is above
Flinging lightning bolts at orphan boys.

Echoes from the Chamber

Ounce for ounce, pound for pound, I think Chamber of Secrets may be the best book in the series so far.

Let me explain. I love them all, of course, and enjoy re-reading each one of them for different reasons. I have sentimental feelings about Sorcerer's Stone because it's the first book and introduces us to Harry's world; I still shiver whenever we get anywhere near the denouement of Prisoner of Azkaban because the strongest, most-long-lasting emotional/spiritual image for me in the entire series is Prongs; I admire the complexity of the plot of Goblet of Fire and think the graveyard scene remains the most harrowing scene in the series, with the shades of Harry's parents running a close second to Prongs for emotional impact for me. I think the dance of despair and life-giving humor in Order of the Phoenix is very well done, and necessary, and I have a special feeling for that book because I think it will always be the most misunderstood. And when it comes to Half-Blood Prince, I am in awe of the mysterious, brilliant finish that sets us up so well for the finale.

But Chamber of Secrets, of all the books, just feels like the best-told story in and of itself. If there had never been another book, yes, I would have had millions of questions, but I think I still would have been satisfied in some odd way with this story all by itself. It's got some of the funniest scenes and moments in the series (singing Valentines! flying Ford Anglia! Moaning Myrtle! Gilderoy Lockhart's pictures in hairnets! The headless hunt!) and some of the sweetest and most powerful moments at deep symbolic levels (Fawkes; the sorting hat; Gryffindor's sword).

But although I think this is possibly the most tightly-written and best told story of the bunch, I'm glad it wasn't a stand-alone. I think it packs such a wallop for most of us now because of all we know that comes after it. The foreshadowings and echoes are so thick in Chamber of Secrets, you can practically cut them with a butterknife. (You know, the one next to the butterdish that Ginny Weasley sticks her elbow in.)

I was lying sick in bed this afternoon while reading the finale. It's so well-done that it still leaves me a bit breathless even when I know what's coming. But in addition to just enjoying the ride ("Amazing! This is just like magic!") I found myself noting several places that felt extra-heavy with meaning because of the unfolding of later events.

Just a few things I noticed:

"Ginny -- don't be dead -- please don't be dead -- " He flung his wand aside, grabbed Ginny's shoulders, and turned her over." ("The Heir of Slytherin," p. 389)

Beyond the obvious here -- that Harry will one day fall in love with Ginny and come to feel even more protective about her life -- what I found dripping with meaning and hope in this line was "He flung his wand aside..."

It had never struck me before with such force how foolish and dear Harry can be, especially at this stage of the game. He is completely vulnerable. He doesn't know Tom Riddle is down there, I know, and doesn't even suspect him once he first sees him. He cares less about keeping up his guard, even in a very dangerous situation fraught with peril, than he does about caring for the wounded girl lying at his feet. I love his character for just this reason. And I think the flinging of the wand here is in some ways a foreshadowing of what's to come. We know Harry can't best Riddle/Voldemort with a wand in the end. We know that he has to defeat him, somehow, with love. This is Harry, open and vulnerable and loving. Despite the fact that he does what looks foolish and surrenders his wand (Riddle spends the next few minutes taunting him with it and rolling it in his fingers while he explains to Harry who he is; he even uses Harry's wand to write his name in the air, so chilling!) it is Harry who emerges victorious in the chamber.

And then there's this:

"Now, Harry, I'm going to teach you a little lesson. Let's match the powers of Lord Voldemort, Heir of Salazar Slytherin, against famous Harry Potter, and the best weapons Dumbledore can give him..." (p. 402)

Shivers. What have we been seeing in the past four books since CoS? Dumbledore, arming Harry with the "best weapons" he can give him...knowledge of the enemy, yes, but more than that, wisdom, humility, vulnerability, the joy of being human, LOVE.

A few paragraphs earlier, Riddle had derided the "weapons" or one might more accurately say "gifts" sent by Dumbledore: Riddle began to laugh again. He laughed so hard that the dark chamber rang with it, as though ten Riddles were laughing at once -- "This is what Dumbledore sends his defender! A songbird and an old hat! Do you feel brave, Harry Potter? Do you feel safe now?" (p. 400)

And oddly enough, Harry feels his courage mounting, even though he can't immediately see the use of the gifts. I love how the gifts are disguised, and look so "foolish to the wise" (who really aren't as wise as they think). I also got some shivers over the "ten Riddles" comment. Such a throwaway little moment, and yet when you begin to consider the "split soul" or split personality of Riddle as we've come to understand it, not so throwaway after all.

Riddle is revealed as the liar he really is throughout this scene, perhaps nowhere more powerfully as when he taunts the wounded Harry, whom he believes is dying. (He doesn't yet realize that Fawkes' pearly tears have the power to heal even a mortal wound like this one.) "So ends the famous Harry Potter...Alone in the Chamber of Secrets, forsaken by his friends..." (p. 407)

But if there is one thing Harry is not in this moment, it's forsaken. Fawkes crying on his wound is the evidence of that, and the evidence of grace and resurrection. Harry's not deserted and never has been, not even the night his parents died. Perhaps one reason Riddle harps on desertion so much is because he himself understands it at a deep soul level.

I can't wait to read the end of Deathly Hallows and find all the echoes there that were first planted here in Chamber of Secrets. I think there will be far more than we expect.

Dumbledore's Socks

One of my very favorite little moments in the entire Harry Potter series occurs at the tail end of The Mirror of Erised. Of course, that entire chapter is fantastic: Harry's first actually enjoyable Christmas, our introduction to Christmas in the wizarding world, the grand debut of the invisibility cloak, and Harry's haunting encounters with the titular mirror. But I just love that little nugget at the end, on page 214, when Harry asks Dumbledore what he sees when he looks into the mirror.

"I? I see myself holding a pair of thick, woolen socks."
Harry stared.
"One can never have enough socks," said Dumbledore. "Another Christmas has come and gone and I didn't get a single pair. People will insist on giving me books."

I love it first because it so gently and beautifully eases Harry - and us - out of an incredibly solemn, melancholy moment. It breaks the tension, leaving Harry puzzling over Dumbledore's curious response as he goes to bed rather than brooding over the desire to see his parents once more. (Incidentally, there was an episode of Smallville that reminds me a lot of this chapter, in which Lana - orphaned at the age of three when her parents were killed by the meteor shower accompanying Clark's arrival - takes drugs that cause her to flat-line for a couple moments at a time, in the hopes of seeing her parents again, nearly leading to her complete self-destruction.) It allows the chapter to end much less drearily than it could have, since this is a vision Harry craves so deepy.

Second, it's such a ridiculous image, this ancient, highly respected wizard standing forlornly amidst a pile of freshly unwrapped books, tut-tutting to himself that he's going to have to put up with cold feet for another January. It's silly because socks are the stereotypical gift that no one wants to get for Christmas, and Dumbledore certainly shouldn't need anyone to get socks for him; I'm sure he can afford as many as his heart desires. 2

But third, while I think this was partly just a way to lighten the atmosphere, I do think there is truth in what he says. Dumbledore is viewed by everyone, even McGonagall, as just a bit unapproachable. He's marvelously down-to-earth, but he's so highly regarded that it's hard for people to think of him as a regular guy who is plagued and comforted by the same things they are, and I think sometimes he'd rather be just plain Albus instead of high-and-mighty Professor Dumbledore. I think he shows that again on 301 when he samples Harry's Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans. He's not too good for the simple things in life. He wants Harry to realize that, noble, wise and wonderful as he is, he puts his socks on one leg at a time like everybody else.

Muggle-baiting

"All I got were a few shrinking door keys..." yawned Mr. Weasley....

"Why would anyone bother making door keys shrink?" said George.

"Just Muggle-baiting," sighed Mr. Weasley. "Sell them a key that keeps shrinking to nothing so they can never find it when they need it...Of course, it's very hard to convict anyone because no Muggle would admit their key keeps shrinking -- they'll insist they just keep losing it. Bless them, they'll go to any lengths to ignore magic, even if it's staring them in the face..."

(Chamber of Secrets, Chapter 3, "The Burrow," p. 48)

So I've finally figured out why I keep losing my library card. Twice in the past two weeks, I've been sure that I've known exactly where it was, only to have to hunt madly for it and end up finding it somewhere else. I've decided I prefer the magic reason to the other possible reason, which is simply that I'm getting older and losing my memory. :-) Much more fun to assume that one or more of the librarians at the little library down the road actually hails from the wizarding world and has an offbeat sense of humor. I have my guesses as to which one(s) it might be!

The Significance of Lily's Name

This morning I had a few more minutes to read in Sorcerer's Stone and got up to the chapter with the "Mirror of Erised." I always find the moment when Harry first realizes he can see his long-dead family in the glass to be very moving. The hunger with which he stares at their images, and how we come to find out that the mirror shows nothing more, nothing less than the deepest desires and longings of one's heart -- I still get a bit choked up even though I've read the scene countless times.

So I had that image in the back of my mind as I worked this morning. And one of the things I had to do at the office today was compile a list of people in our congregation who bought Easter lilies in honor or memory of loved ones, to beautify the church sanctuary this coming Sunday.

I got to thinking about the significance of Easter Lilies -- why we decorate with them on Easter, and what they mean -- innocence, purity, resurrection, remembrance -- and it suddenly dawned on me that JKR, who chooses her character's names oh so wisely, did not pick Lily accidentally. That's probably a "duh" kind of moment, but I still thought I'd share it.

I did a bit of google research to find out more about the Easter Lily tradition. Purity, virtue, life, hope -- those are some of the other words I found associated with the lily, besides the ones I already mentioned. There's also an old tradition that says lilies sprang up and bloomed in the Garden of Gethsamene from the drops of blood that Jesus sweated during his night of agony.

Interestingly, lilies also have significance in non-Christian legends and fables. In Greek mythology, apparently the milk-white lilies are associated with milk from Juno's breasts, hence with motherhood. The lilies were supposed to spring up from droplets of milk (although some of the milk also formed clusters of stars -- hence the name of our galaxy, the Milky Way).

The lily also has a long association with the Virgin Mary. Think of all the annunciation pictures where Mary is holding a lily!

I got most of this, by the way, from the following website: http://www.appleseeds.org/easter-lily.htm


I find all of this very apt for the character of Lily Potter. A loving, courageous mother who sacrifices herself at great cost for the life of her infant son. A woman whose blood plants, if you will, seeds of hope and life. It's her blood flowing in Harry's veins that grants him protection from evil while he is a child. One wonders if that blood, and the life-giving act that shaped him so profoundly before he could even consciously remember, is not what has kept Harry "pure in heart," open and vulnerable to keep loving even in the fact of great suffering. It's that purity, that love, that vulnerability, Dumbledore insists, that are Harry's chief weapons in the war against evil.

And isn't it interesting that Dumbledore himself, Harry's protector and mentor and one of the people who becomes a de-facto parent for Harry when the boy is orphaned, is named Albus? Albus, which means "white." I know the alchemical imagery is an important factor in his name, but it strikes me that it also gives him a deep kinship with Lily.

Now what we're to make of the name Petunia, I'm not sure. It's a much more common, garden variety flower, true...I did a quick look-up of "flower meanings" and discovered that Petunia is associated with anger and resentment. Though apparently sending petunias to someone can indicate to them that you find their presence soothing or calming. Hmm...

Dear Harry

My dear Harry,
I hope you don't mind if I drop you a note from time to time over the next few months. You see, while I'm awaiting the final installment of your saga, I'm re-reading the first six books. And the more I read, the more I find myself wishing I could impart a few well-chosen words of advice. I'm not as old nor as wise as Dumbledore (in fact, I'm probably closest in age to Molly Weasley...and yes, I'm a Mom) but I can't shake the feeling that you need all the help you can get.

I just finished reading the chapter in Sorcerer's Stone where you and Ron knock out the 12-foot mountain troll that you accidentally locked in the girl's bathroom where Hermione was crying. I have always loved the action in this chapter for the way it began to cement the bonds of friendship between you, Ron and Hermione. And that's my first word of advice to you this evening: remember them. Be grateful for them. And let them help you.

I know from the end of Half-Blood Prince that you already feel grateful beyond words for their offer to go with you on your horcrux hunt. But there's a tiny bit of me that's worried you'll think twice about their offer and try to talk them out of it. Don't. It won't do a bit of good, because they'll just come anyway. Have you noticed how stubborn they both are? And how much they love you? A guy never had better friends, Harry, and you need your friends now.

Notice too, how their skills complement your's. You would never have gotten through many of the things you've had to do over the years without Ron and Hermione. Ron may act a bit daft at times, but when it comes to courage, the well runs deep in that boy (and in his whole family). He's also pretty good at thinking on his feet. Hermione's encyclopedic knowledge and incredible memory are also traits you're going to need. Frankly, you don't have much time to be looking things up in the Hogwarts library anymore...but with Hermione around, you won't need to. She's spent the last six years absorbing it all.

My second bit of advice: Don't judge a book by its cover. I could mean that literally, you know... you've had plenty of practice in mis-judging books. Tom Riddle's diary and the Half-Blood Prince's potions book both leap to mind. But in this case, I'm talking about people. I think you have become a fairly good judge of character over the years, but you've always tended to make snap judgments and to stick by some of your understandings or impressions of who people are -- sometimes longer than merited. You've got to let yourself look deeper than surface impressions. Remember how Neville just looked like a forgetful, scaredy-cat at the beginning? He's turned out to have the courage of a lion -- there's a reason he got put into Griffyndor! (You're going to need Neville!!!) Remember how looney and dreamy Luna seemed? Recall that she outlasted almost everyone in the battle at the DoM, and that her compassion shows acute understanding of the needs and feelings of others.

I'm heartened by your growing sense of pity (if not downright empathy) for your schoolboy nemesis, Draco Malfoy. Even Malfoy can change, Harry. Remember how he wavered and lowered his wand on the tower with Dumbledore? Don't underestimate the possibility that even some of the people you've thought of as enemies may turn out, in the end, to want to help you fight your much larger enemy. That's all I'll say about that -- for the moment.

If love is the power you have that Tom doesn't -- and I'd take Dumbledore's word to the bank on that one -- then look around and see who loves you. Lean on those folks, and don't underestimate their desire to help you in your darkest hour. You need them, not only the strength of their love, but their accumulated grit and wisdom and humor and stubbornness.