Reader beware

Recently I have taken to quoting a little from Francis Burnett's The Secret Garden as I am very much in the thrall of spring fever and looking forward to working my own, 'bit of earth,' but I was a bit surprised as I picked up the book again and read it through for the first time in twenty plus years.  I must admit I had not remembered much of the story from my 'wee girlhood,' but I remember liking it, especially the idea of a secret garden and a strange, old house and the descriptions of the English moors, but I was a little disturbed as an adult to discover that was not all it contained.  I am very fond of some of Burnett's other works, including Little Lord Fauntleroy and A Little Princess, but alas I cannot include The Secret Garden among my literary treasures.  I scanned through the introduction to my copy and saw something mentioned about theosophism and its beautiful portrayal in this particular work, but paid it little heed…oops!  There is a scene where the children march around the garden, calling upon 'the magic' to make the garden grow, heal body and soul, etc. like a band of ancient pantheists and later on we learn that 'Father, Son, and Holy Ghost,' are just other names among many names for 'the magic' or 'the Good Thing' or 'the god within,' or whatever you wish to call it.  

Ms. Burnett is certainly free to write as she feels she ought and believe whatever she prefers and we, as her readers, may choose to read her books or not, and agree with her or not.  I am just as guilty in my writings as she in this matter, it is just that we believe quite different things.  It was just a bit of a shock to discover this worldview in a book I had read as a child and apparently just thought it a bit of childish nonsense on the part of the characters in the book and thus forgot all about it, and never encountering such a scene in her other works, it also caught me off guard.  Besides for the jaunt into the esoteric, I also found the story as a whole to be less captivating than her other works.  It is always a sad day for me when I find some beloved treasure of my youth has lost much of its luster when I see it anew as an adult, but that is the price of wisdom I suppose.  But then, it is a happy day when I realize not all of my childhood favorites are actually dross; some of them are still truly dear and I have discovered other treasures I never knew in my youth but have discovered in my 'declining' years.  The same can be said for our spiritual and moral development as well, what we loved as children and rambunctious youths later becomes 'silly,' 'stupid,' or downright 'scandalous,' when viewed from our later years.  I know my own son often wonders why he cannot do certain things that would be quite thrilling and is quite distressed to learn that he cannot quite do as he pleases.  

So to all my dear readers (if I have any), let this be my apology to you in recommending what I thought was a charming read from my youth but which turns out to be rather disappointing.  Of course, if you want a nifty little story and an exercise in comparative theology, it is still worth a quick read.  But the 'magic' of the children in the garden cannot bear the names of the Trinity for as we are reminded in Acts (4:12): 'And there is salvation in no one else, for there is no other name under heaven given among men by which we must be saved.'  There is magic in a garden in spring, there is magic in a healthy child, but it is not a thing in itself to be called upon and worshipped like the old gods of wood and field.  It is the very magic of creation, a gift of life from He who called the worlds into being and Who keeps them spinning.  It might be His voice and breath that gives us shape and life and being, but we are not gods nor is the essence of the gods found in all things.  We must look to the Creator rather than worship the created.  It is a nice little story but for theological confusion.