Of Prayers and Churches
I’ve always wondered how churches and religions worked in Narnia, especially because the Pevensies were coming from a place where religion was a highly contested issue and Christianity was still fairly traditional. I know that Calormen has temples to Tash (or maybe that’s just a headcanon some writers have), so I thought that some place to pray in Narnia wasn’t a far off idea. I especially like the idea of Susan being the one to bring up the idea of a church, being as she is so focused on the logic and practicality of life; thus, it makes the most sense for me to have her want a church, to have a physical place to be reminded of your faith. This is also why I believe Edmund will also support her, unlike Peter and Lucy, who see no need for a physical reminder of Aslan. Hope you enjoy this!
The first Sunday after the battle at Beruna, Susan Pevensie woke up—as she always did—at dawn before she realized she had nowhere to be. She had gone over to her armoire and began looking through her jewelry box, filled with the few baubles she had been gifted in the past week. Back home, in England, she kept her cross in a tin box by her bedside table; of course, she was in Narnia now, and there was no tin box and, thus, no cross.
When she realized there would be no Sunday mass because, well, there was no church, Susan sat back down on her bed in her white nightgown. She was still a Christian even if it was war time; her mother made her and her siblings go every Sunday. Even though she wasn’t in England anymore, that didn’t mean she had to give up her faith. But, of course, there were no priests here and no churches and no communion and no mass.
So, she decided she would have her own private prayer, even if it did feel a little strange to miss Sunday mass, and knelt by her bed and began to pray. However, she hit another obstacle. Susan believed in God, as all boys and girls do: in the way that you believed in Santa because you didn’t understand faith and religion and the universe. Of course, she was no ordinary girl; while she still had no understanding of how the universe worked—she did travel to a new world a mere week before—she knew that it was far more complex than adults made it out to be, and certainly much different than the priests at church said it was. By this point, all she knew was that there was Aslan; God, like Santa, felt like a fairy tale to her, but Aslan seemed to be more than magic, more than everything really. He radiated power and love and life, as if he is the only thing that ever will be. So, because she felt more comfortable praying to Aslan than she did God, that is exactly what she did.