In Defense of the Myth: Why Not All Stories Must Be False

“Fairy tales are more than true — not because they tell us dragons exist, but because they tell us dragons can be beaten.”--G.K Chesterton

It is a common presumption that if a thing is mythical, then it must not be true (or, depending on the case, real). This is perpetuated perhaps in part by the belief, held genuinely if a bit stubbornly by rows upon rows of academic scholars who keep their heads up in the sky, surrounded by miles of thick, impenetrable cloud, that everything from the pagan days of old must, by definition, be false.

It is unknown whether that is because of an earnest genuine belief or a desire to be seen as highly intellectual on all of these sorts of matters, but either way it is an assurance for a deprivation of wonderful stories.

The reason I find it fitting to start off on the matter of what the modern world calls a 'myth', namely those things which were often perpetuated by the Romans or the Greeks, or, more recently, the Norse and Saxons, is because they are, though in a pagan settings and characters, not without virtue of their own. This virtue is nevertheless often overlooked, perhaps because the alien idea of polytheistic gods more similar to man than to a god is off-putting to those poor souls who, although earnest, are quite convinced that things only began to have meaning since the 1960s.

A lack of appreciation for history, I often find, is usually connected to a lack of appreciation for myth and fairy-story. This world-view is a very sad one, because what does one have without history or myth? Just the present, I'm afraid; and the present is so awfully gloomy that there's not much to look forward to, and (in this view) nothing to look back to, and just a puddle of grey milky liquid in the middle.

To understand why there are remnants of truth even in the most obscure and random of tales, we must look at the tale not so much as an idea, but as a product of Creation, and therefore at its creator.

In this case, the creator is a man, and man, being mortal and utterly fallible, is inclined to make mistakes of epic and unbelievably stupid proportions. This is, of course, why the myths themselves are flawed—because their creator is.

It is within man's nature to create, much like man's own Creator. The innovations of today, such as Internet, telephone, computers and various other things are all creations of man.

Technological advancement is nothing more than another way of saying that man has not only created, but done something seemingly useful with it. Similarly, any poem, song or book is a creation, regardless of whether it is fiction (a detestable word) or non-fiction.

But man, though maintaining the capacity for heroism, is so easily corrupted, and so often does he use his powers of creation for ill. These, although abundant in our current age, will likely not live very long except in the minds of those who harbor such thoughts anyway, and so it doesn't make a difference one way or another. It is only the works of genuine good, teaching as full a truth as possible, that will survive the years.

Then, it is plain, a myth cannot be a bad thing in itself. Still there are trolls in the world, inasmuch as there are fairies and kings and queens, and many of these trolls maintain that in the backward age of that smelly Greece-place with their superstitious pagan rituals nothing good can possibly be drawn from it.

Even the most blatantly lying of novels must still contain a grain of truth, else it couldn't exist. Even a particular novel which I loath for its moral ambiguity must still admit, due to the nature of the thing, that good and evil exist, and therein lies a single grain of truth. Yet another novel may deny good and evil, but it must still contain people, and because the battle between good and evil are so inherent in our very nature, then it must contain that small speck of truth.

One perhaps wouldn't look for advice in the Greek myths on how to run a family, for instance (Zeus and Hera are likely not the most wonderful examples). But again, because a myth is created by a mere man, it must have the fallibilities of man. We may still learn many things from the myths, and the inherent truth therein—one may gather that there is good and evil, and there is a war to be fought, and there is heroism even in the seemingly darkest of times.

Man is not daft enough to see Hermes steal his brother's sheep to suppose that he, too, should go steal his brother's sheep—but man is intelligent enough to recognize that when Hermes gives his brother his lyre in exchange for the sheep, it is made fair.

The Greeks, being an intelligent sort, were able to recognize that although they did not know everything (one thing that modern society certainly does not yet realize!) there is worth in what they would care to take down. Although their myths are certainly not perfect, they are of intrinsic value to the hearts and minds of men throughout all ages, for from them we may take countless moral and social lessons.

Myths are God speaking through Poets; the Bible is God speaking through Prophets.
Man has, throughout all years, been able to grasp hints and shards of the Eternal Truths, but being perceived through Man's senses they cannot be set down quite as they ought. But even in the most corrupt and grotesquely formed of societies (such as the Aztecs), there are hints among their mythology of a greater Truth, as we may see from Quetzalcoatl, who opposed human sacrifice. He was forced, by their other gods as the legend goes, to leave, and went across the Sea, promising to return in their darkest hour to save them from destruction.

Before the Dawn of Christianity, the pagan societies often enough had brilliant minds who saw clearly that there was something beyond this world, but unable to perceive it in anything other than human terms, they set down their gods in the form of men, instead of in the form of God.
It was in this way that the mind of Men coupled two instincts; the instinctive knowledge that there is a world beyond this one, and the instinct to create for himself. It was in this way that pagan mythologies were born, but until the birth of Christ, all mythologies had one deep flaw.
This flaw lay in the fact that until the birth of Jesus Christ, all myths had previously been false. The Birth, Life, Death and Resurrection of Christ had two incredible advantages; one, because it satisfies man's inclination for something fantastic by being a story, and two, it satisfies man's desire for truth because it happens to be a True story.

Prophecies were fulfilled in the birth of Christ our Lord, but myths, too, were fulfilled, or more specifically they were perfected. At last the story had reached its utmost perfection; with a hero flawless and lovable and tragic and wonderful, the kind that you want to run up to and embrace and never let go, even as you dread the impending death of the hero, for you know that before long the tragedy will overcome the story and take the hero from those who love Him. But that, too, is but a fleeting, passing thing, a shadow that is dissipated by a single candle, for the Resurrection breaks through the chains that Death inflicts, and light continues on. The hero is given back to the world, and at last returns to His throne, recognized at last by some of His people as the King that He is.

The story goes on, though; it lives yet in every action that goes on. The Bible shall not have any new chapters, but we live in another book entirely. The age of Poets has passed, the age of Prophets has long ended, but we live in another Age entirely, under the reign of our most beloved King. But all fairy-stories have dragons, and our Kingdom is under siege.

But among the things we may learn from fairy-stories is that evil never conquers, not forever; they may win a battle, but they have already lost the war. Darkness cannot conquer forever, and though it seems so terrifying, it can be broken by a single candle.

These themes throughout our fairy-stories, written both long ago and recently, give us hope in the midst of all the strife and the battles that overtake our world daily. For some it seems a difficult and painful thing to believe the fantastic nature of the Truth, because specifically that—it seems too much like a story! One must wonder if perhaps these men and women had been given more fairy-stories as children and taught to appreciate the Great and Mystical, perhaps they would not have as much trouble with the Truth now.

There is no preparation for the Ultimate Truth of Things, which most of us are taught (or should be taught) in full around the Age of Reason, like a fairy-story. A love of a story, no matter how small the child, ingrains a love of the fantastic and mystical within the fiber of their being. Then, when they are taught of the Full Truth, they have already heard of the sort before, and find themselves in love with it all the more, for it is not only a story, but a true story, and a true story is always the best of all.

Some often speak of fairy-stories in a condescending tone, usually with their noses tipped upward and their eyes looking down upon all around them, and one must wonder if they would like to sit on a pedestal and accept burnt offerings, and refer to fairy-stories as escapist. This I find odd, for we regard escape as a good thing. A prisoner, for instance, is heartily encouraged to escape from his captors, and we would think him quite daft if he didn't try. Our world, as it is, or rather what we (wrongly) call reality, is drenched in the blood of innocents, coated in lies and filled with dubious beings who care nothing for anyone and wish to exterminate any they dislike. The truth is that no one tries to escape something which is not bad, and so escaping the filth of this world is admirable (which we may point out in “Be in the world, not of the world”).

If a man is in prison, and wishes to go home, then we do not blame him. But if he cannot go home, and must be in prison, who are we to suppose he should think of only prisons and jail-cells and wardens? It is the height of absurdity to suppose that we should keep him from thinking of his friends and family and what his daughter did in school today. Similarly, within this world, though we cannot leave it at a whim, we certainly can allow our minds to go to a better sort. If, indeed, escape is always freedom, and so if we value freedom of the mind, then we ought to encourage fairy-stories by all means, for indeed it does free, and we should get together the rest of our prison-mates and talk about the outside world all together!

What we acknowledge often as 'reality' is little more than a confined section in which we are supposed to be brought into at all times. In this confinement we are not allowed to suppose anything supernatural may go on, and we can only accredit the wonders of the universe to a random convergence of cells or whatnot, and we will surely be shot dead if we say that we believe in a God that is loving. If we let our minds dwell in this 'reality' too long we will surely be confined for life.