I’ve often wondered how a celibate priest like the late Andrew Greeley could describe both the sensuality and the passion of love so profoundly. The Magic Cup is a retelling of the Grail legend that touches both Irish and Christian sensibilities. And, as the Grail legend inevitably involves a romance component, it was necessary for Greeley to be able to navigate the torpid waters of desire, lust, sensuality, and even discipline in the service of love.
In The Magic Cup, the protagonist is the future high king of Ireland (the Tanaise, the designated successor to the current Ardri or high king) and he seems fated to relive an earlier legend in order to wrest control from the pagan lover of his allegedly Christian father.
As a result, the story unfolds as an allegory of the Christianizing (if you will) of Ireland and the Grail proves (as it often does in Grail legends—including the Indiana Jones version) not to be quite what you expect it to be. Greely walked a narrow path between syncretism, acceptance of ambiguity, and cognitive dissonance as he unveiled the narrative. It is, as so much of his work, masterful.
The symbol of the pagan tradition is Finnabair while Cormac (the Tanaise) claims to be a follower of King Jesus. The pivotal character in the story is more Brigid (nicknamed “Biddy”) in the story, a pagan slave girl who is devoted to the future king and provides the dialogue which challenges and refines Cormac’s Christianity. Knowing Greeley’s background, one knows how he will weave the final draft, but the conclusion has a very appropriate point that both isn’t and is orthodox. Greeley’s perspective is, as always, refreshing even as it is affirming. He demonstrates beautifully how our personal weaknesses and free will can still cause us to enter the cycle of fate—not because life is predetermined but because we accommodate that which we believe to be fate.
There were three simple lines that resonated with me. The first was on storytelling. “Indeed, wise old man, the hero must always suffer; otherwise, why would there be stories?” (p. 77) Why, indeed? If there were no suffering, if there was no obstacle, how would stories encourage us in difficult times and inspire us to great times? The sentiment may be idealistic, but I sense a veracity in that simple bit of conversation. The second sounds almost “eastern” in its philosophy, but it rings true in western thought as well. Cormac offers a prophecy which may be “obvious” but is too often ignored. “You will find what you seek when you find that which is what you seek.” (p. 120) Certainly, we need to put our eyes on the goal before we can really accomplish what we really want to accomplish. Yeah, it seems so “motivational speaker”-speak, but it’s good advice. The third was obvious, but demonstrated throughout the book, “…mercy is harder than hatred.” (p. 278) I think King Jesus would approve.
In fact, though I didn’t feel like this novel was as well-placed as other novels I’ve read from Greeley, I think King Jesus would wholeheartedly approve of this—much as I believe King Jesus approves of the work of C. S. Lewis, J. R. R. Tolkien, George MacDonald, and Charles Williams. You don’t have to be a believer in Christ to enjoy this story, but I believe that those who have a relationship with Jesus will enjoy it the most.