Video Transcript
Edmund: Do you remember that classic film ending, where the music plays and the final words “The End” come up on the screen? But this is more than just a practical announcement, it carries symbolic weight. When the guy finally kisses the girl and they ride off together into the sunset, we all know that “The End” doesn’t mean “the end” for this couple in the movie.
Many of the great storytellers across film, books, and television knew that a good story echoes forward. J. R. R. Tolkien made this point clearly in his essay about his theory of literary stories called “On Fairy-Stories”.
He says: “I was there led to the view that eucatastrophe produces joy at the turn of a Happy Ending because it is a sudden glimpse of Truth, your whole nature chained in material cause and effect, the chain of death, feels a sudden relief as if a major limb out of joint had suddenly snapped back.”
Tolkien is here describing “eucatastrophe,” a term he coined as the opposite of the Greek concept of “catastrophe.” It’s not merely the opposite of an unhappy ending, it’s a surprising shift from despair to salvation.
But as happy as we are with a happy ending, we also don’t want it to end. In the book Finite and Infinite Games, James P. Carse presents the concept that stories are deeply connected to the concept of infinite play. James Carse says that everything in life is a game.
In finite games, the purpose of the game is to win, like in basketball or chess. But if you’re playing an infinite game, the purpose of the game is to keep playing. Carse argues that relationships, or striving for excellence within a skill, or striving to be the “greatest” at something… these are infinite games.
And a key idea is that while finite games are about winning, infinite games are about becoming. A story is not simply a way of relating an event; it’s a way of seeing the world. Carse argues that stories are not meant to conclude or close things off. Unlike finite games that aim for closure, a good story invites more reflection, interpretation, or even new stories. They’re inherently open-ended.
We live our lives inside stories. They’re not just narratives we tell, but spaces we inhabit. And that means that the stories we hear invite us to respond.
When “The End” appears on screen after the joyful twist, what these stories really do is invite us to think back to the beginning. To remember how far we’ve come, and to imagine what happens next. It’s like we’re being asked “Will you, too, go start a new life, changed by the lessons we’ve learned along this journey?”
Tolkien said in the same essay on stories that Jesus’ life, death, and Resurrection is the greatest eucatastrophic story ever told. And Lord’s Prayer—in a way—is a summary of the great story of the relationship of God and man. And at the end, we say “Amen.” But “Amen” doesn’t just acknowledge the prayer is over, it means “I agree, and let it be so.” In a way, we are saying “I agree, and let it begin. Let it begin again with my life.”
So what story are you a part of, and what story do you believe in? And does it have a happy ending, or a sad ending? Or, are you part of a story that believes endings are really new, transformative beginnings, inviting us to respond?
