I can't believe it's been a month since my last entry! But now I'm back and hope to be more faithful; I'm pretty much caught up with grading, so I should be OK until I get my next set of exams!
I finished reading Fern-seed and will just comment on it briefly; I promised a student I'd give it to her this evening.
The book contains these lectures/papers:
1. Membership
2. Learning in War-time
3. On Forgiveness
4. Historicism
5. The World's Last Night
6. Religion and Rocketry
7. The Efficacy of Prayer
8. Fern-seed and Elephants
For our class, which read CSL's cosmic trilogy, I thought "Membership" and "Religion and Rocketry" would perhaps be most helpful. In "R&R" I found two things interesting. First, we get a glimpse of Lewis's imagination and his delight in thinking about faith in light of fantasy. He speculates that since the Incarnation took place on Earth, "It may be that Redemption, starting with us, is to work from us and through us" (91). This idea had been developed and articulated more fully in Perelandra. Having talked a bit about contact between humans and unknown races on other worlds, he says, "It sets one dreaming--to interchange thoughts with beings whose thinking had an organic background wholly different from ours, . . . to be unenviously humbled by intellects possibly superior to our own . . . , to descend lovingly ourselves if we met innocent and childlike creatures . . . , to exchange with the inhabitants of other worlds that especially keen and rich affection which exists between unlikes; it is a glorious dream. But," he says, "make no mistake. It is a dream. We are fallen" (91). This paper was published in 1958, about 15 years after the publication of That Hideous Strength; it seems Lewis' interest and delight in imaginary worlds and creatures had not abated.
Two other chapters I found especially interesting: "On Forgiveness" and "The Efficacy of Prayer." "On Forgiveness" was written in 1947; its main focus is in line with Charles Williams' The Forgiveness of Sins, which was published in 1942. It seems highly likely that the two friends, and perhaps others of the Inklings, had spent some time discussing the topic. Both reference the Lord's Prayer and conclude that if we don't forgive others, God will not forgive us. Lewis points out the difference between confessing our sins--to God and to others--and excusing our (or others) sins. "Real forgiveness," he says, "means looking steadily at the sin, the sin that is left over without any excuse, after all allowances have been made, and seeing it in all its horror, dirt, meanness and malice, and nevertheless being wholly reconciled to the man who has done it" (42). Both Lewis and Williams are very practical in their approach; Lewis admits that forgiving others, especially "to keep on forgiving," is very hard. He says the only way to accomplish this is "by remembering where we stand, by meaning our words when we say in our prayers each night 'Forgive us our trespasses as we forgive those that trespass against us.'"(43).
This is the kind of meaty advice that I so much appreciate from these authors. This is something I have to work at; it's been especially convicting reading these works during Lent--along with all the Lenten readings on Reconciliation. "The Efficacy of Prayer" has also been encouraging (?) during Lent. I'll give you a couple longish quotes--and not say much about it:
"Prayer is either a sheer illusion or a personal contact between embryonic, incomplete persons (ourselves) and the utterly concrete Person. Prayer in the sense of petition, asking for things, is a small part of it; confession and penitence are its threshold, adoration its sanctuary, the presence and vision and enjoyment of God its bread and wine. In it God shows himself to us." (101)
Prayer is, for Lewis, God's allowing us to participate in His work:
"It seems to involve at every moment almost a sort of divine abdication. We are not mere recipients or spectators. We are either privileged to share in the game or compelled to collaborate in the work, 'to wield our little tridents'. Is this amazing process simply Creation going on before our eyes? This is how (no light matter) God makes something--indeed, makes gods--out of nothing." (102)
Lastly Lewis encourages us against the frustrations of seemingly unanswered prayers.
This little essay has been a real encouragement for me to continue in prayer and to pray very deliberately; yet I find it a bit discouraging to realize how little strength I have to persevere in real prayer. Still God is Good and Merciful, and, as Lewis notes, He knows our frailty.
Monday, March 22, 2010
Friday, February 19, 2010
Fern-seed and Elephants . . .
I'm taking a brief break from The Narnian and reading CSL's Fern-seed and Elephants, and other essays on Christianity (ed. Walter Hooper). My students are looking for non-fiction to read after reading the trilogy; one has already started The Narnian, and I thought I'd look through a few other things to see if I can suggest something for them.
The first essay in this collection (which was published posthumously) is "Membership"; I thought maybe it would shed some light on Mark in THS, which I think it may. It's an interesting discussion, first read as a lecture in 1945. Its focus is the contrast between membership in the "collective" and "participation in the Body of Christ" (13). Lewis sets up a hierarchy: Body of Christ, "personal and private life," and "collective life" (13).
He references literature to provide examples; he mentions Charlotte Yonge, who has been on my list of authors I want to read -- maybe after I work my way through Dickens. He sees Rat, Mole, and Badger (in The Wind in the Willows) as symbolizing "the extreme differentiation of persons in harmonious union which we know intuitively to be our true refuge both from solitude and from the collective" (16). This is the function of the "mystical body" of Christ, the Church (15).
One sentence did remind me of themes in the trilogy, perhaps especially in THS: "Obedience is the road to freedom, humility the road to pleasure, unity the road to personality" (18). This seems to sum up the paths both Jane and Mark had to follow too find peace and fulfillment.
Lewis's medievalism and Platonism show up here in a privileging of hierarchy over equality, though he recognizes that "artificial equality is necessary in the life of the State"; he says, "in the church we strip off this disguise, we recover our real inequalities, and are thereby refreshed and quickened" (18). He seems in this essay to value humans only partially correctly; he says, "the value of the individual does not lie in him. He is capable of receiving value. He receives it by union with Christ" (24). I think later in his career he recognizes the intrinsic value of the individual as Imago Dei; still the value is not because of anything the person does but is due to what we are as creatures. He does counter the Platonic influence with a clear statement that our eternal existence will be corporeal, which I think Christians sometimes need to be reminded of.
Then he says, " . . . as organs in the Body of Christ, as stones and pillars in the temple, we are assured of our eternal self-identity and shall live to remember the galaxies as an old tale" (23).
I've said before that Charles Williams' Arthurian poems make me feel like I'm levitating . . . Lewis's prose can sometimes have the same effect. What an amazing description of eternity--outliving the galaxies! While the "collective . . . is mortal," the individual and the Body "live forever" (22).
The first essay in this collection (which was published posthumously) is "Membership"; I thought maybe it would shed some light on Mark in THS, which I think it may. It's an interesting discussion, first read as a lecture in 1945. Its focus is the contrast between membership in the "collective" and "participation in the Body of Christ" (13). Lewis sets up a hierarchy: Body of Christ, "personal and private life," and "collective life" (13).
He references literature to provide examples; he mentions Charlotte Yonge, who has been on my list of authors I want to read -- maybe after I work my way through Dickens. He sees Rat, Mole, and Badger (in The Wind in the Willows) as symbolizing "the extreme differentiation of persons in harmonious union which we know intuitively to be our true refuge both from solitude and from the collective" (16). This is the function of the "mystical body" of Christ, the Church (15).
One sentence did remind me of themes in the trilogy, perhaps especially in THS: "Obedience is the road to freedom, humility the road to pleasure, unity the road to personality" (18). This seems to sum up the paths both Jane and Mark had to follow too find peace and fulfillment.
Lewis's medievalism and Platonism show up here in a privileging of hierarchy over equality, though he recognizes that "artificial equality is necessary in the life of the State"; he says, "in the church we strip off this disguise, we recover our real inequalities, and are thereby refreshed and quickened" (18). He seems in this essay to value humans only partially correctly; he says, "the value of the individual does not lie in him. He is capable of receiving value. He receives it by union with Christ" (24). I think later in his career he recognizes the intrinsic value of the individual as Imago Dei; still the value is not because of anything the person does but is due to what we are as creatures. He does counter the Platonic influence with a clear statement that our eternal existence will be corporeal, which I think Christians sometimes need to be reminded of.
Then he says, " . . . as organs in the Body of Christ, as stones and pillars in the temple, we are assured of our eternal self-identity and shall live to remember the galaxies as an old tale" (23).
I've said before that Charles Williams' Arthurian poems make me feel like I'm levitating . . . Lewis's prose can sometimes have the same effect. What an amazing description of eternity--outliving the galaxies! While the "collective . . . is mortal," the individual and the Body "live forever" (22).
Sunday, February 14, 2010
The Narnian, ch 5 . . .
Just the highlights tonight; between my injured hand and the Olympics I'm not sure whether I'll get the blogging done regularly for the next couple of weeks. But I'll give it a shot.
In this chapter Jacobs covers Lewis's early years at Oxford until his first (temporary) appointment which began his career as a don. The focus is on Lewis's relationship with Mrs. Moore and the friendships established during this time.
While Lewis had (and was required to have) rooms in college, he set up house with Mrs. Moore and apparently spent nearly every spare moment there, going in to college for lectures, to meet with his tutors, and to spend the night in his rooms--he had to be in by curfew! We learn that he could work in the midst of chaos and interruptions and be productive in such circumstances, which, according to Warnie and others, were constant in the household. It seems clear that Lewis's "affair," at least at this time, was an intimate relationship; he saw this as his family--at a time when his relationship with his father was quite strained. He maintained a relationship with Mrs. Moore for 30 years, caring for her as she became ill and even more eccentric than she was at this time. She is described here as "unintellectual" and "anti-Christian" (94, 95). No one seemed to understand their relationship either then or now; Jacobs says, "Indeed, this is the great mystery of C. S. Lewis's life" (93).
During these years, but being careful to keep the "home" and academic sides of his life separate, he developed several friendships which would be influential for years. Foremost of these new friends was Owen Barfield; Lewis wrote of him, "he is not so much the alter ego as the antiself" (91). They were worthy sparing partners for each other but also so fond of one another that their friendship grew through, in spite of, because of their very different ideas on many topics. [To learn more about what they called the "Great War," you might look at C. S. Lewis' "Great War" with Owen Barfield (1978), by Lionel Adey.] I love this relationship--and many of the friendships among the Inklings--because it allows for so much freedom and difference; too often, I think, we (only) see friendships between people who "have things in common." Lewis's friendships seem to have really stretched him, causing him to develop his ideas and his ability to articulate them.
Jacobs comments that Lewis joined a literary group, the Martlets, and read to them a paper on William Morris (100). I'd love to know if this paper exists and where. This brings me to the one complaint I have so far of Jacobs' book; there's obviously a lot of scholarly research here, but the "notes" appear in truncated, sometimes unclear, format at the back of the book, and there's no indication in the text itself when there may be a note available. I suppose when writing for a popular audience it's difficult to strike a balance between readers and academic documentation, but I still wish the text had included endnote numbers and the endnotes themselves were more clearly documented. However, it's an interesting and sometimes enlightening read.
In this chapter Jacobs covers Lewis's early years at Oxford until his first (temporary) appointment which began his career as a don. The focus is on Lewis's relationship with Mrs. Moore and the friendships established during this time.
While Lewis had (and was required to have) rooms in college, he set up house with Mrs. Moore and apparently spent nearly every spare moment there, going in to college for lectures, to meet with his tutors, and to spend the night in his rooms--he had to be in by curfew! We learn that he could work in the midst of chaos and interruptions and be productive in such circumstances, which, according to Warnie and others, were constant in the household. It seems clear that Lewis's "affair," at least at this time, was an intimate relationship; he saw this as his family--at a time when his relationship with his father was quite strained. He maintained a relationship with Mrs. Moore for 30 years, caring for her as she became ill and even more eccentric than she was at this time. She is described here as "unintellectual" and "anti-Christian" (94, 95). No one seemed to understand their relationship either then or now; Jacobs says, "Indeed, this is the great mystery of C. S. Lewis's life" (93).
During these years, but being careful to keep the "home" and academic sides of his life separate, he developed several friendships which would be influential for years. Foremost of these new friends was Owen Barfield; Lewis wrote of him, "he is not so much the alter ego as the antiself" (91). They were worthy sparing partners for each other but also so fond of one another that their friendship grew through, in spite of, because of their very different ideas on many topics. [To learn more about what they called the "Great War," you might look at C. S. Lewis' "Great War" with Owen Barfield (1978), by Lionel Adey.] I love this relationship--and many of the friendships among the Inklings--because it allows for so much freedom and difference; too often, I think, we (only) see friendships between people who "have things in common." Lewis's friendships seem to have really stretched him, causing him to develop his ideas and his ability to articulate them.
Jacobs comments that Lewis joined a literary group, the Martlets, and read to them a paper on William Morris (100). I'd love to know if this paper exists and where. This brings me to the one complaint I have so far of Jacobs' book; there's obviously a lot of scholarly research here, but the "notes" appear in truncated, sometimes unclear, format at the back of the book, and there's no indication in the text itself when there may be a note available. I suppose when writing for a popular audience it's difficult to strike a balance between readers and academic documentation, but I still wish the text had included endnote numbers and the endnotes themselves were more clearly documented. However, it's an interesting and sometimes enlightening read.
Saturday, February 13, 2010
The Narnian, ch 4 . . .
Chapter 4 deals with the war years; both Tolkien and Lewis served in the war. Jacobs tells us that Lewis arrived at the front lines in France on his 19th birthday (69); within just a couple of months he was suffering from "trench fever," which Tolkien also contracted.
I looked this up. It's a bacterial infection spread by body lice, and here's a description:
"trench fever was characterized by the abrupt onset of fever, malaise, myalgias, headache, transient macular rash of the torso, pain in the long bones of the leg (shins), and splenomegaly. Typical periodic cycles of fever, chills, and sweats occurred at 5-day intervals, resulting in prolonged disability that lasted 3 months or longer in young soldiers." (from eMedicine by WebMD)
Lewis was in hospital only about a month and then returned to the front lines, where he was soon wounded and out of the fighting for good.
Jacobs discusses Lewis's inclusion of battles in the Narnia stories, where, though he spares his young readers the intensity of the battles he saw in World War I, Lewis doesn't shield them from encounters with frightening dangers in fighting against evil armies nor from experiencing the pain of fallen comrades. Jacobs says, "I suspect he risked the forthrightness [in The Last Battle] because in just a few pages he would have Aslan call all the humans and other creatures into the New Narnia, his everlasting kingdom" (74).
However, when Lewis was in the war, and then returned home with his injuries, he wasn't yet a believer; he didn't yet have a hope of an everlasting kingdom, and he must have suffered greatly. Jacobs notes that letters to several people briefly note this though Lewis doesn't dwell on the after-effects. He did apparently suffer from recurring nightmares (75), which was common. I remember as a young girl being startled from sleep by my father's tortured screams in the darkness; then my thumping heart would slowly regain its rhythm while I listened to my mother's soothing whispers comforting him till his sobbing stopped. It occurs to me that perhaps this element of comfort may have had something to do with Lewis's rather strange relationship with Mrs. Moore. I'll have to think about that.
After returning home, Lewis learned that his friend Paddy Moore had been killed in the war. He had made a commitment to care for Paddy's mother and sister should this happen, and we know that he kept his commitment; Jacobs will probably talk more about this later. One thing that I really admire about Lewis is that he seems to have been a man of his word--both before and following his conversion. I wonder if his love of Norse mythology and Spencer, etc. had helped to instill this code of honor in him. We see it in the "Lewis" character in That Hideous Strength who plods on to Ransom's house through a barrage of evil influence because he doesn't want to let down his friend.
Jacobs brings us up to the publication of Lewis's first book, the poems in Spirits in Bondage. He notes that these poems contain contradictory elements: "the metaphysical pessimism" of Housman and Kirk, as well as the fantastic elements of Morris and Yeats (77). He sees these poems as evidence that the 2 halves of Lewis's brain ("the analytical and the imaginative")have divided completely and that the "imaginative half is dying," overcome by "philosophical pessimism" (80).
This chapter closes with the end of the war; Warnie and Jack have both survived, as has Tolkein, but many, many young men they had known were gone, and the war had a profound effect on all the survivors. Jacobs ends with a quote from a letter by Wilfred Owen, whose haunting poem "Dulce et Decorum Est" is perhaps his most well-known; it saddens me to think of so many talented young people, who may have become poets, artists, writers, inventors, teachers, etc., that have been lost to both the necessity and the folly of war. And so very thankful for those who arrive home safely.
I looked this up. It's a bacterial infection spread by body lice, and here's a description:
"trench fever was characterized by the abrupt onset of fever, malaise, myalgias, headache, transient macular rash of the torso, pain in the long bones of the leg (shins), and splenomegaly. Typical periodic cycles of fever, chills, and sweats occurred at 5-day intervals, resulting in prolonged disability that lasted 3 months or longer in young soldiers." (from eMedicine by WebMD)
Lewis was in hospital only about a month and then returned to the front lines, where he was soon wounded and out of the fighting for good.
Jacobs discusses Lewis's inclusion of battles in the Narnia stories, where, though he spares his young readers the intensity of the battles he saw in World War I, Lewis doesn't shield them from encounters with frightening dangers in fighting against evil armies nor from experiencing the pain of fallen comrades. Jacobs says, "I suspect he risked the forthrightness [in The Last Battle] because in just a few pages he would have Aslan call all the humans and other creatures into the New Narnia, his everlasting kingdom" (74).
However, when Lewis was in the war, and then returned home with his injuries, he wasn't yet a believer; he didn't yet have a hope of an everlasting kingdom, and he must have suffered greatly. Jacobs notes that letters to several people briefly note this though Lewis doesn't dwell on the after-effects. He did apparently suffer from recurring nightmares (75), which was common. I remember as a young girl being startled from sleep by my father's tortured screams in the darkness; then my thumping heart would slowly regain its rhythm while I listened to my mother's soothing whispers comforting him till his sobbing stopped. It occurs to me that perhaps this element of comfort may have had something to do with Lewis's rather strange relationship with Mrs. Moore. I'll have to think about that.
After returning home, Lewis learned that his friend Paddy Moore had been killed in the war. He had made a commitment to care for Paddy's mother and sister should this happen, and we know that he kept his commitment; Jacobs will probably talk more about this later. One thing that I really admire about Lewis is that he seems to have been a man of his word--both before and following his conversion. I wonder if his love of Norse mythology and Spencer, etc. had helped to instill this code of honor in him. We see it in the "Lewis" character in That Hideous Strength who plods on to Ransom's house through a barrage of evil influence because he doesn't want to let down his friend.
Jacobs brings us up to the publication of Lewis's first book, the poems in Spirits in Bondage. He notes that these poems contain contradictory elements: "the metaphysical pessimism" of Housman and Kirk, as well as the fantastic elements of Morris and Yeats (77). He sees these poems as evidence that the 2 halves of Lewis's brain ("the analytical and the imaginative")have divided completely and that the "imaginative half is dying," overcome by "philosophical pessimism" (80).
This chapter closes with the end of the war; Warnie and Jack have both survived, as has Tolkein, but many, many young men they had known were gone, and the war had a profound effect on all the survivors. Jacobs ends with a quote from a letter by Wilfred Owen, whose haunting poem "Dulce et Decorum Est" is perhaps his most well-known; it saddens me to think of so many talented young people, who may have become poets, artists, writers, inventors, teachers, etc., that have been lost to both the necessity and the folly of war. And so very thankful for those who arrive home safely.
Wednesday, February 10, 2010
The Narnian, ch 3 . . .
In this chapter we get Lewis's final years of schooling before university, and these were the best years in many ways for him, as he lived and studied with the "Great Knock," William Kirkpatrick. Here Lewis's logical and debating skills were honed, and he thoroughly enjoyed the freedom from the torments of his earlier schools.
His reading included "popular fiction, classic English novels, all of his classical, Italian, and German literature . . . [and] the greatest English poets" (63). His favorite reading was "Spenser's Faerie Queene . . . . "the prose and verse narratives of William Morris" . . . . and "everything he could find by Yeats" (63).
Jacobs quotes from a letter from Lewis to his friend Arthur Greeves:
"never since I first read [Morris's] 'The well at the world's end' have I enjoyed a book so much--and indeed I think my new 'find' is quite as good as Malory or Morris himself. The book . . . is George MacDonald's 'Faerie Romance,' Phantastes" (63).
I've chosen The Well at the World's End for my 401 students for later in the semester; I'll have to remember to point this out to them.
Jacobs points out that during his stay with Kirkpatrick, Lewis adopted a "materialist view of myth"; to him all myths, including the Christian myth, grew out of the natural processes and events in the world (48). Lewis himself wrote, "The two hemispheres of my mind were in the sharpest contrast. On the one side a many-islanded sea of poetry and myth; on the other a glib and shallow 'rationalism.' Nearly all that I loved I believed to be imaginary; nearly all that I believed to be real I thought grim and meaningless." (49)
I've known people like this, who deeply appreciate the beauty and delight that Lewis encountered in myth and poetry, though they may encounter it in different ways. It is a balm to them in their otherwise grim and meaningless lives. It saddens me. And makes me thankful for the grace of integrity in true Christianity.
After reading this chapter, I wished I had read it before I re-read the trilogy. All the way through THS, I was wondering if McPhee was modeled on someone Lewis knew; B[arfield], Humphreys, Tolkien, and Williams are all mentioned by name. Jacobs claims that Kirkpatrick is the model for McPhee as well as for Professor Kirke in the Narnia stories. It makes sense--wish I'd made the connection myself!
His reading included "popular fiction, classic English novels, all of his classical, Italian, and German literature . . . [and] the greatest English poets" (63). His favorite reading was "Spenser's Faerie Queene . . . . "the prose and verse narratives of William Morris" . . . . and "everything he could find by Yeats" (63).
Jacobs quotes from a letter from Lewis to his friend Arthur Greeves:
"never since I first read [Morris's] 'The well at the world's end' have I enjoyed a book so much--and indeed I think my new 'find' is quite as good as Malory or Morris himself. The book . . . is George MacDonald's 'Faerie Romance,' Phantastes" (63).
I've chosen The Well at the World's End for my 401 students for later in the semester; I'll have to remember to point this out to them.
Jacobs points out that during his stay with Kirkpatrick, Lewis adopted a "materialist view of myth"; to him all myths, including the Christian myth, grew out of the natural processes and events in the world (48). Lewis himself wrote, "The two hemispheres of my mind were in the sharpest contrast. On the one side a many-islanded sea of poetry and myth; on the other a glib and shallow 'rationalism.' Nearly all that I loved I believed to be imaginary; nearly all that I believed to be real I thought grim and meaningless." (49)
I've known people like this, who deeply appreciate the beauty and delight that Lewis encountered in myth and poetry, though they may encounter it in different ways. It is a balm to them in their otherwise grim and meaningless lives. It saddens me. And makes me thankful for the grace of integrity in true Christianity.
After reading this chapter, I wished I had read it before I re-read the trilogy. All the way through THS, I was wondering if McPhee was modeled on someone Lewis knew; B[arfield], Humphreys, Tolkien, and Williams are all mentioned by name. Jacobs claims that Kirkpatrick is the model for McPhee as well as for Professor Kirke in the Narnia stories. It makes sense--wish I'd made the connection myself!
Tuesday, February 9, 2010
The Narian, ch 2
Chapter Two deals with the succession of boarding (public) schools the Lewis boys attended; we learn that Warnie was a "blood," a member of the often vicious ruling class of boys who were merciless in their treatment of lesser beings like Jack (though by the time Jack came to Malvern, Warnie had moved on to another school). In this hierarchy, the boys in power could demand that the others did whatever they were told; they became servants and whipping boys. This "fagging" left a lasting negative impression on Jack and other victims of schoolboy brutality. Jacobs notes that, as a result of the fagging system, George Orwell was "energized . . . politically" and adopted a sort of socialism, while Lewis turned inward and withdrew "from the political realm" (34). He also points out that this system led to a desire in some boys to become part of the "Inner Ring," which Lewis portrays so well in Mark Studdock in That Hideous Strength (35).
Jacobs recounts Lewis's experience at Wynyard College school during his pre-teen years; here "real Christian faith became part of his life for the first time" (37). But this faith, which he admired because he saw the sincerity of those who taught it, was experienced by him as a strenuous faith of works. During this time, too, he was influenced by two views of religion that undermined his faith in the truth of Christianity. First, Jacobs tells us, as Lewis read the Classics he began to wonder if Christianity might not be just as false as the pagan religions, and then he meet a woman, Miss Cowie, who "today would be called a proponent of New Age spirituality" (38). Lewis wrote: "She was . . . floundering in the mazes of Theosophy, Rosicrucianism, Spiritualism, the whole Anglo-American Occultist tradition" (38). In these concepts he found an expanding idea of spirituality, which made no rigorous demands on him; Jacobs says, "Freed from the burdens of prayer, by the time he left Malvern Jack had ceased to be a Christian" (40).
The chapter ends with a discussion of Lewis's intense search for "Joy," which drove him throughout his later teen years to flee from the unrewarding rigors of traditional Christianity and to search for "a world where delight was still possible" (42).
This all brings two things to mind: First, it frustrates me no end when Christianity is lived in this stultifying, barren way, and many Christians do live like this, beating themselves up all the time for their fallen nature and sinful behavior; that made me think of the film, Martin Luther, where Luther is constantly living in fear of God and bemoaning his sins--his confessor tells him that he's not so wicked as he tries to make out and that he's never confessed anything that was even interesting! The priest then tells Luther to look to Christ, to bind himself to Christ, and find mercy. It often seems to me that Christians who live this life of constant self deprecation are in fact egocentric and not looking to Christ; He is to be the focus of the Christian's life, not ourselves, not our sin, not our failings. This, to me, is liberating.
And Second, I find it interesting that later in life two of Lewis's closest friends would be Owen Barfield, a theosophist, and Charles Williams, who for a time was a member of the Golden Dawn and very interested in occult (secret) organizations and practices. Both of these men remained orthodox in faith but their Christianity allowed for the very sort of expansion the young Jack was seeking, yet he never followed that path with them.
Jacobs recounts Lewis's experience at Wynyard College school during his pre-teen years; here "real Christian faith became part of his life for the first time" (37). But this faith, which he admired because he saw the sincerity of those who taught it, was experienced by him as a strenuous faith of works. During this time, too, he was influenced by two views of religion that undermined his faith in the truth of Christianity. First, Jacobs tells us, as Lewis read the Classics he began to wonder if Christianity might not be just as false as the pagan religions, and then he meet a woman, Miss Cowie, who "today would be called a proponent of New Age spirituality" (38). Lewis wrote: "She was . . . floundering in the mazes of Theosophy, Rosicrucianism, Spiritualism, the whole Anglo-American Occultist tradition" (38). In these concepts he found an expanding idea of spirituality, which made no rigorous demands on him; Jacobs says, "Freed from the burdens of prayer, by the time he left Malvern Jack had ceased to be a Christian" (40).
The chapter ends with a discussion of Lewis's intense search for "Joy," which drove him throughout his later teen years to flee from the unrewarding rigors of traditional Christianity and to search for "a world where delight was still possible" (42).
This all brings two things to mind: First, it frustrates me no end when Christianity is lived in this stultifying, barren way, and many Christians do live like this, beating themselves up all the time for their fallen nature and sinful behavior; that made me think of the film, Martin Luther, where Luther is constantly living in fear of God and bemoaning his sins--his confessor tells him that he's not so wicked as he tries to make out and that he's never confessed anything that was even interesting! The priest then tells Luther to look to Christ, to bind himself to Christ, and find mercy. It often seems to me that Christians who live this life of constant self deprecation are in fact egocentric and not looking to Christ; He is to be the focus of the Christian's life, not ourselves, not our sin, not our failings. This, to me, is liberating.
And Second, I find it interesting that later in life two of Lewis's closest friends would be Owen Barfield, a theosophist, and Charles Williams, who for a time was a member of the Golden Dawn and very interested in occult (secret) organizations and practices. Both of these men remained orthodox in faith but their Christianity allowed for the very sort of expansion the young Jack was seeking, yet he never followed that path with them.
Friday, February 5, 2010
rest from blogging . . .
No blogging for a few days. I've sprained my wrist/thumb . . . on my right hand! So doc says ice it and stay away from computer! The ice and meds are helping, but it's SO hard not to be on the computer! But I'll be able to get a lot of reading done since I can't really do anything else--like housework.
Back to the Inklings on Monday I hope.
Back to the Inklings on Monday I hope.
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