Tortured Writing & the Inklings

Amanda McKittrick Ros (1860-1939) was an Irish poet and novelist beloved by the Oxford Inklings. “Beloved” here is used in the sense of treasured for its distinctiveness, rather than admired for its artistry.

An article about Ros in Smithsonian Magazine is subtitled: “Amanda McKittrick Ros predicted she would achieve lasting fame as a novelist. Unfortunately, she did.”

So how is it that a writer described by the Oxford Companion to Irish Literature (OCIL) as authoring “unconscious comedy of a very high order” came to occupy a special place within the company of C.S. Lewis, J.R.R. Tolkien and their literary fellows? Why did they begin reading her works as a sort of contest, with the challenge of neither laughing nor smiling as they did so?

It was not because her mother (or she herself) christened her after a character in The Children of the Abbey, published in 1796. (Her initial name was “Anna.”)

No, it was due to an intrinsic element of her frequently alliterative artistry, described by OCIL in the following manner.

She published two sentimental romances, Irene Iddlesleigh (1897) and Delina Delany (1898), both in an idiosyncratic manner that provides unconscious comedy of a very high order. . . .

Most of her published writings appeared posthumously as a result of literary curiosity.

Many writers would agree that writing comedy is quite challenging. Comedy Crowd is devoted to helping writers gain some skill in this arena, and if you take a moment to check out their video about failed puns – after you finish reading this post – you won’t be disappointed. 

As one commenter on SleuthSayers puts it, “. . . writing humor isn’t easy. It’s even dangerous: trying to be funny and failing would be almost as bad as being funny when you’re trying to be serious.” Sadly, the worst of these options proved to be the fortune of poor Amanda.

Even her native Northern Ireland Library Authority confesses that her “writing style can only be described as elaborate, melodramatic, using startling descriptions with mixed metaphors and inappropriate alliteration with the result being unintentionally hilarious.”

In her collection “Poems of Puncture,” I came across a piece titled “Reverend Goliath Ginbottle.” Being a reverend myself, I eagerly listened to a LibriVox recording of the poem (which you can download for free from Internet Archive), and I was not disappointed. Her description of this “viper of vanity” and her joy at his ultimate judgment was delightfully colorful. Or, should you prefer to hear a diatribe against a corrupt lawyer, listen to Mickey Monkeyface McBlear, who bore “a mouth like a moneybox.”

TV Tropes has an article about Ros which attributes a dozen tropes to her pen.

In the Style of: Aldous Huxley noted that Ros wrote in the 16th century style of Euphuism. Susan Sontag decades later stated that Euphuism was the progenitor of camp, which would explain why literary greats found her writing so hilarious.

Those curious about euphuism can read John Lyly’s Euphues: the Anatomy of Wit; Euphues and His England which is filled with delights unnumbered. Originally two volumes, the books were published in the sixteenth century.

C.S. Lewis was a serious enough “fan” of Ros’ writings to share his affection for them with Cambridge Classicist Nan Dunbar. C.S. Lewis scholar Joel Heck has written a worthwhile article about the ongoing friendship between the two professors.

For a detailed study of the literary relationship between Amanda McKittrick Ros and the Inklings, I highly recommend the article by Anita Gorman and Leslie R. Mateer which appeared in Mythlore.

As they describe, even before the Inklings added occasional readings of her work to their gatherings, as early as 1907 there was in Oxford a society devoted to weekly readings of her works. The authors pose, and then proceed to answer, the following question.

What . . . impelled C.S. Lewis and his mates to read aloud Ros’s work? Yes, the improbable plots, silly characters, and nonexistent themes may have played a role, but were those enough to captivate the Inklings and to give rise to Delina Delaney dinners and Amanda Ros societies?

After all, many writers have written improbable plots about improbable people, and these writers have enjoyed short-lived reputations, if any reputations at all. Yet Amanda lives on.

For Those with Stout Constitutions

Mere Inkling offers one final look back at the transcendent poetry of Amanda McKittrick Ros. This infamous selection can be found at the aptly named Pity the Readers: Horribly Excellent Writing website.

“Visiting Westminster Abbey”
(from Fumes of Formation)

Holy Moses! Have a look!
Flesh decayed in every nook!
Some rare bits of brain lie here,
Mortal loads of beef and beer,

Some of whom are turned to dust,
Every one bids lost to lust;
Royal flesh so tinged with ‘blue’
Undergoes the same as you.

These morose words bring to mind another verse, composed in the form of a song by the artists of Monty Python. It appeared on Monty Python’s Contractual Obligation Album as “Decomposing Composers.”

They’re decomposing composers.
There’s nothing much anyone can do.
You can still hear Beethoven,
But Beethoven cannot hear you. . . .

Verdi and Wagner delighted the crowds
With their highly original sound.
The pianos they played are still working,
But they’re both six feet underground.

They’re decomposing composers.
There’s less of them every year.
You can say what you like to Debussy,
But there’s not much of him left to hear.

Yes, similarly morbid verse, but offered here to provide a sharp contrast between types of humor. Monty Python is the epitome of Camp, which according to Susan Sontag,

sees everything in quotation marks. It’s not a lamp, but a “lamp;” not a woman, but a “woman.” To perceive Camp in objects and persons is to understand Being-as-Playing-a-Role. It is the farthest extension, in sensibility, of the metaphor of life as theater.

Although Sontag notes “one must distinguish between naïve and deliberate Camp,” she argues the “pure examples of Camp are unintentional.” She considers self-conscious efforts, such as Noel Coward (and presumably Monty Python as well) as “usually less satisfying.”

Another perspective offers a helpful dichotomy to distinguish between “intentionality: whether camp deliberately cultivated (‘high’ camp) is the same to that of the unintentional kind (‘low’ camp).”

Personally, I often enjoy high (nonvulgar) camp humor – witty silliness that scoffs at life’s peculiarities. As for unintentional, “low” camp such as we find in Ros, I typically feel a flash of guilt at hurting (even posthumously) the feelings of a writer. Most of us writers are, after all, a sensitive and vulnerable breed.


The enlightening illustrations accompanying this article are from Amanda McKittrick Ros Society Promotional Memes, ably captained by Dan Morgan.

George MacDonald’s Poetry

George MacDonald (1824-1905) was a prolific Scot writer. His legacy was amplified due to his influence on G.K. Chesterton and C.S. Lewis. (He was also a friend of Mark Twain.) An essay, originally presented as a speech by G.K. Chesterton, is available online.

Chesterton goes so far as to say, “if to be a great man is to hold the universe in one’s head or heart, Dr. MacDonald is great. No man has carried about with him so naturally heroic an atmosphere.” Listen to his description of that special type of literature that inspired many Inklings, chiefly C.S. Lewis and J.R.R. Tolkien.

Many religious writers have written allegories and fairy tales, which have gone to creating the universal conviction that there is nothing that shows so little spirituality as an allegory, and nothing that contains so little imagination as a fairy tale. But from all these Dr. MacDonald is separated by an abyss of profound originality of intention.

The difference is that the ordinary moral fairy tale is an allegory of real life. Dr. MacDonald’s tales of real life are allegories, or disguised versions, of his fairy tales.

It is not that he dresses up men and movements as knights and dragons, but that he thinks that knights and dragons, really existing in the eternal world, are dressed up here as men and movements.

C.S. Lewis, for his part, praised MacDonald as instrumental in tilling the soil for his eventual conversion to Christianity. He was on the defensive, since the writers which most inspired him shared a common flaw – they were Christians.

All the books were beginning to turn against me. Indeed, I must have been as blind as a bat not to have seen, long before, the ludicrous contradiction between my theory of life and my actual experiences as a reader.

George MacDonald had done more to me than any other writer; of course it was a pity he had that bee in his bonnet about Christianity. He was good in spite of it.

Chesterton had more sense than all the other moderns put together; bating, of course, his Christianity. Johnson was one of the few authors whom I felt I could trust utterly; curiously enough, he had the same kink. Spenser and Milton by a strange coincidence had it too (Surprised by Joy).

Lewis would actually come to edit a selection of MacDonald’s passages for an edifying anthologyThis post includes a link for downloading a copy of George MacDonald: An Anthology.

This week I was reading one of MacDonald’s excellent essays, which appears in The Imagination and Other Essays. I intend to discuss some of his thoughts on age and writing soon. Although I am not an aficionado of poetry – despite having composed poetry from time to time, including quintains, I turned to another of MacDonald’s books.

On to His Poetry

I decided to follow up MacDonald’s brilliant essay with a dip into his poetry. Fortunately, Internet Archive allows you to freely download a complete copy of MacDonald’s Scotch Songs and Ballads, published in 1893. My conscience forces me, however, to provide a single caveat. Be forewarned that the tome is not suited for those intimidated by pronounced dialects.

Before looking at one of his poems in its entirety, allow me to share with you a passage from “The Waesome Carl” which I particularly enjoyed (due to its portrait of a preacher). 

The minister wasna fit to pray
And lat alane to preach;
He nowther had the gift o’ grace
Nor yet the gift o’ speech!
He mind’t him o’ Balaäm’s ass,
Wi’ a differ we micht ken:
The Lord he opened the ass’s mou,
The minister opened’s ain!
He was a’ wrang, and a’ wrang,
And a’thegither a’ wrang;
There wasna a man aboot the toon
But was a’thegither a’ wrang!
The puir precentor couldna sing,
He gruntit like a swine . . .

Not that I claim able to decipher it all, but my impression is that it’s not especially flattering. It is definitely entertaining. And I humbly think I interpret it significantly more accurately than Google’s online translator, which provided the following version.

The minister was not fit to pray
And lat alane to preach;
He nowther had the gift o’ grace
Nor yet the gift o’ speech!
He mind’t him o’ Balaam’s ass,
Wi’ a differ we micht ken:
The Lord he opened the ass’s mou,
The minister opened his eyes!
He was a’ wrang, and a’ wrang,
And a’thegither a’wrang;
There was a man aboot the toon
But thegither was wrong!
The puir precentor couldna sing,
He grunted like a swine. . .

Using the Dictionars o the Scots Leid, you can make perfect sense of the words about which you may be uncertain. (Thank you, Scotland.)

Dialects are interesting things indeed. I will close with another of MacDonald’s poems. I submit it for (1) those who comprehend the dialect, (2) those who deem precious their Scottish ancestry, (3) those with an affinity for Connor MacLeod, and (4) those who simply enjoy a challenge.

Nannie Braw

I like ye weel upo Sundays, Nannie,
I’ yer goon and yer ribbons and a’;
But I like ye better on Mondays, Nannie,
Whan ye’re no sae buskit and braw.

For whan we’re sittin sae douce, Nannie,
Wi’ the lave o’ the worshippin fowk,
That aneth the haly hoose, Nannie,
Ye micht hear a moudiwarp howk,

It will come into my heid, Nannie,
O’ yer braws ye are thinkin a wee;
No alane o’ the Bible-seed, Nannie,
Nor the minister nor me!

Syne hame athort the green, Nannie,
Ye gang wi’ a toss o’ yer chin;
And there walks a shadow atween ‘s, Nannie,
A dark ane though it be thin!

But noo, whan I see ye gang, Nannie,
Eident at what’s to be dune,
Liltin a haiveless sang, Nannie,
I wud kiss yer verra shune!

Wi’ yer silken net on yer hair, Nannie,
I’ yer bonnie blue petticoat,
Wi’ yer kin’ly arms a’ bare, Nannie,
On yer ilka motion I doat.

For, oh, but ye’re canty and free, Nannie,
Airy o’ hert and o’ fit!
A star-beam glents frae yer ee, Nannie–
O’ yersel ye’re no thinkin a bit!

Fillin the cogue frae the coo, Nannie,
Skimmin the yallow ream,
Pourin awa the het broo, Nannie,
Lichtin the lampie’s leme,

Turnin or steppin alang, Nannie,
Liftin and layin doon,
Settin richt what’s aye gaein wrang, Nannie,
Yer motion’s baith dance and tune!

I’ the hoose ye’re a licht and a law, Nannie,
A servan like him ‘at’s abune:
Oh, a woman’s bonniest o’ a’, Nannie,
Doin what maun be dune!

Cled i’ yer Sunday claes, Nannie,
Fair kythe ye to mony an ee;
But cled i’ yer ilka-day’s, Nannie,
Ye draw the hert frae me!

Addendum:

For those interested in pursuing this linguistic subject, I just came across a delightful 1896 collection of works you can download for free. Legends of the Saints: in the Scottish Dialect of the Fourteenth Century is “edited from the unique manuscript in the University Library, Cambridge.”


The cartoon above comes from Mr. Punch in the Highlands which was published “with 140 illustrations” more than a century ago. You can download your personal copy of humorous work at Internet Archive.

Peculiar Poetic Themes

Would you purchase a collection of poetry inspired by pigs? It was certainly not what I was looking for, but my local library has once again seduced me by conducting one of their periodic “used book sales.” 

I find them irresistible. Just as I was unable to bypass, without browsing, any “secondhand bookshop” while I lived in the United Kingdom.

One never knows what treasures are buried in the stacks, since many of the volumes came from personal libraries where they may have rested for decades.

We had just finished our regular writing critique meeting when I accompanied two of my companions into the wilderness of temptation. Alas, on one of the first shelves I perused, I encountered an oddity I was unable to resist. 

The title attracted my interest – The Porcine Legacy. The minimalist sketches of pigs illustrating the text drew me in. And the final element, which captured me, was that it was autographed by both the author and the artist. The bargain price sealed the deal.

Scanning the poems I saw curious mentions of God, which I considered intriguing. The swinish images reminded me of some of DaVinci’s quick sketches of animals.

Sadly, although he professes the love he had for his hogs and piglets, the author did consign them to the market. I understand that’s their intended fate, and I do enjoy lean bacon, but it seems sad. Especially in an ode to porcine intelligence and their congeniality as pets.

The author, David Lee, moved on from animal husbandry to teaching at a university in Utah. Presumably it was his contributions there, rather than on his farmstead, which earned him the honor of becoming the very first poet laureate of Utah.

A Taste of Porcine Poetry

The poem which follows is entitled “Jubilate Agno, 1975.” As often happens when I expose myself to unfamiliar works, I learned far more than I anticipated. In this case, I discovered the “1975” in the title was included because the poem was based upon a religious poem originally penned between 1759 and 1763, while its author, Christopher Smart, was convalescing as a “Curable Patient” at London’s St. Luke’s Hospital for Lunatics.

Lee’s version follows the basic structure of Smart’s 1200 line work. Cat lovers will enjoy a section of seventy-four lines where the original author praises the wonders of his cat, Jeoffry. This is the portion of the original which most closely resembles the copy, since the latter extols its author’s favorite sow. Lee also proposes a shift in the deity upon whom the creature focuses.

For I will consider my Cat Jeoffry.
For he is the servant of the Living God duly and daily serving him.
For at the first glance of the glory of God in the East he worships in his Way.

~~~~~~

For I will consider my black sow Blackula.
For she is the servant of the god of the feed bucket and serveth him.
For she worships the god in him and the secret of his pail in her way.

The title, “Jubilate Agno” actually translates as “Rejoice in the Lamb.” And, while Lee includes no such reference, the beginning lines of Smart’s work proclaim its vision in inspiring terms.

Rejoice in God, O ye Tongues; give the glory to the Lord, and the Lamb.
Nations, and languages, and every Creature, in which is the breath of Life.
Let man and beast appear before him, and magnify his name together.

I encourage interested readers to read the edifying “Jubilate Agno” by Christopher Smart, which is available here. Ailurophiles (cat lovers) can go directly to the feline section here. The complete text of  “Jubilate Agno, 1975” is available at the Poetry Foundation.

Although I don’t believe C.S. Lewis ever wrote porcine poetry, there is an interesting passage which appears in Boxen, the collection of his childhood stories. Apparently, the first king of the northern region of Animal-Land, set out to add Pig-Land to his domain.

The pigs under their various chiefs (who had now united against Hacom, as a common enemy) advanced to meet him. The 2 armies met at a place called Kuckton (near where Marston now stands). Hacom fought well, and would have won had he not been outwitted by a clever feint on the part of the pigs.

The [invading] force was beaten, but still, much had been done towards the subjection of the pigs. Hacom was severely wounded by a stray arrow, but might have recovered, had he not been obliged to spend the night in the fields. It was winter, and the wound froze causing instant death. He had been an excellent king.

Surprisingly, to me at least, there are many other poems inspired by pigs. Since I’ve written in the past about Roald Dahl (and his slight connection to C.S. Lewis), seeing his poem entitled “The Pig” incited my curiosity. The All Poetry website includes the poem, and offers as part of its analysis:

“The Pig” by Roald Dahl is a humorous and macabre poem that explores the existential crisis of a highly intelligent pig. The poem is characterized by its playful language, which contrasts with the gruesome subject matter. . . .

The pig’s realization that he is destined for slaughter also highlights the existential themes of meaninglessness and the inevitability of death. Overall, “The Pig” is a clever and thought-provoking poem that combines humor, darkness, and a touch of existential angst, showcasing Dahl’s versatility as a storyteller.

So, if you want to end this peculiar discussion with a bit of existential porcine angst, ponder Dahl’s poem, “The Pig.”

In England once there lived a big,
A wonderfully clever pig.
To everybody it was plain
That Piggy had a massive brain.
He worked out sums inside his head,
There was no book he hadn’t read.
He knew what made an airplane fly,
He knew how engines worked and why.
He knew all this, but in the end
One question drove him round the bend:
He simply couldn’t puzzle out
What LIFE was really all about.

What was the reason for his birth?
Why was he placed upon this earth?
His giant brain went round and round.
Alas, no answer could be found.
Till suddenly one wondrous night.
All in a flash he saw the light.
He jumped up like a ballet dancer
And yelled, “By gum, I’ve got the answer!”
“They want my bacon slice by slice
“To sell at a tremendous price!
“They want my tender juicy chops
“To put in all the butcher’s shops!
“They want my pork to make a roast
“And that’s the part’ll cost the most!
“They want my sausages in strings!
“They even want my chitterlings!
“The butcher’s shop! The carving knife!
“That is the reason for my life!”

Such thoughts as these are not designed
To give a pig great peace of mind.
Next morning, in comes Farmer Bland,
A pail of pigswill in his hand,
And piggy with a mighty roar,
Bashes the farmer to the floor . . .
Now comes the rather grizzly bit
So let’s not make too much of it,
Except that you must understand
That Piggy did eat Farmer Bland,
He ate him up from head to toe,
Chewing the pieces nice and slow.
It took an hour to reach the feet,
Because there was so much to eat,
And when he finished, Pig, of course,
Felt absolutely no remorse.

Slowly he scratched his brainy head
And with a little smile he said,
“I had a fairly powerful hunch
“That he might have me for his lunch.
“And so, because I feared the worst,
“I thought I’d better eat him first.”

Do Lay People Think?

Attending seminary was shocking. Having grown up in Lutheran communities with a high view of the Scriptures, I anticipated entering an environment where I would grow in my knowledge and regard for God’s word. A setting consistent with our Reformation theology which confessed “Sola Scriptura,” the Scriptures alone, as the ultimate authority for doctrine and life.

I was amazed at the theology taught by a few of the faculty who were disciples of Bultmann’s radically skeptical interpretation of Christianity.

One morning I was in the seminary cafeteria – the aptly named Diet of Worms – commiserating over this situation with several other students who shared my astonishment. I said something to the effect of “Is Lutheranism what liberal theologians think, or what the majority of Confessionally-grounded lay people in the pews think?”

Apparently one of the New Testament professors had overheard our conversation. He could not resist walking over, leaning over our table, and asking – “Do lay people think?”

I’ve never forgotten the vanity and unintentional irony in that rhetorical comment. As I recall, it elicited a complicit chuckle from the entourage of liberal students already falling under his spell.

The greatest Christian apologist of the twentieth century, C.S. Lewis, was neither a cleric nor a theologian. Lewis described himself as “a very ordinary layman of the Church of England” (Mere Christianity). In the same work he expressed his lifelong position. Since he was not theologically trained, he was constrained from making authoritative declarations about complex matters.

I am only a layman, and at this point we are getting into deep water. I can only tell you, for what it is worth, how I, personally, look at the matter.

Pastors & Theologians, What are they Good For?

Some will answer that question echoing the words of the 1970 classic by the Temptations: “absolutely nothing.”

In an over-reaction to the errors of the medieval Papacy, some Protestants threw out all of the legitimate practices which had developed in the early church, including the ordination of pastors. The anti-clerical communities vary in their attitudes toward higher education for “teachers and elders,” but rarely regard such studies as necessary, or even a plus.

Most denominations, however, have maintained an awareness that having future pastors devote several years to biblical and theological studies is vital to the church’s wellbeing. Add to that additional subjects such as counseling and homiletics – skills that are essential – and you should get well-rounded pastors. 

Sadly, there are plenty of exceptions. I have written about wolves in sheep’s clothing in the past. Still, discerning students attending trustworthy seminaries invariably become better equipped to fulfill the demands of pastoral ministry. Check out “The Relevance of Theological Education” in the (free) journal Themelios which is published by the Gospel Coalition. Themelios is the Greek word for “foundation.” The article begins:

Most theological students have doubts at some time about the usefulness of their theological training. Some of these doubts are justified, since most theological courses leave plenty of room for improvement. But some of our doubts reflect a lack of understanding of the purpose and function of theological training.

What about Lay People?

Before the word “lay” became associated with distinguishing the mass of people from those within particular professions, it originated to distinguish the believing “laity” who adhere to a faith from clergy of that tradition.

Are clergy holier than laypeople? Definitely not. However, in the Christian faith we acknowledge that they are expected to live with greater moral integrity than those they serve. 

“Not many of you should become teachers, my brothers, for you know that we who teach will be judged with greater strictness” (James 3:1).

It is quite sobering for those who take God’s word seriously. In Paul’s letter to Titus we read a relatively explicit description of the requirements for pastors. 

“This is why I left you in Crete, so that you might . . . appoint elders in every town as I directed you – if anyone is above reproach, the husband of one wife, and his children are believers and not open to the charge of debauchery or insubordination. For an overseer, as God’s steward, must be above reproach.

“He must not be arrogant or quick-tempered or a drunkard or violent or greedy for gain, but hospitable, a lover of good, self-controlled, upright, holy, and disciplined. He must hold firm to the trustworthy word as taught, so that he may be able to give instruction in sound doctrine . . .” (Titus 1).

Different Roles

The inspiration for my post on this subject is an article I read in the 2024 Logos Bible Software Seminary Guide. A PhD theologian wrote “Do Theological Writers Need Theological Education?” which answered its own question in its subtitle: “Yes and No.” The writer states that degrees are most definitely not required.

There is nothing sacrosanct about sitting in a classroom . . . You can be educated through other means, with diligent reading being at the top of the list.

Simultaneously, he defends the values of a solid education. I love the way that he responds to the way some people denigrate theological education (because I’ve met more of these folks than I can number).

Today’s many populists might beg to differ. They mock “edumucation” and deride the arrogant eggheads who get too much of it. They flout the norms of academic discourse . . . they seem proud of their misspellings.

It’s not as if there is no truth at all in their complaints: educated people do indeed often give in to arrogance. But it’s not at all clear to me that arrogance about one’s ignorance is any better.

I concur. I’m against arrogance altogether – along with C.S. Lewis. “Lewis on Intellectual Pride” speaks directly to the question I’ve addressed herein. Discussing Lewis’ warnings about pursuing academia, the author says:

Why is intellectual arrogance so quick to rise within us? It makes us feel important. We understand more than others (we think). That makes us better than the ignorant masses (we boast).

Martin Luther described the centrality of God’s self-revelation in determining who is most fit to teach. And that has nothing to do with an individual’s ecclesiastical status.

The Bible is alive, it speaks to me; it has feet, it runs after me; it has hands, it lays hold of me. . . . A simple layman armed with Scripture is to be believed above a pope or a cardinal without it.

So, returning to the question with which I began, do lay people think? I am as scandalized by those very words as I was when I first heard them voiced. That particular professor is no longer alive. But, sadly, his prideful thinking remains with us today. And it’s not only evident in religion; humanity is plagued by an intelligentsia that dismisses the “lay” views of common people across the board. 

The actual truth is that education has its values, and its limitations. And there are innumerable laymen and women who possess wisdom on nearly every subject which is superior to the supposed “experts.” Yes, esteemed doctor of de-supernaturalized theology, lay people can indeed comprehend and share the wisdom of God.

Following C.S. Lewis’ Military Example

Like his friend J.R.R. Tolkien, and many of the British men of their generation, C.S. Lewis served in the grim battlefields of the First World War. (However, since Lewis was actually Irish, he could not be drafted, and instead volunteered to serve.)

In recent years a number of books have appeared related to the military service of the Inklings. In A Hobbit, a Wardrobe, and a Great War, the author introduces his discussion with a succinct summary.

For a generation of men and women, [WWI] brought the end of innocence – and the end of faith. Yet for two extraordinary authors and friends, J.R.R. Tolkien and C.S. Lewis, the Great War deepened their spiritual quest. Both men served as soldiers on the Western Front, survived the trenches, and used the experience of that conflict to shape their Christian imagination. . . .

By the time of the Armistice, more than nine million soldiers lay dead and roughly thirty-seven million wounded. On average, there were about 6,046 men killed every day of the war, a war that lasted 1,566 days. In Great Britain, almost six million men—a quarter of Britain’s adult male population – passed through the ranks of the army. About one in eight perished. Tolkien and Lewis might easily have been among their number.

In 1939, a correspondent inquired if Lewis was going to reassume his commission in the army for the new conflict, and he responded with sentiments I have heard voiced by a number of other combat veterans.

No, I haven’t joined the Territorials. I am too old. It would be hypocrisy to say that I regret this. My memories of the last war haunted my dreams for years.

C.S. Lewis proceeded to graphically explain the cost of serving under such pressure. 

Military service, to be plain, includes the threat of every temporal evil: pain and death which is what we fear from sickness: isolation from those we love which is what we fear from exile: toil under arbitrary masters, injustice and humiliation, which is what we fear from slavery: hunger, thirst, cold and exposure which is what we fear from poverty.

I’m not a pacifist. If it’s got to be, it’s got to be. But the flesh is weak and selfish and I think death would be much better than to live through another war.

A new announcement from the United States’ Department of Defense brought Lewis’ situation to mind. It appears that due to a number of factors – not least of which the emphasis on Diversity, Equity and Inclusion,* which (imo) has discouraged veterans from encouraging their children to serve in the armed forces – some services are repeatedly falling short of their recruiting goals. 

In light of the fact that the world is inarguably growing more dangerous – the Doomsday Clock is set at “90 seconds to midnight” – it is alarming that we are unable to fully staff our shrunken military.

Just today my sixteen year old grandson expressed concerns about the resumption of a draft. I could not muster a persuasive argument that it won’t happen. Ironically, the last time the U.S. involuntarily conscripted troops was 1972, the year I turned eighteen. Oh, in the process of including a link to the Selective Service Sytem, I was surprised to learn that a “Medical Draft is in Standby Mode.” 

It is designed to be implemented in connection with a national mobilization in an emergency, and then only if Congress and the President approve the plan and pass and sign legislation to enact it. . . .

[The plan will] provide a fair and equitable draft of doctors, nurses, medical technicians and those with certain other health care skills if, in some future emergency, the military’s existing medical capability proved insufficient and there is a shortage of volunteers. . . .

[If implemented, the plan will] begin a mass registration of male and female health care workers between the ages of 20 and 45. . . . HCPDS [the innocuously named Health Care Personnel Delivery System] would provide medical personnel from a pool of 3.4 million doctors, nurses, specialists and allied health professionals in more than 60 fields of medicine.

No Draft Yet

Since we are not currently at war, the specter of a draft remains ephemeral. Still, the shortage of volunteers has led to a variety of initiatives, such as lowering service qualification standards. These efforts have proven inadequate, resulting in the aforementioned announcement.

Both the Army and the Air Force have begun Retiree Recalls. Yes, that is just what it sounds like. People who have actually retired from the armed forces, normally after 20+ years of active duty, are being recalled to serve again. 

When I heard this news I was stunned. It is legally possible for the military to recall former members via a tiered process, but the first thing that came to my mind was my favorite high school teacher. He had served in Viet Nam as a draftee and finished his enlistment. He once told me that he felt safe, having survived, because now he was in the same call-up status as a “pregnant nun.” (Rather hyperbolic, but comforting to him.)

Fortunately, the current recalls are all voluntary. Only retirees whose personal circumstances make the offer appealing, will respond. As the Air Force Times reports, “Regret retiring? Here’s your shot at a second chance in the Air Force.”

I suspect that even vets who enjoyed their military service will be inclined to consider redonning the uniform as “too much of a good thing.” And if they witnessed the bloody horrors of war, as seen by C.S. Lewis, returning to the ranks would be even less tempting.

Since I, myself, have no desire to resume the demands of military life, I haven’t researched the age requirements for the Air Force recall program. Like Lewis, “I am too old.” 

But amazingly, depending on individual factors, the Army is willing to recall retired volunteers up to the age of seventy. That’s not a typo. As someone reaching that very milestone this summer, I can’t imagine returning to work side-by-side with troops half a century younger than me. 

Now, I pray for peace, knowing that being prepared for war is one way to increase that likelihood. So, I hope the military can throw off some of its political shackles and return to its necessary focus.

Furthermore, like C.S. Lewis, I have a pragmatic view of the effects of war. In “Learning in War-Time,” Lewis summarized the effects of military service during a war. As always, his insights are profound.

What does war do to death? It certainly does not make it more frequent: 100 per cent of us die, and the percentage cannot be increased. . . . Does it increase our chances of painful death? I doubt it. . . .

Does it decrease our chances of dying at peace with God? I cannot believe it. If active service does not persuade a man to prepare for death, what conceivable concatenation of circumstances would?


* This reference is to the convoluted and inequitable DEI philosophy and program(s) being mandated today. In truth, most people value diversity, and all people of goodwill believe in the importance of equity and inclusion. Along with Martin Luther King, Jr., they long for a day when people are not “judged by the color of their skin, but by the content of their character.”

Books Enjoyed by C.S. Lewis

Reading is not only one of life’s pleasures, the content and ethos of what we read, subtly influences the shape of our very lives.

C.S. Lewis loved books with genuine passion. While many people only perceive books as compilations of information or as sources of fleeting entertainment, he knew them as far more. Only someone sharing Lewis’ affection and wisdom will identify with the following passage from his essay “An Experiment in Criticism.”

The man who is contented to be only himself, and therefore less a self, is in prison. My own eyes are not enough for me, I will see through those of others. Reality, even seen through the eyes of many, is not enough. I will see what others have invented. . . .

Literary experience heals the wound, without undermining the privilege, of individuality. There are mass emotions which heal the wound; but they destroy the privilege. In them our separate selves are pooled and we sink back into sub-individuality.

But in reading great literature I become a thousand men and yet remain myself. Like the night sky in the Greek poem, I see with a myriad eyes, but it is still I who see. Here, as in worship, in love, in moral action, and in knowing, I transcend myself; and am never more myself than when I do.

Lewis scholar and emeritus professor of English, Dale J. Nelson, has been providing a wonderful service in recent years as he explores the books which found a place in C.S. Lewis’ personal library. “Jack and the Bookshelf” is a continuing series which appears in CSL, journal of the New York C.S. Lewis Society. Founded in 1969, the organization “is the oldest society for the ​appreciation and discussion of C.S. Lewis in the world.”

Nelson’s task of editorially archiving C.S. Lewis’ library is complemented by the work of our mutual friend, Dr. Brenton Dickieson. In a “comment” praising Dickieson’s compilation of “C.S. Lewis’ Teenage Bookshelf,” Nelson offers a commendation with which I fully concur.

Thank you for assembling that list of books . . . I’d encourage Lewis’s admirers to take their appreciation of CSL to the next step and delve into the things he liked to read throughout his life.

Nelson’s contribution to the December 2023 issue is the fifty-ninth in his series, and discusses a fantasy work titled The Worm Ouroboros by E.R. Eddison. Eddison (1882-1945) was a Norse scholar, and his fascination with mountains combined with that, to resonate with Lewis’ passion for northernness.

Dr. Nelson, who has added an array of science fiction to his own academic work, possesses superb credentials for exploring the connection between Lewis and Eddison. 

Nelson relates that, at C.S. Lewis’ invitation, Eddison attended two gatherings of the Inklings. At the second, Eddison – who relished critiques of his works in progress, as do many serious writers – read from a project which would not be published due to his death the following year.

Eddison’s themes more closely resembled J.R.R. Tolkien’s than Lewis’ own. In Nelson’s words, both “Tolkien and Eddison wrote masterpieces of heroic fantasy whose values differed markedly.” 

Another distinction is that while Tolkien’s Lord of the Rings has maintained its mythic rigor, Eddison’s oeuvre feels rather anchored to the formative years of the genre, prior to the so-called Golden Age of science fiction (and fantasy).

If you would like to read this book, which was enjoyed by both Lewis and Tolkien, you can download a copy of it at Internet Archive. If you enjoy dwarves, goblins, manticores and hippogriffs, you are unlikely to be disappointed.

C.S. Lewis as a Weaver of Words

If you like to expand your vocabulary while opening up your mind with profound insights, search no farther than C.S. Lewis.

The celebrated Oxbridge professor possessed a great respect for words. Like his friend J.R.R. Tolkien, he believed they should never be summarily detached from the history which imbues them with meaning. In “Studies in Words,” he describes the poverty of such an approach.

I am sometimes told that there are people who want a study of literature wholly free from philology; that is, from the love and knowledge of words. Perhaps no such people exist. If they do, they are either crying for the moon or else resolving on a lifetime of persistent and carefully guarded delusion.

If we read an old poem with insufficient regard for change in the overtones, and even the dictionary meanings, of words since its date – if, in fact, we are content with whatever effect the words accidentally produce in our modern minds – then of course we do not read the poem the old writer intended. What we get may still be, in our opinion, a poem; but it will be our poem, not his. If we call this tout court [too short or shallow] “reading” the old poet, we are deceiving ourselves. If we reject as “mere philology” every attempt to restore for us his real poem, we are safeguarding the deceit.

Of course any man is entitled to say he prefers the poems he makes for himself out of his mistranslations to the poems the writers intended. I have no quarrel with him. He need have none with me. Each to his taste.

If you too are a logophile, a lover of words, there’s no need to hide it. Well, with a single exception. Like everyone else, I find it off-putting when I run into people who learn complex new words simply with the goal of using them in order to “impress” others.

It amazes me how some individuals who consider themselves quite intelligent, and wish to advertise their brilliance, fail to comprehend that ostentatious speech elicits the opposite impression. [Don’t mistake my writing style where I intentionally use the fullest range of our shared vocabulary – which I believe enriches our reading and minds – with the vanity I’m describing. The latter insults readers when self-important posers attempt to intimidate others with words that are unlikely to be known by their audience.]

If you would like to read a satirical piece I wrote ridiculing this tactic, you can download “Mastering Inkling Erudition” at academia.edu. It appeared in CSL, published by the New York C.S. Lewis Society and is subtitled “Sounding Like an Expert Without Accumulating Multiple Ph.D.s.”

C.S. Lewis, of course, possessed no such pretentions. At least none I am aware of after his conversion to Christianity. His use of language is rich and satisfying. It is also instructive. I’ve lost count of the number of words to which Lewis introduced me. 

One of my favorites, though I have never dared to use it, is “bathetic.” Upon reading this note from Merriam-Webster, I suspect you too may find it applicable to much that passes for contemporary literature.

When English speakers turned apathy into apathetic in the late 17th century, using the suffix -etic to turn the noun into the adjective, they were inspired by pathetic, the adjectival form of pathos, from Greek pathētikos.

People also applied that bit of linguistic transformation to coin bathetic. English speakers added the suffix -etic to bathos, the Greek word for “depth,” which in English has come to mean “triteness” or “excessive sentimentalism.” The result: the ideal adjective for the incredibly commonplace or the overly sentimental.

The word appears in The Abolition of Man, in which C.S. Lewis critiques the poor practices of some current authors of educational resources. I will italicize the specific text, but provide the full context because of its own merits.

[They] quote a silly advertisement of a pleasure cruise and proceed to inoculate their pupils against the sort of writing it exhibits. The advertisement tells us that those who buy tickets for this cruise will go ‘across the Western Ocean where Drake of Devon sailed,’ ‘adventuring after the treasures of the Indies,’ and bringing home themselves also a ‘treasure’ of ‘golden hours’ and ‘glowing colours.’

It is a bad bit of writing, of course: a venal and bathetic exploitation of those emotions of awe and pleasure which men feel in visiting places that have striking associations with history or legend. If [they] were to stick to their last and teach their readers (as they promised to do) the art of English composition, it was their business to put this advertisement side by side with passages from great writers in which the very emotion is well expressed, and then show where the difference lies.

They might have used Johnson’s famous passage from the Western Islands, which concludes: ‘That man is little to be envied, whose patriotism would not gain force upon the plain of Marathon, or whose piety would not grow warmer among the ruins of Iona.’ They might have taken that place in The Prelude where Wordsworth describes how the antiquity of London first descended on his mind with ‘Weight and power, Power growing under weight.’

A lesson which had laid such literature beside the advertisement and really discriminated the good from the bad would have been a lesson worth teaching. There would have been some blood and sap in it – the trees of knowledge and of life growing together. It would also have had the merit of being a lesson in literature . . .

And a Double Bonus: A New Word & a Psychological Disorder

A newly forged word is referred to as a neologism, and they can be fascinating. Modern technology has caused their number to explode. Some –  think “crowdsourcing” or “app” – are now ubiquitous.

Word lovers sometimes invent words. These, of course, rarely if ever find their way into public discourse. Take this example from a letter a young C.S. Lewis penned to his friend Arthur Greeves in 1916.

I know quite well that feeling of something strange and wonderful that ought to happen, and wish I could think like you that this hope will someday be fulfilled. . . . Perhaps indeed the chance of a change into some world of Terreauty (a word I’ve coined to mean terror and beauty) is in reality in some allegorical way daily offered to us if we had the courage to take it.

One final caution. If you do decide to become a neologist, run your ideas by people you trust. I just discovered the American Psychological Association has linked one expression of the practice to serious mental disorders!

neologism (updated on 04/19/2018)
n. a newly coined word or expression. In a neurological or psychopathological context, neologisms, whose origins and meanings are usually nonsensical and unrecognizable (e.g., klipno for watch), are typically associated with aphasia or schizophrenia. – neologistic adj.

Improve Your Writing with a Brevity Exercise

While we are unlikely to become another J.R.R. Tolkien or C.S. Lewis, it is quite possible to improve our literary skills.

There are numerous ways to strengthen our writing. One of my favorites is to “stretch” my abilities by engaging in exercises that push me far beyond my nonfiction comfort zone. More on the details in a moment.

C.S. Lewis prized brevity and clarity. Most readers do. I’ve written about this in “C.S. Lewis on brevity.” Before that, I had discussed brevity as a factor of “clear communication,” while focusing on the value of common semantics to avoid confusion.

I encourage you to read “In Defense of the Fairy Tale: C.S. Lewis’s Argument for the Value and Importance of the Fairy Tale.” The author cites Lewis’ reason for choosing the fairy tale as his genre for Narnia.

[Lewis] describes the invention process for the Chronicles of Narnia as first coming in mental images, “a faun carrying an umbrella, a queen on a sledge, a magnificent lion.” Next came the selection of a form in which to tell the story, one absent of a love interest or close psychology.

The form excluding these was the fairy tale. Lewis tells us that he fell in love with the form itself, “its brevity, its severe restraints on description, its flexible traditionalism, its inflexible hostility to all analysis, digression, reflections and ‘gas’” and the very limitations of the vocabulary.

He concludes, “I wrote fairy tales because the Fairy Tale seemed the ideal Form for the stuff I had to say,” not unlike the stone selected by the sculptor or the sonnet by the poet.

While I share the passage above at some length, my focus here is on Lewis’ observation that fairy tales are inherently “brief.” The fairy tale was, indeed, the “ideal Form” for C.S. Lewis’ classic stories from Narnia.

Even Briefer Genres

As a brevity-challenged individual (common for pastors), I like writing exercises able to make a dent in my innate verbosity. And what shorter option might one explore than a genre limited to a half dozen words?

Before embarking on my current challenge, let me give you a bit of background on the Six Word Story.

As Mark Twain famously wrote, “I didn’t have time to write a short letter, so I wrote a longer one instead.” Intense Minimalism provides similar inspiration from other earlier writers.

“Not that the story need be long, but it will take a long while to make it short.”
Henry David Thoreau,
“It is my ambition to say in ten sentences what others say in a whole book.”
Friedrich Nietzsche
“If I had more time, I would have written a shorter letter.”
Marcus Tullius Cicero (a predecessor of Samuel Clemens)
And back again to Mark Twain:
“If you want me to give you a two-hour presentation, I am ready today.  If you want only a five-minute speech, it will take me two weeks to prepare.”

C.S. Lewis was capable of writing long personal tomes to family and intimate friends. His correspondence with casual friends – such as Americans who sometimes sent food gifts during Britain’s post-WWII rationing – tended to be warm, but short. This was particularly true when his brother Warnie was not available to assist with his correspondence, as the following letters attest.

20th. January 1948
Dear Mr. Howard, This is really very handsome of you, and you could hardly have sent a more welcome gift. I have only to call your attention to the so-called ‘Superfine’ paper on which I am replying to give you some idea of the luxury of writing on a decent paper at last. But I’m afraid there is something which even American generosity cannot supply me with: an article called TIME, which was the cause of my previous letter! (its brevity I mean)

25th August 1949
Dear Dr. Allen Yet once again hearty thanks for a fine parcel which has arrived in excellent condition to-day. I don’t know how we should get on without you. My brother who drives the typewriter is away and my hand is nearly dropping off from letter writing, so you’ll forgive brevity – and the horrible scrawl! I’m none the less grateful inside!

Six Word Stories were popularized in the United States through association with Ernest Hemingway. However, it is an urban legend to credit him with this poignant example: “For sale, Baby shoes, Never worn.”

MasterClass offers a helpful lesson at “How to Write an Unforgettable Six-Word Story.” They actually suggest that you can drop a few of these into your writing day to renew your energy.  

Like other forms of short stories or flash fiction, a six-word story allows a reader to consume an entire narrative in just a moment’s time. If you’re trying to get in some short, but challenging, bursts of writing practice throughout your day, try writing six-word stories. These bite-sized narratives are fast and fun.

As for telling any sort of satisfying “story” in six words, it’s a bit of an hyperbole. However, that hasn’t stopped a number of people from making a literal career of promoting the genre. At the forefront of the movement is Six Word Memoirs.

Christians have likewise joined the club. For example, Six-Word Lessons to Discover Missional Living: 100 Lessons to Align Every Believer with the Mission of Jesus is volume  forty-three in “The Six-Word Lessons Series.”

Prior to learning about these companies, I thought it be fun to suggest that one you compose Six Words about the Christian Life. Still, since an idea can’t be copyrighted, you’re still free to market your own works in this genre.

Some of My Modest “Attempts”

One subgenre of Six Word Stories is Six Word Biographies. One website applies this to biblical personages. Among them:

Mary
“Behold the handmaid of the Lord.”
Esther
“For such a time as this.”

To which I dare to add: 

Jephthah (Judges 11-12)
“Rash vows bring about terrible tragedies.”
Jehosheba (Exodus 1-2)
“Moses’ mother, eclipsed by her daughter.”
Abednego (Daniel 1-3)
“I survived the fiery furnace too.”

Now, allow me to apply the technique to several other people. 

Jeanne d’Arc
“Heroic innocent, visionary warrior, martyred saint.”

Walt Disney
“Gifted Kingdom maker, buried, rolling over”

Grigori Rasputin
“Poisoned, shot, drowned, and ultimately, damned.”

George Washington
“Soldier, statesman, who shunned the throne.”

Bozo
“Dated humor, creepy antics, Krusty cosmetics.”

And, I close now with my personal favorite.

Larry Norman
“He was only visiting this planet.”

A half century hasn’t diminished the power of Norman’s message. (The titular lyrics are in the “Reader’s Digest” track on the record linked here.)

Fonts that Can Make Your Literary Dreams Come True

Would you be interested in owning a copy of an attractive new font called Middle Earth? If so, read on and you’ll find a link to download this typeface created by Swedish designer Måns Grebäck.

When it comes to fonts, there are basically two types of people – those who pay no attention to them as they read, and others who notice the nuances between similar fonts and are fascinated by extraordinary examples.

Longtime readers of Mere Inkling know I am in the latter category. Every year or two I actually write on the subject. I’ve discussed monastic fonts, legal fonts, trustworthy fonts, uninhibited fonts, a dyslexia font, a memory-enhancing font, fonts based on the handwriting of historical figures, and being a fontaholic.

The reason for my current interest in fonts is due to Microsoft’s decision to jettison Calibri as their default font for Office products. They needed to make room for its replacement, Aptos. Seriously, when you view the two sans serif* fonts, side-by-side, you may be surprised at how little they differ.

To make matters even more confusing, CNBC describes a curious aspect of Aptos saga.

Aptos will remain available in the font list under the old Bierstadt name for people who are accustomed to it. Users can also choose to set any other font as the default.

Apple’s mac computers also allow users to choose their own defaults. One typography community discusses this selection opportunity, even as they bemoan the fact that in many programs, the standard installations include suboptimal fonts.

Unfortunately, many of us work on computers where we have no control over what fonts are loaded onto the machine, so we have created a list of the top 10 most common system fonts everyone should know and how to handle them.

This website offers a brief description and history of ten of the most common fonts we typically encounter. For example:

Times New Roman is a serif typeface designed by Stanley Morison and Victor Lardent in 1931. It was commissioned by the British newspaper The Times, which wanted a new typeface to replace its existing font, Times Old Roman.

And I love their estimation of Comic Sans, one of my wife’s favorite fonts, which I avoid like the proverbial plague. (Delores is a young at heart special education teacher, and I’m more of a Lewisian dinosaur.) 

Do use: if you are designing a comic for 6-year-olds.
Don’t use: if you want to be taken seriously by work colleagues.

Another pastor, who learned this lesson the hard way, shared his advice with the warning: “pastors don’t let your bulletins print out in Comic Sans!”

Apparently, his astute wife preserved his professional reputation by telling him to (1) avoid using a “smorgasbord of fonts” in a single document, and (2) “resist the temptation to print serious things in less than serious fonts.”

Advice for Writers

While authors have little control over the fonts in which their work is published by commercial publishers, they do have freedom to choose the typeface they use for the actual composition. “How To Choose the Best Font for Your Writing” addresses that latitude in the following way.

Do you have a favorite font? Are you dedicated to Times New Roman, or are you more of an “anything-but-Wingdings” kind of writer? Maybe you haven’t given your choice of font much thought.

Quite simply, as research shows, texts that look good make you feel good while interacting with them. This is why it’s so important to choose a font that not only is easy to read, optimizes line length, and has the right mood, but also is one that you like!

MasterClass describes the various aspects of each font that will contribute to your overall impression of each font. In “Typography for Writers: How to Pick the Best Type for Writing,” they explain the significance of bowls, ascenders, spines, counters, and more.

Typographers and type designers have their own universe of special terms, each of which refers to a specific part of a given letter. Understanding these basic elements of typography can help you decide precisely what typographic style you want to employ to grab your reader’s attention.

InDesignSkills goes so far as to match a number of typefaces to specific genres, saying “we judged the legibility, beauty, simplicity and variety of weights available of a huge range of fonts, and whittled them down to these faithful five.” They even offer an ironclad promise, proclaiming their selection will “never let your typesetting down, guaranteed.”

Obviously, personal tastes play a large role in appreciating or disapproving of various fonts. One author describes how the quest for the perfect font is integral to writers’ creativity.

Let’s talk about one of our favourite writing avoidance devices: picking the right font for your manuscript.

The Best and Worst Fonts (and why they’re good or bad),” describes the bond a writer can develop with their typographic fancies.

Fonts are one of the most important design choices to make when developing your brand identity. The best fonts leave you feeling like you’ve made an instant friend while the worst fonts are like a stranger who won’t leave you alone.

The writer offers her personal preferences (and prejudices). I don’t agree with all of her judgments, but I am forced to concur with her inclusion of Jokerman and Bleeding Cowboys on the list of “worst fonts.” And I am pretty sure that C.S. Lewis would agree.

Write in the Spirit of Middle Earth

If you have read this far, your reward is to receive the download link for Middle Earth. 

As noted aboved, Måns Grebäck is a prolific Swedish typographer. He makes many of his creations freely available to individuals for non-commercial use. (Commercial licenses are available as well.) The independent FontSpace describes it thusly:

With the historic charm of ancient manuscripts and the ethereal beauty of elven realms, Middle Earth typeface weaves tales of valor and legends. Its calligraphic allure is accentuated by rounded contours, reminiscent of Tolkien’s enchanted worlds.

Middle Earth truly is ethereally elegant. Enjoy.


* Sans serif fonts are those without serifs, which are the tiny lines or marks that appear at the end of a character’s stroke. Arial would be a common sans serif font, while Times New Roman is a familiar serif font.

C.S. Lewis and Time’s Meaning

What is time, and why are we subject to its ofttimes harsh burdens? After his conversion from atheism, C.S. Lewis discovered some comforting truths about time, and the limits of time’s constraints.

Each year the four seasons seem to pass more rapidly. Before we know it, our parents have gown old, and we may well have children of our own. In retrospect, it all happens in the proverbial flash.

Ultimately, there will come a day when our lives reach their own “winter,” and even our most precious memories may drift away from us in time’s relentless breeze.

The C.S. Lewis Institute has an interesting article titled “The Point at which Time Touches Eternity.” They quote some wisdom from The Screwtape Letters, and end with a query which can help us live happier lives.

As you think about your own life, do you sometimes think too much about the Past or the Future, and not chiefly attend to the Present and Eternity?

Lewis answers that very question in his essay “Historicism.” He acknowledges that too often we become slaves to the regrets of our past and the dread of challenges awaiting us in the future. He reminds Christians that “God will supply every need of yours according to his riches in glory in Christ Jesus” (Philippians 4).* Therefore, Lewis encourages us to throw off the bondage of past and future, since “where, except in the present, can the Eternal be met?”

Janie Cheaney recently wrote “Eternity in Our Hearts” for World Magazine. Inspired by Saint Augustine and C.S. Lewis, it is subtitled “What if time astonishes us because we are meant to one day live outside of it.”

More of Lewis’ Thoughts about Time

In Mere Christianity, Lewis describes our universal human experience. “Our life comes to us moment by moment. One moment disappears before the next comes along: and there is room for very little in each. That is what Time is like.” He then describes just how limited our perspective is.

And of course you and I tend to take it for granted that this Time series – this arrangement of past, present, and future – is not simply the way life comes to us but the way all things really exist. We tend to assume that the whole universe and God himself are always moving on from past to future just as we do. But many learned men do not agree with that. Almost certainly God is not in Time. His life does not consist of moments following one another . . .

If you picture Time as a straight line along which we have to travel, then you must picture God as the whole page on which the line is drawn. We come to the parts of the line one by one: we have to leave A behind before we get to B, and cannot reach C until we leave B behind. God, from above or outside or all around, contains the whole line, and sees it all.

In Miracles, C.S. Lewis describes God’s transcendence over time as our Creator’s “eternal Now.”

It is probable that Nature is not really in Time and almost certain that God is not. Time is probably (like perspective) the mode of our perception. There is therefore in reality no question of God’s at one point in time (the moment of creation) adapting the material history of this universe in advance to free acts which you or I are to perform at a later point in Time.

To Him all the physical events and all the human acts are present in an eternal Now. The liberation of finite wills and the creation of the whole material history of the universe (related to the acts of those wills in all the necessary complexity) is to Him a single operation. In this sense God did not create the universe long ago but creates it at this minute – at every minute.

That is pretty deep. The sort of stuff that philosophers love to ponder and debate. Even before his conversion to Christianity, while still clinging to his formal atheism, Lewis contemplated time’s role in existence. In 1918 he wrote to his close friend Arthur Greeves about these matters. 

You see the conviction is gaining ground on me that after all Spirit does exist; and that we come in contact with the spiritual element by means of these “thrills.” I fancy that there is Something right outside time & place, which did not create matter, as the Christians say, but is matter’s great enemy: and that Beauty is the call of the spirit in that something to the spirit in us. You see how frankly I admit that my views have changed.

Sheldon Vanauken (1914-1996) was an American author who preserved in A Severe Mercy several of C.S. Lewis’ letters of consolation following the death of Sheldon’s wife. In some ways, the Vanauken story foreshadowed Lewis’ own marriage and widowhood. Pointing toward the Resurrection, Lewis wrote the following.

You say the materialist universe is “ugly.” I wonder how you discovered that! If you are really a product of a materialistic universe, how is it you don’t feel at home there? Do fish complain of the sea for being wet? Or if they did, would that fact itself not strongly suggest that they had not always been, or would not always be, purely aquatic creatures?

Notice how we are perpetually surprised at Time. (“How time flies! Fancy John being grown-up & married! I can hardly believe it!”) In heaven’s name, why? Unless, indeed, there is something in us which is not temporal.

C.S. Lewis writes much more about time, but we will conclude here with two passages that use the metaphor of author to describe God’s nature. The first comes from an essay entitled “The Seeing Eye.”

My point is that, if God does exist, He is related to the universe more as an author is related to a play than as one object in the universe is related to another. If God created the universe, He created space-time, which is to the universe as the metre is to a poem or the key is to music.

To look for Him as one item within the framework which He Himself invented is nonsensical. If God – such a God as any adult religion believes in – exists, mere movement in space will never bring you any nearer to Him or any farther from Him than you are at this very moment.

You can neither reach Him nor avoid Him by travelling to Alpha Centauri or even to other galaxies. A fish is no more, and no less, in the sea after it has swum a thousand miles than it was when it set out.

This final quotation appears in Mere Christianity. It is most certainly true, and my hope is that all who read this post will come to celebrate this joy. Both now, and for eternity.

God is not hurried along in the Time-stream of this universe any more than an author is hurried along in the imaginary time of his own novel. He has infinite attention to spare for each one of us.

He does not have to deal with us in the mass. You are as much alone with Him as if you were the only being He had ever created. When Christ died, He died for you individually just as much as if you had been the only man in the world.


* This gracious, eternal gift is available to all people.