Category: Family

Dogs & Rescues

On By robstroudIn Animals, C.S. Lewis, Christian Life, Family, J.R.R. Tolkien, Modern Life, Nature17 Comments

When we add an un-homed dog to our family, who is the true “rescuer?” In the States, we call many of our agencies placing orphaned pets “rescue centers.” But I believe most of us who have welcomed such creatures into our homes feel less pride in doing what’s noble, than we do appreciation for what these loving animals bring into our lives.

Long ago, I learned that the best way to tell about a person’s true character and compassion is to observe how they treat animals.

 Nothing I’ve witnessed in the past decades has caused me to question that conviction.

Recently I saw a quote attributed to Abraham Lincoln which expresses the same sentiment. 

“I care not for a man’s religion
whose dog and cat are not the better for it.”

While the attribution of these words to America’s sixteenth president may be questioned, they are certainly consistent with his regard for dogs . . . and, as the quotation declared, cats as well.

Four of our most recent six dogs have been rescues. All but one has been a border collie.

The latest girl who joined our family, just last year, was promoted on a Border Collie Rescue page. She appeared to be a young mix with, of all things, a dalmatian.

When we traveled to meet her, we immediately suspected she lacked any border collie DNA, but we (and our older border collie) connected with her that day and she came home with us. A year later, we’re certain she’s just, as our vet assessed, a mutt – but that’s fine with us. The picture at the top of this page shows her resting on her adoptive mom’s lap. (Many of her black spots have spread since we first got her when she resembled the victims of Cruella de Vil.)

I’ve written in the past about how C.S. Lewis loved dogs. It’s no surprise, of course, that a good-natured man of faith like Lewis would love animals.

J.R.R. Tolkien also loved dogs. They are featured in a number of his books, and a canine named Rover featured as the protagonist of his 1925 children’s story, Roverandom.

A Caution

Pay attention to how people treat animals. It is a clue to their psyche and a window into their soul. 

While some people are indifferent to animals, which is normal, there are those who treat them with cold disregard or animosity. The message of “The Link Between Cruelty to Animals and Violence Toward Humans” confirms what we all recognize intuitively.

People who hurt animals don’t stop with animals. There is an established link between cruelty to animals and violence toward humans . . .

This link makes it critically important that cruelty toward animals be taken seriously by law enforcement, and by society at large. This is for the sake of the animals themselves, and for people who are also at risk. . . .

Ample research backs up the finding that there is a direct link between acts of cruelty to animals and violence toward humans. This includes child abuse, domestic violence, elder abuse and other violent behavior.

There are good people, and bad people. Fortunately, in the case of the treatment of pets, the former outnumber the latter. One day, when Earth is made new and restored to its initial goodness, all life will once again be in harmony. As we hear in Psalm 148 and Revelation 5,

Praise the Lord from the earth,
    you great sea creatures and all deeps,
fire and hail, snow and mist,
    stormy wind fulfilling his word!
Mountains and all hills,
    fruit trees and all cedars!
Beasts and all livestock,
    creeping things and flying birds!

And I heard every creature in heaven and on earth and under the earth and in the sea, and all that is in them, saying, “To him who sits on the throne and to the Lamb
be blessing and honor and glory and might forever and ever!”

Until that day, let us each act with compassion toward the creatures that enrich our lives, particularly those who trust us to protect their welfare.

A Closing Thought

Sometimes the word “rescue” applies literally. More than one lonely and clinically depressed person has stopped contemplating the ending of their life when a gentle support animal brought light to their dark world. 

Then there is the recent case of Buford, a ranch dog who found a two-year-old boy lost in a desert wilderness and remained with him overnight until he could lead him safely home.

As for who rescues whom, count me in the camp of those who believe the gift is mutual.

C.S. Lewis & Emotions

On By robstroudIn Books, C.S. Lewis, C.S. Lewis & the Inklings, Christian Life, Christianity, Counseling, Faith, Family, Grandparenting, Humor, Literature, Marriage, Ministry, Modern Life, Narnia, Publishing13 Comments

Are you one of those people who pride themselves on not being particularly emotional? Probably not, since the pendulum has swung far in the opposite direction in our current day. (Consider how few clicks a Tik Tok influencer with “flat affect” would get.)

Most of us know some people (most commonly men – forgive me the generalization) who keep their emotions under tight rein.

Back when I was a child, in the mid-twentieth century, it was not uncommon for men to “guard” their notion of masculinity by acting emotionless. And various ethnicities, including my own ancestors, possessed a reputation for being staid.

I can’t recall my Norwegian grandfather, who died when I was about ten, ever expressing truly warm sentiments. I know he must have laughed, and my grandmother had a great sense of humor, but I have no memory of it.

For some reason, many people picture C.S. Lewis as an emotionally sober intellectual. Perhaps it’s because he wrote so many profound essays. The truth is that Lewis was extremely jovial and fun-loving. I have noted some of this humor in the past.

Like most of us, C.S. Lewis’ closest friends saw him most clearly. They witnessed his jocularity in their regular gatherings. His fellow Inklings witnessed it frequently, but I don’t see how anyone can read the Chronicles of Narnia, and perceive their author as reserved, much less grave.

One reason some readers misunderstand C.S. Lewis’ exquisite sense of humor is because it is British. For Americans, for example, appreciating British humor is an acquired taste. As reported by the BBC, the wit often includes elements of “sarcasm, understatement [and] self-deprecation.”

In The Screwtape Letters, C.S. offers an insight into one of the Tempter’s tactics in undermining human nature, in terms of being fashioned in the image of our Creator.

[Englishmen] take their “sense of humour” so seriously that a deficiency in this sense is almost the only deficiency at which they feel shame. Humour is for them the all-consoling and (mark this) the all-excusing, grace of life.

Hence it is invaluable as a means of destroying shame. [. . .] A thousand bawdy, or even blasphemous, jokes do not help towards a man’s damnation so much as his discovery that almost anything he wants to do can be done, not only without the disapproval but with the admiration of his fellows, if only it can get itself treated as a Joke.

And this temptation can be almost entirely hidden from your patient by that English seriousness about Humour. Any suggestion that there might be too much of it can be represented to him as “Puritanical” or as betraying a “lack of humour.”

Lewis’ humor was on full display to his intimate friends, and uninhibitedly on display to the world in a number of his writings. But his openness didn’t end there. 

Just Like the Rest of Us:
a Person of Humor and Grief

I don’t recall anyone labeling C.S. Lewis a “humorist” – likely because his corpus is so diverse and complex – but I think a literary critic could make that case.

Ironically, I once cited an autobiographical reference in which C.S. Lewis applied that very attribute to his own father, a serious solicitor.

In contrast, C.S. Lewis would mature to the point where he was willing to expose that deepest of emotions, grief, with the entire world. In A Grief Observed, he explored his pain in the wake of his wife’s untimely passing. Joy Davidman was the precious wife this confirmed bachelor never anticipated having, and her death crippled him.

His description of his thoughts, doubts, and spiritual struggle in the aftermath has helped many others to survive the nightmare of bereavement. Curiously, for privacy C.S. Lewis initially used a pen name for the volume. (You can read about that here.)

He did not wish to have his authorship of the book distract from its subject matter. He would have known that would only be a temporary tool, since pseudonyms are nearly always uncovered. Initially, however, it was so effective that when it was published, readers recognized it could speak to Lewis’ own grief, and offered him gift copies.

T.S. Eliot was one of its first advocates for the volumes publication, and you can read that story at Faber & Faber.

A Final Lewisian Observation on Emotions

Some people view the intensity of emotions associated with events to be a measure of their validity. If my passions are aroused by an activity, we incorrectly think, it must be real!

This error is particularly dangerous when related to so-called “matters of the heart” and matters of faith. 

C.S. Lewis was cautious in both realms. We already noted his resignation to live out his life as a single man. In terms of faith, he was just as circumspect. His conversion from atheism to Christianity was long, thoughtful, and reluctant. 

And this, I found, was something I had not wanted. But to recognize the ground for my evasion was of course to recognize both its shame and its futility.

I know very well when, but hardly how, the final step was taken. I was driven to Whipsnade [Zoo] one sunny morning. When we set out I did not believe that Jesus Christ is the Son of God, and when we reached the zoo I did.

Yet I had not exactly spent the journey in thought. Nor in great emotion. “Emotional” is perhaps the last word we can apply to some of the most important events.

It was more like when a man, after long sleep, still lying motionless in bed, becomes aware that he is now awake. And it was, like that moment on top of the bus, ambiguous.

Freedom, or necessity? Or do they differ at their maximum? At that maximum a man is what he does; there is nothing of him left over or outside the act.

Certainly, many people are blessed with emotional confirmation in their spiritual lives. The obvious peril, of course, is in evaluating the veracity of something by how giddy it makes us feel. 

After all, there will always come “dark nights of the soul” when the feelings have fled . . . but Jesus, still remains.  

Divine Christmas Gifts

On By robstroudIn C.S. Lewis, Christian Life, Christianity, Family, Grandparenting, The Ancient Church16 Comments

I hope everyone was pleased with the gifts they may have received during their Christmas celebrations. As grandparents, my wife and I delighted in the presence of our children and grandchildren as we celebrated together Jesus’ Nativity.

Which raises the subject of the proverbial “reason for the season.” My hope is that Mere Inkling’s friends will know the deep and lasting joy of receiving our Creator’s most precious gift.

In 1958, C.S. Lewis wrote to an American correspondent about one obstacle to receiving God’s gifts. He cited an observation by Saint Augustine that if we are too busy grasping less important things, we can miss out on what is truly priceless.

St. Augustine says “God gives where He finds empty hands.” A man whose hands are full of parcels can’t receive a gift.

Augustine was an ancient African bishop. One of his Christmas sermons has survived and remains quite inspiring sixteen centuries after it was first preached. I encourage you to bask in the glow of the following excerpt.

So then, let us celebrate the birthday of the Lord with all due festive gatherings. Let men rejoice, let women rejoice. Christ has been born, a man; he has been born of a woman; and each sex has been honored.

Now therefore, let everyone, having been condemned in the first man [Adam], pass over to the second. It was a woman who sold us death; a woman who bore us life. The likeness of the flesh of sin [Romans 8] has been born, so that the flesh of sin might be cleansed and purified.

And thus it is not the flesh that is to be faulted, but the fault that must die in order that the nature may live; because One has been born without fault, in whom the other who was at fault may be reborn.

Rejoice, you just; it is the birthday of the Justifier. Rejoice, you who are weak and sick; it is the birthday of the Savior, the Healer. Rejoice, captives; it is the birthday of the Redeemer.

Rejoice, slaves; it is the birthday of the one who makes you lords. Rejoice, free people; it is the birthday of the one who makes you free. Rejoice, all Christians; it is the birthday of Christ.

Rejoice, one and all. God’s undeserved gift to each of us, for all those willing to receive it, is forgiveness and eternal life. 

In his book The Problem of Pain, C.S. Lewis elaborates on the Augustinian analogy shared above.

Everyone has noticed how hard it is to turn our thoughts to God when everything is going well with us. We “have all we want” is a terrible saying when “all” does not include God. We find God an interruption.

As St Augustine says somewhere, “God wants to give us something, but cannot, because our hands are full – there’s nowhere for Him to put it.” Or as a friend of mine said, “We regard God as an airman regards his parachute; it’s there for emergencies but he hopes he’ll never have to use it.”

Now God, who has made us, knows what we are and that our happiness lies in Him. Yet we will not seek it in Him as long as He leaves us any other resort where it can even plausibly be looked for. While what we call “our own life” remains agreeable we will not surrender it to Him.

What then can God do in our interests but make “our own life” less agreeable to us, and take away the plausible sources of false happiness? It is just here, where God’s providence seems at first to be most cruel, that the Divine humility, the stooping down of the Highest, most deserves praise.

Remember friends, our celebration of the Messiah’s entrance into our world is not limited to a single day, or even a brief season. Every single day we can rejoice at the miracle of the Incarnation and the fact that God loved us enough to send his Son to redeem us.

A New Source of Oxygen

On By robstroudIn C.S. Lewis, Education, Family, Modern Life, Nature8 Comments

Most of us have a basic affinity for oxygen. And, air quality being what it is in many places, it is probably good news that there is a newly discovered source on the bottom of the sea.

This morning I asked my ten year old grandson what I should blog about. I said it could be even something like a new discovery (since C.S. Lewis was such a renaissance man that I can find some link to diverse subjects in his writings).

Since it’s summer, and school’s on hiatus, I was surprised when he said something of which I was unaware. “I think they found oxygen coming from some minerals in the ocean.” Odd, I thought, but since he often surprises me with his knowledge, I checked it out. 

It’s true. Not only does the ocean produce huge amounts of oxygen via algae and the like, but they have recently discovered a source of “dark oxygen.” According to Smithsonian Magazine,

Twelve thousand feet under the ocean surface is a world of eternal midnight. No sunlight can penetrate to this depth to promote photosynthesis, so no plants are producing oxygen there.

Yet, the life-supporting gas is abundant in this darkness-cloaked region, thanks to an unlikely oxygen factory: potato-sized, “battery rocks” on the seafloor.

Those eager to learn more about this wonder can read the entire study, “Evidence of Dark Oxygen Production at the Abyssal Seafloor”  for free in Nature Geoscience.

The necessity of ready access to oxygen is obvious to everyone who knows basic biology. Actually, it isn’t the oxygen molecules [O], which we require, it is actually dioxygen [O2]. We also recognize our primary partners in this gloriously balanced process of exchange (where we trade off our carbon dioxide [CO2] in exchange for the O2) are the various plants God has distributed throughout our world. 

Curiously, oxygen only makes up a small portion of our atmosphere. According to the National Institute of Medicine,

The composition of environmental air is approximately 78% nitrogen, 21% oxygen, 1% argon, and trace percentages of other gases, such as carbon dioxide, neon, methane, helium, krypton, hydrogen, xenon, ozone, nitrogen dioxide, iodine, carbon monoxide, and ammonia.

I’m no scientist, but personal experience with pneumonia, and with training in a military Hypobaric (Altitude) Chamber, have taught me not to take the availability of oxygen for granted.

This fact was reinforced for C.S. Lewis during the final days of his life, as is true for many people. American Nathan Comfort Starr (1896-1981) was an Arthurian scholar. He would later write an Introduction and Commentary for Lewis’ Till We Have Faces in the Religious Dimension in Literature series. Shortly before Lewis’ death, Starr asked if he might be up to a visit from a friend. Lewis’ response evidenced a peaceful resignation to his own passing.

Term will never again begin for me. Last July I was thought to be dying, oxygen-tent and Last Unction and everything en règle.

I am now retired and immobilised on one floor of this house. But glad to be visited (an hour or so) if such an extinct volcano as I now am is worth visiting (4 September 1963).

In Out of the Silent Planet, the first volume of C.S. Lewis’ space trilogy, the protagonist travels to the planet Malacandra. Philologist Edwin Ransom is kidnapped before the voyage and his captors refuse to answer any of his questions.

“Don’t talk,” he said. “We have discussed all that is necessary. The ship does not carry oxygen enough for any unnecessary exertion; not even for talking.”

After landing, Ransom escapes and flees as far as his air lasts in the planet’s thin atmosphere. Nearing the end, a member of one of the intelligent species (Hnau) inhabiting Malacandra, rescues him. Presumably other races also sometimes require supplemental oxygen.

Stretching back into the cave, it took from the wall what looked like a cup. Then Ransom saw that it was attached to a length of flexible tube. The sorn put it into his hands.

“Smell on this,” it said. “The hrossa also need it when they pass this way.” Ransom inhaled and was instantly refreshed. His painful shortness of breath was eased and the tension of chest and temples was relaxed. . . .

“Oxygen?” he asked; but naturally the English word meant nothing to the sorn.

Oxygen is a precious gift to us from our Creator. So too is the scholar and atheist-turned-apologist, C.S. Lewis. 

Just as the revelations of natural creation are ceaselessly amazing, the lessons learned from C.S. Lewis’ life and works continue to inspire others. And, sometimes a little child’s awareness of recent news will lead others into new knowledge.

Meandering Words

On By robstroudIn Advice to Writers, C.S. Lewis, Family, History, Nature, Roman History, Words, Writing12 Comments

Sometimes we read for business. Other times we read for pleasure. Few people are so fortunate as to have these two purposes overlap.

When the goal is the former – the necessity of reading a particular document, our desire is usually to simply “get it done.” We want to arrive quickly at the point, so we can move on to some other project. In this context, digressions are definitely something to be avoided.

This is how military writers are taught to do their job. Deliver the goods immediately, with zero interest in the prose. (Well, apart from proper grammar and spelling.) This principle is frequently described with the acronym BLUF – bottom line up front. This approach makes sense, when lives can literally be on the line and the need to make sound decisions swiftly is urgent.

The Harvard Business Review puts it bluntly: “In the military, a poorly formatted email may be the difference between mission accomplished and mission failure.” Being the HBR, they naturally translate this concept for application in the business world.

If you are curious, you can freely download some of the military writing manuals available online. Warning: these manuals tend to include lots of tedious details that ironically appear to violate the BLUF principle itself!

Army Regulation 25–50 Preparing and Managing Correspondence

DOD Manual 5110.04, Correspondence Management

Canadian Armed Forces Junior Officer Development Programme

Similar to the military approach, we have the civilian version, which remains common in traditional journalism. (Even though printed newspapers continue to vanish, this approach is still found in many digital outlets.) This technique is referred to as the Inverted Pyramid Structure. Here is one concise definition:

The inverted pyramid is the model for news writing. It simply means that the heaviest or most important information should be at the top – the beginning – of your story, and the least important information should go at the bottom. And as you move from top to bottom, the information presented should gradually become less important.

The benefit of this strategy is that readers immediately learn the primary “news.” Only when they desire to supplement that information do they need to continue reading. Presumably the material follows in descending significance until they either finish the piece or it descends into minutiae of no interest to that particular reader.

The previously linked article notes one extremely important aspect of the inverted pyramid [emphasis added].

The inverted pyramid format turns traditional storytelling on its head. In a short story or novel, the most important moment – the climax – typically comes about two-thirds of the way through, closer to the end. But in news writing, the most important moment is right at the start of the lede.

And it is this traditional sort of storytelling to which we most often turn when we read for pleasure rather than as an obligation.

Reading for Enjoyment

Pleasurable reading is not, by definition, expeditious. It takes its time to tell a story, rather than rushing into a rapid information dump. In fact, when the narrative is savaged by unloading too much background or too many facts, it becomes hard to enjoy even when we want to like it.

Literature, even brief poetry, takes us on a journey. We go somewhere. We are transformed, albeit usually in an unmeasurable way. While the change may be small, it is quite distinct from the difference made by simply learning new facts.

While the journey itself may appear straightforward, in most cases there are often subtle alterations in its course. You might say a story intentionally tends to meander, which is why I titled this post as I have. Meander itself is a curious word.

Like so many words, meander has a literal and a figurative application. In a moment we will see each of these meanings entertainingly illustrated in C.S. Lewis’ correspondence.

I began thinking about this intriguing word when I recently read about its source. It begins with an ancient kingdom in Asia Minor (modern day Türkiye). Lydia was independent for half a millennia before its king, Croesus, was defeated by Cyrus of Persia. One of Lydia’s lasting contributions to civilization came in the form of the minting of coinage.

Herodotus tells us they were the first to do so. This is, of course, a captivating story in its own right.One of the images used on one of their early coins was of the Maeander River, which meandered through their kingdom. The picture above, View of Maeander Valley, was published by Flemish artist Cornelis de Bruyn in 1714.

Did C.S. Lewis Meander?

Searching through Lewis’ writings, I did not find any examples of his use of this winding word. (Let me know if you’re aware of one.)

However, here are two enjoyable examples of his informal use of “meander” in his correspondence. The first, in a 1920 letter to his father, uses the word in its figurative sense.

I have two tutors now that I am doing ‘Greats,’ one for history and one for philosophy. . . . We go to the philosophy one in pairs: then one of us reads an essay and all three discuss it. . . . it is very amusing.

Luckily I find that my previous dabbling in the subject stands me in good stead and for some time I shall have only to go over more carefully ground through which I have already meandered on my own.

In the second occurrence, we find C.S. Lewis writing to his Brother Warnie in 1932. He describes, at some humorous length, the condition of the pond on their property. You can visit this same setting today in the C.S. Lewis Nature Reserve.

I have included the full discussion below. Suburbanites (and even more so, city-dwellers) may not be able to appreciate this story the way that people who have lived in the country can. Still, those with a minute to read the entire passage will likely enjoy the way Lewis meanders through his description of events. Oh, and lest you suffer unnecessary shock, be forewarned that Lewis uses the word “bathe” here not to refer to a “bath,” but to a plunge in the pond.

You will gather from this that summer has arrived: in fact last Sunday (it is Tuesday to day) I had my first bathe. You will be displeased to hear that in spite of my constant warnings the draining of the swamp has not been carried out without a fall in the level of the pond.

I repeatedly told both [the workmen] that the depth of water in the pond was sacrosanct: that nothing which might have even the remotest tendency to interfere with that must be attempted: that I would rather have the swamp as swampy as ever than lose an inch of pond.

But of course I might have known that it is quite vain ever to get anything you want carried out: and the pond is lower. However, don’t be too alarmed. I don’t think it can get any lower than it is now.

I don’t know how much of the draining operations Minto [Janie Moore] has described to you nor whether you understood them. In fact, remembering what a mechanical process described by Minto is like I may assume that the more she has said the less you know about it.

The scheme was a series of deep holes filled with rubble and covered over with earth. Into each of these a number of trenches drain: and from each of these pipes lead into the main pipe now occupying the old ditch between the garden and the swamp, which in its turn, by pipes under the lawn, drains into the ditch beside the avenue.

It was however useless to do all this as long as the overflow outlet from the pond (you know – the tiny runnel with the tiny bridge over near the Philips end of the pond) was meandering – as it did – over all the lower parts of the swampy bit. Nor was it possible to stop this up and deny the pond any outlet, as it would then have been stagnant and stinking in summer, and overflowing in winter.

It was therefore decided to substitute a pipe outlet for the mere channel outlet – which pipe could carry the overflow from the pond, through the swampy bit without wetting it, to the rest of the drainage system. When they first laid this pipe I said that its mouth (i.e. at the pond end) was too low and that it would therefore carry off more water than the old channel and so lower the pond.

The workmen shortly denied this but I stuck to my point and actually made them raise it. Even after they had raised it I was still not sure that it wasn’t taking off more water than the old channel did: so I have now had a stopper made which is in the mouth of the pipe at this moment. I have also given the spring-tap up beyond the small pond a night turned on, and I trust that by thus controlling in-flow and outflow of water I can soon nurse the pond back to its old level.

At any rate I don’t see how it can sink as long as its escape is bunged up. As to the degree of loss at present, as there are no perpendicular banks anywhere it is hard to gauge. I should think that the most pessimistic episode could hardly be more than ¾ of a foot: i.e. a difference one is unconscious of in bathing. Still I grudge every inch.

By the way, it has just occurred to me that the sinking may not be due to the draining at all: for the old ‘channel’ escape, when I looked at it just before the operations began, had certainly widened itself extremely from what I first remembered, and must have been letting out more than it ought. In that case the new pipe may have arrested rather than created a wastage.

One criticism some short-attention-span readers levy against Tolkien’s masterpiece, Lord of the Rings, is that too much time is spent traveling. Such critics overlook the reasons the author presented his saga in the manner he did. Well, for those desiring to simply jump from battle to battle, we now have graphic novels. All of the journeying in LOR has a purpose; it is far from mere “meandering.”

Tolkien detailed the travails of the Fellowship during their quest, and his maps allow students of the mythos to discern “Frodo and Sam traveled over a thousand miles from the Shire to Mount Doom in the Lord of the Rings trilogy, over multiple landscapes and terrains.” One of the colorful words created by Tolkien, that rolls off the tongue like a babbling brook, is the name of a river that crosses the Old Forest: Withywindle. (A withy is an Old English word for a willow, or slender twigs or branches.) Its course may not have been especially winding, but it definitely sounds like it should have been.

No one can deny the influence of J.R.R. Tolkien on fantasy literature. But the aforementioned shortening attention spans do deter some readers. Make no mistake about it, however, the traveling in the writings of the Inklings is not without purpose. Nor does it disrupt the story. Still, the less skilled among us should be cautious about mimicking their techniques. One author describes this hazard in the following way.

Ultimately, when you write, your goal should be to make sure that everything you write doesn’t meander, or in other words, moves in some way towards the conclusion of your story. Be that taking care of a subplot, a character arc . . . whatever, it needs to hit a step, or move towards it, on the path to the ultimate ending of your story.

Remember both pacing and the up and down of rising and falling tension. A meandering story stretches out a low point and breaks the pacing. You always want to keep your plot on a straight line to the ending. The characters, they can wander, as long as the plot doesn’t.

Thanks for meandering with Mere Inkling today. Isn’t it wonderful that God allows us these carefree moments, and life isn’t all about “getting things done?”

C.S. Lewis and Time’s Meaning

On By robstroudIn C.S. Lewis, Christian Life, Family, History, Modern Life, Nature, Roman History28 Comments

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.

Suffering Caused by Labeling Children

On By robstroudIn C.S. Lewis, Christian Life, Christianity, Counseling, Family, Good Music, Great Authors, Modern Life, Music, Words19 Comments

Kids are often cruel, dishing out insults and rude nicknames to those they deem “different.” Sadly, not everyone outgrows this ugly behavior. As C.S. Lewis wrote in The Four Loves,

We hear a great deal about the rudeness of the rising generation. I am an oldster myself and might be expected to take the oldsters’ side, but in fact I have been far more impressed by the bad manners of parents to children than by those of children to parents.

I recently discovered an artist whose music reveals the pain caused by this cruelty. In “Not My Name,” Matt Sassano describes how we can move beyond the wounds of our past. For we all understand these hurtful words possess power.

These are the scars
     that I’m forced to live with,
These are the scars
     that mark me as a misfit . . .

Who among us does not bear scars from past struggles? Who among us has never been ridiculed by others?

Despite having a loving mother who sheltered me from much of life’s traumas, I bear my own scars. That’s one reason this song powerfully resonated with me. 

But there is a stronger reason I am touched by “Not My Name.” It’s because, as a pastor I have seen far, far too many women and men who remain buried beneath their pain.

I found healing in God’s grace. The scars now cause me little discomfort, though the memories remain. And I have found healing often begins when people who have endured life’s onslaughts learn they are not alone. 

This man shares a heart just like their own.

These are the scars
     that I am forced to live with
So pick me apart
I won’t fit the mold that you fit
But thеre’s a warrior inside me
That you playеd a part in building
Because you made me understand.

About staying strong when you’ve fought so long
In a world that tells you you don’t belong
Living in the shadow of all your flaws
Where it’s hard to be seen for who you are.

And, the emotionally and spiritually wounded can see how someone suffering like them can proclaim this liberating truth:

So label me
Call me by my pain
That’s not my name
That’s not my name.

I’m so much more
     than your throw away
That’s not my name
That’s not my name. . . .

You won’t sentence me
Your words are dead to me
I know my suffering
     is not my identity.

As impressed as I was with this song, it means all the more now that I learned something about Sassano’s life.

The Sins of the Father

A short biography reveals some of the reason for Sassano’s plaintive spirit. 

He was the son of an unfit pastor, whose anger and abuse crushed his childhood faith. His search for meaning “was intensified by the experience of living with two disabilities: Cerebral Palsy and dyscalculia (which impairs brain functions like navigation and mathematics).

“I spent much of my early life in and out of doctor’s offices and disability meetings, which led me to struggle with my self-perception and self-esteem.”

It is this tragic youth which directly inspires his video “Dear God.” Released in 2022, it reminds me of the lamentations we find in the Scriptures, particularly the Psalms and Jeremiah. In Madeleine L’Engle’s forward to C.S. Lewis’  lamentations in A Grief Observed, she expresses gratitude for his honest treatment of grief’s violence. 

I am grateful to Lewis for the honesty of his journal of grief, because it makes quite clear that the human being is allowed to grieve, that it is normal, it is right to grieve, and the Christian is not denied this natural response to loss.

I am grateful, too, to Lewis for having the courage to yell, to doubt, to kick at God . . . This is a part of healthy grief not often encouraged. It is helpful indeed that C.S. Lewis, who has been such a successful apologist for Christianity, should have the courage to admit doubt about what he has so superbly proclaimed. It gives us permission to admit our own doubts, our own angers and anguishes, and to know that they are part of the soul’s growth.

The video amplifies the power of the lyrics of “Dear God.” So, do watch it.

I’ve got questions, confessions
I just want peace of mind
Time’s fading and I’m waiting
For something I can’t find
I am overwhelmed
Can I endure this hell?
No way to break the spell
I’ll spill my heart again

Dear God
I’ve lost the will to fight
Please give me a sign
I’m empty inside
Got no strength to carry on
The plague has multiplied
It’s eating me alive
How can I survive?
Dear God

Much like C.S. Lewis’ book describing the loss of his wife, Sassano’s songs can help bring healing to those in similar pain. Even if you don’t need to listen to these songs . . . trust me, there is someone you know and care about, who does!

“Not My Name” Lyric Video

“Dear God” Music Video

Father Christmas & Crackers

On By robstroudIn Christian Life, Christianity, Church History, Family, Humor, J.R.R. Tolkien, Modern Life9 Comments

J.R.R. Tolkien wrote, for his children’s enjoyment, an entertaining little story about Father Christmas’ stash of explosives. Read on to see what a mischievous polar bear did with them.

Merry Christmas. No, I’m not late in wishing you a blessed celebration of Christ’s Nativity. The church calendar recognizes Christmas is too big to celebrate just for a single day. The Inklings knew it – Christmas is a season.

One nineteenth century invention has become a part of many families’ celebration of the season. They’re called “Christmas crackers,” and although birthed in Britain, they’ve found a home in many other countries. We adopted them as an annual tradition after living in England for several years.

Their beginning was modest. While many now lack edible treats, they were conceived as a means for selling confectionaries. Their inventor wanted to increase sales of a French treat.

For seven years he worked to develop the bon-bon into something more exciting, but it was not until he sat one evening in front of his fireplace that his great idea came to him. Watching the logs crackle, he imagined a bon-bon with a pop.

He made a coloured paper wrapper and put in it another strip of paper impregnated with chemicals which, when rubbed, created enough friction to produce a noise. He knew that bangs excited children (and were said to frighten evil spirits) – and the mottoes and poems he inserted inside the crackers amused adults (BBC).

Sadly, many of the crackers marketed today have been neutered. To improve their safety (and, no doubt, save production costs), some crackers no longer crack. They contain no “chemicals” to produce the customary bang. Seems like a misnomer to call these variants crackers, at all.

Tolkien’s Father Christmas Letters

Tolkien and his wife were blessed with four children, and they were doting parents. Each Christmas between 1920 and 1943, the famed author wrote and illustrated a pseudonymous letter to his kids. In 1976 they were posthumously published, and facsimiles of the correspondence appears in some editions of the letters.

They offer an intimate insight into the secular side of a Christian family’s celebration of the holiday (holy day). In fact, on Christmas Eve this very year, a selection from the letters was part of the Royal Carol Service, celebrated at Westminster Abbey.

The Christmas story was told in readings from Luke 2 given by The Prince of Wales and by Michael Ward. Jim Broadbent read from JRR Tolkien’s The Father Christmas Letters, and Leonie Elliot read Growing Tomorrow, a poem by Children’s Laureate Joseph Coelho commissioned specially for the service.

The following excerpt from the 1931 letter comes from the pen of Father Christmas himself. (It also features a fun notation from North Pole Bear.)

I should hardly feel it was Christmas if [the North Polar Bear] didn’t do something ridiculous. You will never guess what he did this time! I sent him down into one of my cellars – the Cracker-hole we call it – where I keep thousands of boxes of crackers (you would like to see them, rows upon rows, all with their lids off to show the kinds of colours.)

Well, I wanted 20 boxes, and was busy sorting soldiers and farm things, so I sent him; and he was so lazy he took his two Snowboys (who aren’t allowed down there) to help him. 

They started pulling crackers out of boxes, and he tried to box them (the boys’ ears I mean), and they dodged and he fell over, and let his candle fall right POOF! into my firework crackers and boxes of sparklers.

I could hear the noise, and smell the smell in the hall and when I rushed down I saw nothing but smoke and fizzing stars, and old Polar Bear was rolling over on the floor with sparks sizzling in his coat: he has quite a bare patch burnt on his back.

[NPB] It looked fine! That’s where Father Christmas spilled the gravy on my back at dinner!

The Snowboys roared with laughter and then ran away. They said it was a splendid sight – but they won’t come to my party on St. Stephen’s Day; they have had more than their share already.

The story goes on, relating the troublesome exploits of “two of the Polar Bear’s nephews” who have been visiting. However, the passage above suffices to illustrate the humor resident in the Tolkien household.

And, in light of this vignette, we just may have uncovered why modern manufacturers are forgoing the more explosive elements of Christmas crackers. No “pop,” no “poof.”

And, if you have a creative bent, consider making your own for next year!

A More Peaceful Time

On By robstroudIn C.S. Lewis, Christian Life, Family, History, Interfaith Issues, Islam, Just War, Modern Life, Roman History, The Future, Theological Matters12 Comments

It seems like a dream, when I recall a college course I took where Jews and Muslims peacefully discussed the turbulent history of the Middle East. And how we discussed that sad story in a cordial, and even sympathetic, manner.

The contrast between that day and 2023 – when people cannot even agree that tiny infants should not suffer for the sins of their parents – is mind-bending.

We assume that all people desire peace. Would that it were so. In his essay “First and Second Things,” C.S. Lewis offers a timely insight.

As far as peace (which is one ingredient in our idea of civilization) is concerned, I think many would now agree that a foreign policy dominated by desire for peace is one of the many roads that lead to war.

I was an undergrad at the University of Washington in the mid-1970s, when I saw a graduate level course with a fascinating title: “Wars that have Shaped the History of the Middle East.” My high school friend and I “begged” the professor to allow us into the class. He cautioned us that he would have the same requirements for us as he did for everyone else; there would be no mercy extended if we failed to meet the syllabus’ demands.

“No problem,” we said . . . although, being young procrastinators, at the end of the quarter we foolishly required a couple of all-nighters to complete our comprehensive term papers.

We, both Christians, were the only undergraduates in the small class. Our professor was Jewish, as were two of the students. One of these, was Israeli. He was, in fact, a veteran of the recent Yom Kippur War, during which he had served as the commander of a tank. I don’t recall which front on which he fought, but when you look at a map of Israel, it’s clear that every part of that small nation is a potential combat zone.

The remaining members of the class consisted of three Muslim students. One was American and a second was Iranian (back when the Shah was still in power). The third Islamic member of the class taught at a Seattle community college. He was Palestinian. And not merely Palestinian – his family was displaced during the 1948 Arab-Israeli War, which is referred to by the Israelis as the War of Independence.

You can imagine that with a group like that, opinions were deeply entrenched. Yet, although the preexisting opinions were indeed fixed, the individuals were not obstinate. Conversations were civil. Disagreements were conducted with reason rather than emotion. And, most surprisingly of all, we were able to socialize together at the end of the course.

It was a different world, apparently. It’s challenging to conceive of partisans today being capable of treating others with such respect. The last half century has marked a steep decline in the humanity of humanity.

Anti-Semitism is a Curse

It is strange to ponder how we’ve come to define antisemitism, confining it to anti-Jewish sentiment. After all, the word Semite refers to all people who speak a Semitic language, including Arabs.

Etymologically, Semite “comes via Latin from Greek Sēm ‘Shem,’ son of Noah in the Bible, from whom these people were traditionally supposed to be descended.”

If you are interested in an excellent article titled “C.S. Lewis’s Anti-Anti-Semitism in The Great Divorce,” simply follow the link embedded here.

Israel’s Wars

There has been no shortage of blood shed on the land the Romans called Judea and Arabia Petraea. And the history of the past seventy-five years have been violent indeed. For a description of all of the wars and military operations involving Israel, see this website.

We students each had to select one of the Middle Eastern regional wars to research in depth. We also had to make a detailed presentation and lead the discussion based on general readings completed by everyone.

As soon as I saw that requirement in the syllabus, my mind was mired in confusion over which of Israel’s wars would be the least controversial. Fortunately, as I read further I discovered that the purview of the course did not begin with the end of the Palestine Mandate, which was administered by Britain. Due to the influence of the Ottoman Empire, which had overshadowed the region until the end of the First World War, the professor elected to begin the course with the relatively nonconfrontational consideration of the Crimean War. I was the first student to raise my hand and voice my preference.

During the Palestine Mandate, C.S. Lewis had a number of former students serving in the Levant. In a 1940 letter to his brother Warnie, he describes a pleasant visit from one of these who went on to serve in a political capacity throughout the region for several more decades. This statesman refers to a fellow student who would go on to teach at East Anglia University.

I had a visit one night last week from Pirie-Gordon back from leave from Palestine, where (and in Egypt and Turkey) he says everything is “as good as gold.” The last riot was quelled by the cavalry regiment in which Rivière serves . . . In fact as P.G. said “I raised the riot and Rivière quelled it.”

I wonder how the members of the class would relate to one another if we were reunited for a discussion of what has transpired since 1975. With members of the American government at each other’s throats on our nation’s response to Hamas’ war, I doubt our discussions would be as respectful as they were back in the twentieth century. Still, conversations – even painful ones – need to happen if people are ever to get along with one another. That’s true not only for nations, but also for neighbors, and families.

I recommend two things to move us in the right direction. Honest communication, where we do a lot of listening. And prayer. The fact we do so poorly with the first, makes the second all that more essential.

An Author with the Heart of an Inkling

On By robstroudIn Advice to Readers, Books, C.S. Lewis, C.S. Lewis & the Inklings, Christian Life, Christianity, Dorothy Sayers, Family, Great Authors, J.R.R. Tolkien, Modern Life, Ordained Ministry, Reading, The Modern Church, Theological Matters, Writing7 Comments

C.S. Lewis and Frederick Buechner never met, yet they are “friends” because they share so many similarities as authors writing from a Christian perspective. In terms of Buechner’s themes and range of his writings, this award winning American author and ordained Presbyterian minister may have as much in common with C.S. Lewis as his own British Inklings. So let me introduce Frederick Buechner and his writings.

Do you read primarily to relax and allow your imagination to soar? Or, do you normally select “useful” books, with the potential to be applicable to meeting the challenges of real life?

During my college years, I enjoyed scifi and fantasy. I still have a weak spot for alternative histories. But my seminary years had a subtle effect on my reading. With time always at a premium as a young pastor with a family, I had so many practical, pastoral books and journals to study, that I seldom had time for something so frivolous as “fiction.” Fortunately, semi-retirement has released me from that restrictive literary diet.

I’ve finally found some time to unpack a few of the boxes of books sitting in my garage. (The fact we moved them into the garage around 2010 would be embarrassing if it got out, so I ought not to mention it here.)

As one would expect, I’ve encountered many pleasant surprises. A number of books I had been missing have turned up, I’ve found some that are even more timely today than when they were stored, and—best of all in the minds of my adult children—I’ve been able to part with about two-thirds of the titles, and recently donated about 150 volumes to a local charity.

One of the titles I am currently reading is Frederick Buechner’s Telling Secrets. I had picked up a copy when it was highly recommended to me, only to discover it was a memoir. Being a “practical pastor” who always had too many utilitarian books to read, I set it aside . . . only to pick it up twenty years later.

And what a joyous surprise it has been. Buechner is in his nineties, and is widely respected. He has been a prolific writer, and has received numerous awards for his fictional works. Readers, particularly from the Reformed branch of Christianity have been especially fervent fans of the Presbyterian pastor and theologian. My friend, Brenton Dickieson is quite fond of Buechner and has written about him in A Pilgrim in Narnia on several occasions. He notes that Buechner quotes a number of the Inklings, including Tolkien, Williams and Lewis.

I vaguely recall the Lewis connection being one reason my fellow Air Force chaplain recommended Telling Secrets to me. But I had forgotten that the first section is entitled “The Dwarves in the Stable.” This is, of course, an allusion to an extremely momentous scene in The Final Battle, the final volume of the Chronicles of Narnia. It was originally published as an independent essay, as this entertaining post points out.

Buechner shares a dark family secret, the consequences of his father’s suicide in 1936. Listen to how movingly he describes the secret’s power:

His suicide was a secret we nonetheless tried to keep as best we could, and after a while my father himself became such a secret. There were times when he almost seemed a secret we were trying to keep from each other.

Buechner moves on to relate the suffering the family experienced during his daughter’s battle with anorexia. He shares few details, since “it is not mine to tell but hers.” Nevertheless, he describes setbacks in the struggle causing him to feel as though he “was in hell.”

I choose the term hell with some care. Hell is where there is no light but only darkness, and I was so caught up in my fear for her life, which had become in a way my life too, that none of the usual sources of light worked any more, and light was what I was starving for. . . .

I remained so locked inside myself that I was not really present with them at all. Toward the end of C.S. Lewis’s The Last Battle there is a scene where a group of dwarves sit huddled together in a tight little knot thinking that they are in a pitch black, malodorous stable when the truth of it is that they are out in the midst of an endless grassy countryside as green as Vermont with the sun shining and blue sky overhead.

The huge golden lion, Aslan himself, stands nearby with all the other dwarves “kneeling in a circle around his forepaws” as Lewis writes, “and burying their hands and faces in his mane as he stooped his great head to touch them with his tongue.” When Aslan offers the dwarves food, they think it is offal.

When he offers them wine, they take it for ditch water. “Perfect love casteth out fear,” John writes (1 John 4:18), and the other side of that is that fear like mine casteth out love, even God’s love. The love I had for my daughter was lost in the anxiety I had for my daughter.

This is just a single example of the sensitive wisdom Buechner shares throughout this grace-filled work.

After I finish Telling Secrets, I look forward to reading two of Buechner’s novels already on my shelf, Godric and Brendan. They are both historical fiction, telling the stories of two sainted monks from the twelfth and sixth centuries respectively.

I encourage any of you unfamiliar with his writings to explore his work. If an autobiography can be this good, I’m eager to take a journey through what I have no doubt will be quite an adventure in his fiction.

Buechner possesses an additional connection to C.S. Lewis, which has the potential to last centuries. He describes his decision to offer his personal papers to Wheaton College, where they are available in the archives. The theologian describes his decision in this humble manner.

Wheaton College [has] a great collection there of the manuscripts and papers of people like C.S. Lewis, G.K. Chesterton, George MacDonald, J.R.R. Tolkien, Dorothy Sayers, and the like, and because I could think of no more distinguished company than theirs among whom to have my own literary remains molder, a year earlier I had offered them everything I had stowed away over the years in cardboard boxes and scrapbooks and manila folders; and to my delight they said that they would be delighted to have it.

If you would enjoy learning more about the relationship between Buechner and the Inklings, check out this fine article; “C.S. Lewis and Frederick Buechner: Literary Expression of Faith” is available for download. It’s quite enlightening.

Bonus Insight

The second chapter of Telling Secrets is entitled “The White Tower.” Many Inkling fans will jump to the conclusion (especially after reading this post) that it is a reference to the citadel of Minas Tirith, the capital of Gondor. Like me, they would be incorrect.

Buechner is not alluding here to Tolkien’s masterpiece. On the contrary, he is referring to the central tower which was the old keep of the Tower of London. Ironically, that very keep, the White Tower, was built by a Norman monk who became the Bishop of Rochester. His name . . . Gundulf.

Buechner chose this metaphor for the human condition for the following reason.

I think here of the Tower of London. More particularly I think of that oldest part of it, known as the White Tower, which was built by William the Conqueror in the eleventh century. On the second floor of it there is a small Norman chapel called the Chapel of Saint John. It is very bare and very simple. It is built all of stone with twelve stone pillars and a vaulted ceiling.

There is a cool, silvery light that comes in through the arched windows. . . . The chapel is very silent, very still. It is almost a thousand years old. You cannot enter it without being struck by the feeling of purity and peace it gives. If there is any such thing in the world, it is a holy place.

But that is not all there is in the White Tower. Directly below the chapel is the most terrible of all the tower’s dungeons. It has a heavy oak door that locks out all light and ventilation. It measures only four feet square by four feet high so that a prisoner has no way either to stand upright in it or to lie down at full length. There is almost no air to breathe in it, almost no room to move. It is known as the Little Ease.

I am the White Tower of course. To one degree or another all of us are.