Archives For C.S. Lewis

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Few writers attain their full potential without the advice and encouragement of others.

C.S. Lewis and J.R.R. Tolkien recognized that fact.

For many years they gathered regularly with a number of other keen minds, almost all of whom shared their Christian faith. (Notably, Owen Barfield who was an Anthroposophist, was a notable exception.)  Some writers visited the community as guests.

I’ve written in the past about the great benefit provided by Inkling-style literary criticism. It’s all about synergy.

Mount Hermon Christian Writer’s Conference is one of the premier gatherings of its sort. After many years of hoping to attend, my wife and I journeyed to California for its Fiftieth Anniversary this past week. What a blessing!

In addition to hundreds of zealous writers, the conference was attended by twoscore publishers, agents and writing experts who generously shared their vast knowledge. And I use that word “generously” in a literal sense. The faculty made itself accessible to a degree I have never before witnessed (and I am a veteran of innumerable professional conferences). The speakers were sincerely interested in encouraging each and every participant.

Classes were available for writing novices, journeymen and experts. I found the track on screenwriting to be the most helpful for my own current needs. I hope to put these new lessons into practice in the next few years.

I can confidently assure you that Mount Hermon will also offer the sort of advice and encouragement that you need to advance your own skills to the proverbial “next level.” If you are interested in attending Mount Hermon, you can learn more here.

Back on the Home Front

If you have never enjoyed the benefits of gathering locally with other writers, I strongly encourage you to consider it now.

If you’re on a critique-group-hiatus due to past disappointments, why not look for a fresh group with a healthier focus?

I sincerely believe most of us become better writers while growing together, than we do wandering on our own. Mount Hermon reinforced that conviction.

I encourage each of you to reach your own full potential—with a little help from some new friends.

Medical Science and God

April 8, 2019 — 1 Comment

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In his essay entitled “Miracles,” C.S. Lewis described during World War II the Christian viewpoint that God is the author of healing. After discussing the natural order of creation, he argues that God is at work in restoring the health of the those who are ailing.

The miracles of healing [are] sometimes obscured for us by the somewhat magical view we tend to take of ordinary medicine. The doctors themselves do not take this view. The magic is not in the medicine but in the patient’s body.

What the doctor does is to stimulate Nature’s functions in the body, or to remove hindrances. In a sense, though we speak for convenience of healing a cut, every cut heals itself; no dressing will make skin grow over a cut on a corpse.

That same mysterious energy which we call gravitational when it steers the planets and biochemical when it heals a body is the efficient cause of all recoveries, and if God exists, that energy, directly or indirectly, is His. All who are cured are cured by Him . . .

No veteran of World War I trenches would have been unacquainted with the horrors of grievous wounds. Much less a soldier, like C.S. Lewis, who was wounded by an artillery shell that killed a friend standing next to him.

That is why every combat veteran can stand in joyful awe at a science fiction healing tool that is being created a century after the war to end all wars. (Peter Jackson, of Middle Earth fame, just released a moving film about the war. You can listen to Michael Medved’s review of “They Shall Not Grow Old.”.)

The Healing of a Cut

I recently learned about an amazing wave of research related to the relatively new concept of 3D Printing. Even as new applications for these three-dimensional printers are exploding (they even make prostheses!), a variation of the technology is being developed to heal living skin.

Now, this is not like a medicine or bandage of some type. The process actually involves “printing” new skin by laying down layer after layer of one’s own cells over a wound.

Sounds like science fiction, doesn’t it? In fact, my first thought upon reading about it, went to the most elementary of Star Trek healing devices—the dermal regenerator. And, apparently, I wasn’t alone.

In the Star Trek universe, dermal regenerators are so commonplace that no one has a second thought as gaping wounds are closed in the blink of an eye—by merely pointing a high-tech tool at the injury. (You may be thinking it sounds a bit like a magic wand . . . because fantasy and science fiction are close cousins.)

You can read a description of the scientific report in Nature magazine.

In contrast to manual cell seeding or cell spraying, bioprinting has the capability to deliver cells to specific target sites using layer-by-layer freeform fabrication, and it has been applied in numerous applications.

If you’ve ever known someone who suffered from severe burns, you will be pleased to learn “this technology has a wide application, and its application will be expanded to not only treat full-thickness wounds, but also for other types of wounds such as burns and ulcers, and even for deep tissue injuries.”

The Power of Science

Science is a precious gift from God, so long as it “uses its powers for good.” When people begin to look to science for answers it cannot provide, they can devolve into the sort of “scientism” that C.S. Lewis decried.

Science, however, in its purest and most true form, is a wondrous thing. In English Literature in the Sixteenth Century, Lewis discusses the work of Richard Hooker (1554-1600). It’s clear they share this same sentiment.

All good things, reason as well as revelation, nature as well as Grace, the commonwealth as well as the Church, are equally though diversely, “of God.” . . . All kinds of knowledge, all good arts, sciences, and disciplines come from the Father of lights and are “as so many sparkles resembling the bright fountain from which they rise”

In that spirit, I invite you to include in your prayers not only medical personnel and caregivers, but all of those brilliant minds and skilled hands devoted to using science to heal and to support God’s gift of life.

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If you are curious about a 1950s perspective on the sexual mores of life on a Martian base, you are in for a rare treat.

Although C.S. Lewis’ foray into science fiction is best seen in his Space Trilogy, which begins with Out of the Silent Planet, he also penned a curious short story about courtesans in outer space. Lewis did not raise this rather tawdry subject, but he was responding to a serious argument for the practice, made by an American astronomer.

But First, a Quick Apologia

My posts have been fewer during recent months due to competing demands on my time. Most of these distractions are good, like watching over my wonderful brood of grandchildren. Another special pleasure has been working on a chapter for a book that will probably be published in a year or so. It deals with Theology and Star Trek.

I’ve been a fan of Star Trek ever since I watched the first episode that aired, back on September 8, 1966. Thus, it’s no surprise that my enthusiasm has seeped into Mere Inkling.

Earlier this year I posted a piece related to Star Trek, in which I censured a human version of the Klingon practice of eating animals while they are still alive. And five years ago, I wrote about “Humanity’s Interstellar Exodus” and referred to Star Trek’s utopian view of the universe.

I have always enjoyed science fiction. It was, in fact, via C.S. Lewis’ Space Trilogy that I was introduced to the great writer. Lewis wrote in so many diverse genres. There are many paths that can motivate readers to explore his writings further, ultimately being invited to consider issues of faith and eternity.

That’s one reason I celebrate the fact that Netflix (admittedly a company without altruistic motivation) is going to be filming new productions set in Narnia.

According to the deal between Netflix and The C.S. Lewis Company, the streaming service will develop stories from the Narnia universe into series and films that the producers hope will cross mediums, similar to what the Star Trek and Marvel franchises have done with their successful properties.

Back to Mars

In the mid-fifties of the last century, Robert S. Richardson broached the question of what life would be like for the first humans to live on Mars. There are several flaws in Richardson’s presuppositions. The first is his gender-bias, which postulates “a station of several hundred young unmarried men.”

In addition, although the challenges of travel move some theorists to view the residents as quasi-permanent colonists, Richardson’s proposal is based on an estimate that “puts the round trip at nearly three years [which] includes a stay on Mars of 449 days.” He does note that due to the cost, “a man who volunteers for Mars must do so with the expectation of remaining a minimum of, say, five years on the planet.”

At the end of the article he raises his concern for the sexual needs of “normal, healthy young men.” His solution is to consider jettisoning the “moral attitudes” of his day. “To put it bluntly, may it not be necessary for the success of the project to send some nice girls to Mars at regular intervals to relieve tensions and promote morale?”

In order to address “the greatest threat to the success of the interplanetary project [which is] the gnawing absence of the opposite sex,” he argues:

Is it not conceivable that in an entirely alien environment survival will produce among other things a sexual culture—shocking on Earth—which would be entirely “moral” judged by extraterrestrial standards?

Ironically, the erosion of moral standards in the Western world appear to make his argument rather moot. Nonetheless, the essential argument elicited a creative response from C.S. Lewis. Richardson’s article had appeared in The Magazine of Fantasy and Science Fiction, and it was to that same pulp journal that Lewis responded.

Lewis’ article was chosen for republication in the 1959 anthology The Best from Fantasy and Science Fiction, where it was introduced as “perceptive, human, and warmly comic. It is dated, of course, but well worth a read. And, it specifically addresses the issues raised by Richardson.

The arrival of two women at the Mars base is unexpected. But the powers that be on Earth decided that the men must be in need of Aphrodisio-Therapy, and sent two volunteers. One was rather elderly and morbidly obese. The other was a shrill psychology professor from a “modern” university.

The following scene features a conversation between the Captain (Mars base commander) and the presumably Scottish commander of the ship upon which the women arrived. It begins with the Captain being stunned that the two candidates presented for the novel role were quite ill-suited to it.

The Captain seemed at first wholly occupied with its comic side. ‘Still,’ he said at last, ‘it has its serious side too. The impertinence of it, for one thing! Do they think—

‘Ye maun recall,’ said Ferguson, ‘they’re dealing with an absolutely new situation.’

‘Oh, new be damned! How does it differ from men on whalers, or even on windjammers in the old days? Or on the North West Frontier? It’s about as new as people being hungry when food was short.’

‘Eh mon, but ye’re forgettin’ the new light of modern psychology.’

‘I think those two ghastly women have already learned some newer psychology since they arrived. Do they really suppose every man in the world is so combustible that he’ll jump into the arms of any woman whatever?’

‘Aye, they do. They’ll be sayin’ you and your party are verra abnormal. I wadna put it past them to be sending you out wee packets of hormones next.’

‘Well, if it comes to that, do they suppose men would volunteer for a job like this unless they could, or thought they could, or wanted to try if they could, do without women?’

‘Then there’s the new ethics, forbye.’

‘Oh stow it, you old rascal. What is new there either? Who ever tried to live clean except a minority who had a religion or were in love? They’ll try it still on Mars, as they did on Earth. As for the majority, did they ever hesitate to take their pleasures wherever they could get them? The ladies of the profession know better. Did you ever see a port or a garrison town without plenty of brothels? Who are the idiots on the Advisory Council who started all this nonsense?’

C.S. Lewis’ insights into human nature are far more accurate than those of our previous writer, who assumes morality is so arbitrary that it can be modified according to location. “The minority,” as Lewis rightly points out through the voice of his protagonist, will seek to live according to high moral standards . . . whether they reside in Montreal, Mumbai, on Mars or in the Delta Quadrant of the Milky Way Galaxy.

Read More about Aphrodisio-Therapy

Both of the works discussed above are available online. Read the essay and story in full at the Internet Archives.

The Day After We Land on Mars

Ministering Angels


Did you know there is a crater on Mars named Malacandra, in honor of C.S. Lewis?

 

C.S. Lewis & Scrabble

February 12, 2019 — 9 Comments

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It’s not uncommon for people who love words to also enjoy the game Scrabble.

The word game, born in 1933, is quite popular. In fact, the Hasbro company claims “today the SCRABBLE game is found in three of every five American homes.”

The game made enough of an impact in New York City, that the neighborhood where it was conceived is adorned with the distinctive Scrabblesque street sign shown above.

C.S. Lewis was also a fan of the game. He and his wife Joy played the game regularly. But they modified the rules, to allow for their particular intellects. Doug Gresham, their son, describes this in The Magic Never Ends: The Life and Works of C.S. Lewis.

They played word games with each other. They had their own rather unique rules for Scrabble. They would take one board and both sets of letters from two Scrabble sets. And then they would proceed to play Scrabble, allowing all known languages, whether factual or fictional, and they would fill the whole board with words.

Jack, Joy & Their Love of Words

The third volume of The Collected Letters of C.S. Lewis includes two references to the way Scrabble became a familiar feature of their married life. In the first, written in July of 1957, he describes the situation at the beginning of Joy’s remission.

It is fascinating in several ways. It describes Lewis’ own declining health and the manner in which God had used it to be a blessing in their relationship. The shock, however, comes in Lewis’ confession about who was the Scrabble champion at The Kilns.

Joy is now home, home from hospital, completely bed-ridden. The cancer is ‘arrested,’ which means, I fear, hardly any hope for the long term issue, but for the moment, apparently perfect health, no pain, eating & sleeping like a child, spirits usually excellent, able to beat me always at Scrabble and sometimes in argument.

She runs the whole house from her bed and keeps a pack of men not only loving her but (what’s rarer) one another.

We are crazily in love.

My back turns out to be not slipped disc but osteoporosis–a spongy condition of the bones that is common in men of 75 but almost unknown at my age (58). After full investigation by a great Professor of Pathology the cause remains quite obscure. It has passed the stage of spasms and screams (each was rather like having a tooth out with no anaesthetic and you never knew when they were coming!), but I still ache a good deal and need sleeping draughts.

Can you realise the good side? Poor Joy, after being the sole object of pity & anxiety can now perform the truly wifely function of fussing over me–I’m in pain and sit it out–and of course the psychological effect is extremely good. It banishes all that wearisome sense of being no use. You see, I’m very willing to have osteoporosis at this price.

The fact that Jack and Joy were truly “crazily in love,” made the brevity of their life together all the more poignant and precious. In July of 1960, Lewis wrote to inform a friend of Joy’s passing.

Dear Mrs Gebbert, Alas, you will never send anything ‘for the three of us’ again, for my dear Joy is dead. Until within ten days of the end we hoped, although noticing her increasing weakness, that she was going to hold her own, but it was not to be.

Last week she had been complaining of muscular pains in her shoulders, but by Monday 11th seemed much better, and on Tuesday, though keeping her bed, said she felt a great improvement; on that day she was in good spirits, did her ‘crossword puzzle’ with me, and in the evening played a game of Scrabble.

At quarter past six on Wednesday morning, the 13th, my brother, who slept over her, was wakened by her screaming and ran down to her. I got the doctor, who fortunately was at home, and he arrived before seven and gave her a heavy shot.

At half past one I took her into hospital in an ambulance. She was conscious for the short remainder of her life, and in very little pain, thanks to drugs; and died peacefully in my company about 10.15 the same night.

I could not wish that she had lived, for the cancer had attacked the spine, which might have meant several days of suffering, and that she was mercifully spared.

You will understand that I have no heart to write more, but I hope when next I send a letter it will be a less depressing one.

This letter suggests that Joy’s final evening in this world was a happy one. It was filled with warm and family domesticity. Under the circumstances, who could hope for more. As Lewis writes, it would only be for our own selfishness that we would wish to prolong the suffering of those we love.

I would be curious to learn whether Lewis ever again played Scrabble during those final few years of his own life. I suspect that it would have been too painful. Best to recall the game in light of the affectionate competition the two of them shared.

What Do People Call You?

February 4, 2019 — 13 Comments

sobriquetNearly everyone has a sobriquet, even those who don’t know what it is.

C.S. Lewis knew what they are, of course, and he created his own at a young age.

Sobriquet is a French word for moniker (which is, itself, traced back to Shelta, a covert language of Irish gypsies). In more common parlance, a sobriquet or moniker is simply a nickname.

C.S. Lewis loved dogs. This is significant because his earliest nickname—the self-appointed one—derived from a dog he cared for during his youth. As his stepson relates the story:

When he was a small boy, he didn’t like the name [Clive] and soon changed it to “Jacksie” by simply refusing to answer to anything else. It was actually because of a small dog that he was fond of that he picked the name Jacksie . . .

It was run over (probably by a horse and cart as there were almost no cars at the time and place where he was a child), and Jack, as he later became known, just took the name for himself. (Jack’s Life)

C.S. Lewis’ Personal Sobriquet

Jacksie wasn’t Lewis’ only childhood sobriquet. He and his brother Warnie embraced a pair of titles that have a delightful source. Warnie was “Archpiggiebotham” and Jack was “Smallpiggiebotham.” A footnote in volume one of The Collected Letters of C.S. Lewis explains the names.

Jack sometimes addressed Warnie as “APB” and, in turn, Warnie addressed his brother as “SPB.” When Warnie and Jack were very young their nurse, Lizzie Endicott, when drying them after a bath, threatened to smack their “pigieboties” or “piggiebottoms.”

In time the brothers decided that Warnie was the “Archpiggiebotham” and Jack the “Smallpiggiebotham” or “APB” and “SPB.” Thereafter they used these terms of one another, particularly in their correspondence.

Like most famous individuals, Lewis collected a variety of (not always flattering) nicknames as he rose to what passed for celebrity status in Oxford. (I’ve written about how some of his peers resented his reputation—probably due to envy.)

Inkling Sobriquets

The Inklings were a richly creative community. Tollers (Tolkien) shared the limelight with Lewis. Tolkien’s self-assumed epithet was “a hobbit in all but size.”

Charles Williams adopted the nickname Serge, by which some of his most intimate friends addressed him. His collected letters to his wife were published under the title of both of their nicknames, To Michal from Serge.

In Oxford Inklings, Colin Duriez writes, “nicknames and the use of last names were common in Oxford, perhaps reflecting the enduring influence of the private schools that most students and teaching staff of that time had experienced.” Sadly, I’ve yet to find a place where these names were compiled.

David Downing, author of Looking for the King does mention several. On his website he lists the members of the Inklings. He says of one faithful member, who was also C.S. Lewis’ physician:

[Robert] Havard became one of the most regular attendees at Inklings meetings and seems to have collected the most nicknames. Hugo Dyson started calling him “Humphrey,” and the name seems to have been used more than Havard’s Christian name. (The physician mentioned briefly in Lewis’s novel Perelandra is called “Humphrey.”)

Havard was also called the “Useless Quack” or “U.Q.” by Warren Lewis and the “Red Admiral” by C.S. Lewis when he returned from World War II service at sea wearing a ruddy beard. [Editor: I’m confident Warnie meant Useless Quack affectionately.]

That the Inklings were fond of nicknames is evidenced by the fact they even bestowed a nickname on the Eagle and Child pub where they gathered. They called it the Bird and Baby.

C.S. Lewis: The Paternal Professor

I will close with a passage from one of Lewis’ students whose recollections are preserved in the collection, C.S. Lewis Remembered. It is significant in part because it challenges the false criticisms of Lewis biographer A.N. Wilson. It is noteworthy this description comes from a student who remained a devoted atheist who regarded “religious propositions as not even erroneous, but simply as meaningless.”

All Lewis’ most interesting tutorial students would turn up [for his literary discussions]. A.N. Wilson reported complaints that Lewis delighted in “verbal bullying” and was unapproachable and daunting as a tutor. Not in my time. The suggestion that Lewis could be “intimidating” would have raised incredulous laughter in this group. His affectionate sobriquet was “Papa Lewis.”

What a wonderful nickname for a brilliant professor. Would that we all might have had an opportunity to study at the feet of Papa Lewis.

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I recently read something quite disturbing about human beings. Something that revealed we have in common with Klingons and Ferengis one of their most disgusting traits. These people eat living creatures while they’re still alive (redundancy intentional).

Gene Roddenberry, creator of the Star Trek universe, foresaw a future in which humanity would rise above its omnivorous ways. “Replicated” food could still take the form of meat, but it would just be made of assorted atoms. The epitome of this view is found in Star Trek: The Next Generation. There, Commander William T. Riker declares to a diplomat from a race that consumes living mammals, “we no longer enslave animals for food purposes.”

In Roddenberry’s dream, humans have attained utopia on Earth. One way other races reveal their inferiority is by their diet. In addition to larvae and slugs, a main part of the Ferengi diet consists of squirmy Tube Grubs.* The more aggressive Klingons prefer assorted mollusks and their staple, the appropriately named Gagh. Gagh could be eaten cold or cooked, but the “serpent worms” were preferred live.**

I had deluded myself to think the devouring of living creatures was relegated to science fiction and the predators of the animal world. Sadly I recently learned about two Asian meals that merit the same stigma.

Goong ten is a Thai meal known as “dancing shrimp,” because the crustaceans are devoured alive.

In the Northeast Thailand region of Isaan, cooks often serve meat raw . . . Street vendors sometimes take the uncooked element one step further, selling a dish known as “dancing shrimp” (goong ten) from double-basket carts. On one side, seasonings await. On the other, a heap of small, translucent shrimp try in vain to escape from beneath a cloth. . . .

Those who might be anxious about eating a still-moving snack can opt to eat each bite swathed in a betel leaf. The traditional wrap conveniently prevents diners from accidentally making eye contact with their meal. Should curiosity get the better of you, however, a standard serving offers dozens of creatures you can stare down before eating alive.

In Japan, shirouo no odorigui describes another squirming delight.

Odorigui refers to the feeling of eating live sea creatures, or “dance-eating.” When it comes to shirouo no odorigui, the creatures dancing to their death are minnow-sized, transparent fish. In Japan’s Fukuoka prefecture, diners down these fish, also known as ice gobies, in shot glasses. As they’re served with nothing but a dash of soy sauce, there’s no hiding from the tiny faces of these slippery, still-moving snacks.

Eating Animals

I would be a hypocrite to condemn eating fish and other animals. However, I find myself utterly repelled by the notion of chewing something that is still alive. It seems unnecessarily cruel. I doubt I’ll ever hold membership in PETA, but I agree with their view that the abuse of animals is a grievous wrong.

C.S. Lewis would share this conviction that the abuse of these creatures is immoral. He wrote that “in justifying cruelty to animals we put ourselves also on the animal level. We choose the jungle and must abide by our choice.”

The merciful treatment of animals is one of Scripture’s most overlooked themes.

Judaism places great stress on proper treatment of animals. Unnecessary cruelty to animals is strictly forbidden, and in many cases, animals are accorded the same sensitivity as human beings. This concern for the welfare of animals is unusual in Western civilization. Most civilized nations did not accept this principle until quite recently; cruelty to animals was not outlawed until the 1800s, and even now it is not taken very seriously.

The primary principle behind the treatment of animals in Jewish law is preventing tza’ar ba’alei chayim, the suffering of living creatures. . . . Judaism has always recognized the link between the way a person treats animals and the way a person treats human beings. A person who is cruel to a defenseless animal will undoubtedly be cruel to defenseless people.

Even the slaughtering of animals is intended, under Kosher rules, “to be as fast and painless as possible . . . Hunting for sport is strictly prohibited, and hunting and trapping for legitimate needs is permissible only when it is done in the least painful way possible.

More on the Subject from Lewis

C.S. Lewis possessed a concern for suffering animals. We used to call this regard “humane,” because it reflected a natural compassion that God instills within us. Sadly, in many people it has been all but extinguished.

In 1940, Lewis included a full chapter on “Animal Pain” in The Problem of Pain. There he advocates a compassionate attitude, without being so doctrinaire as the aforementioned PETA. His concern is theological. He desires to explain how animals can suffer despite the “goodness” of God’s creation. Lewis recognizes that, in a word, the suffering of animals is an evil.

The problem of animal suffering is appalling . . . because the Christian explanation of human pain cannot be extended to animal pain. So far as we know beasts are incapable either of sin or virtue: therefore they can neither deserve pain nor be improved by it.

Lewis also confronted a distortion of biblical teaching that is often employed to justify the mistreatment of animals. Some say humanity is intended to lord over creation (including animals) however we see fit. However, in 1956 Lewis wrote to a correspondent that animals should be treasured.

I think God wants us to love Him more, not to love creatures (even animals) less. We love everything in one way too much (i.e. at the expense of our love for Him) but in another way we love everything too little. No person, animal, flower, or even pebble, has ever been loved too much—i.e. more than every one of God’s works deserves.

The Ethics & Religious Liberty Commission of the Southern Baptist Convention offers an excellent article on the positive place of animals in creation. Animals are precious to God. “They aren’t the product of happenstance or fortuitous natural processes any more than humans are.” Their ten biblical observations about animals echo the thoughts of Lewis, and are quite worthy of your consideration.

One of Lewis’ essays, “Vivisection,” upset a number of his contemporaries who had no reservations at all about experimentation on animals. It appears in the collection God in the Dock, but here are a few excerpts.

The vast majority of vivisectors have no such [Christian] theological background. They are most of them naturalistic and Darwinian. Now here, surely, we come up against a very alarming fact.

The very same people who will most contemptuously brush aside any consideration of animal suffering if it stands in the way of “research” will also, on another context, most vehemently deny that there is any radical difference between man and the other animals. On the naturalistic view the beasts are at bottom just the same sort of thing as ourselves. . . .

We sacrifice other species to our own not because our own has any objective metaphysical privilege over others, but simply because it is ours.

Once the old Christian idea of a total difference in kind between man and beast has been abandoned, then no argument for experiments on animals can be found which is not also an argument for experiments on inferior men. . . . The victory of vivisection marks a great advance in the triumph of ruthless, non-moral utilitarianism over the old world of ethical law; a triumph in which we, as well as animals, are already the victims, and of which Dachau and Hiroshima mark the more recent achievements.

In justifying cruelty to animals we put ourselves also on the animal level. We choose the jungle and must abide by our choice.

And what does this human jungle bring into being?

If we cut up beasts simply because they cannot prevent us and because we are backing our own side in the struggle for existence, it is only logical to cut up imbeciles, criminals, enemies, or capitalists for the same reasons.

If you are interested in learning more about Lewis’ view of the ethical treatment of animals, download “C.S. Lewis and Animal Experimentation” by Michael Gilmour.

It appeared in 2015 in Perspectives on Science and Christian Faith. All issues of the journal, going back to its founding in 1949, are accessible for free online.

The older I have grown, the more sympathetic to animals I have become. Admittedly, the live worms and crustaceans concern me less than the agony of mammals, which are far more conscious of their pain. And . . . I sincerely grieve for people who do not feel compassion for their suffering.


* The Ferengi also love their Slug-o-Cola, with its guaranteed “43% live algae in every bottle.”

** There are presumably more than 5- types of gagh, some of which had feet. And if that doesn’t gag you, your gut has a much higher quotient of iron than does mine.

*** For a lively discussion of whether “the human race has gone vegetarian in Star Trek,” check out this site.

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The most effective way to influence another person is through a fruitful conversation. This is especially true when one is attempting to persuade someone that a given point is true.

One drawback to conversations is that they are, by definition, rather intimate. After all, a person can only carry on a genuine conversation with a small audience. The ebb and flow of the spoken words, exchanged between parties, is utterly different than a speech or sermon. (This is one reason I prefer to teach in a conversational manner—soliciting questions, insights and even challenges during the delivery of whatever material I had prepared in advance.)

I recently read an interview conducted with a friend of mine who is an officer and a gentleman in the literal sense of those two words. Michael Zeigler and I served together at Fairchild AFB, after which he entered the ministry.

What most struck me in the interview, was a part of his response to a question about a book he has written. In it, he mentioned a theologian that I too have had the joy of studying under. That professor offered some invaluable advice for those of us who write. As Michael related:

My teacher [Seminary Professor Emeritus] Robert Kolb told us that, when we write, we should not seek to have the last word, but to contribute to the conversation.

This is contrary to the way most writers approach the keyboard. Having the last word is precisely what so many of us strive to do. And that very attitude undermines the opportunity for truly productive conversations.

Writing is inherently prone to unidirectional communication. Conversation can enter in through comments to authors, and this is one of the things that makes blogging somewhat more emotionally satisfying than traditional publishing.

The radio offers another example of one-way communication.* There are, of course, ways to offer feedback to commentators, but these are rather limited, and always consequent to the original message. But, it does possess a singular advantage over the printed media.

The graphic above pictures Martin Luther at a microphone. Had he lived in the appropriate era, I have no doubt he would have engaged in broadcasting . . . just as he embraced Gutenberg’s press to spread his message.

Lewis’ Broadcasts

My friend Michael has recently embarked on a new journey with a widely respected radio ministry. And, in this, he bears a striking resemblance to the great C.S. Lewis.

(Evan Rosa offers a rare example of Lewis’ broadcasts here.)

The similarity between Zeigler and Lewis is that their broadcasts are conversations, rather than presentations. Their conversational essence extends far beyond their friendly, approachable tone. They are truly engaged with their hearers. You know that they would welcome an actual interchange beyond the limitations of their microphones.

It is a rare talent to be able to touch the individual members of a mass audience so they feel like you are speaking to them alone. With both of the aforementioned individuals, I believe a key element of their effectiveness is their unfeigned humility. In 1941 Lewis wrote to a correspondent about his upcoming BBC radio talks.

I’ve given talks to the RAF [Royal Air Force] at Abingdon already, and so far as I can judge they were a complete failure. . . . Yes, jobs one dare neither refuse nor perform.

One must take comfort in remembering that God used an ass to convert the prophet; perhaps if we do our poor best we shall be allowed a stall near it in the celestial stable.

This is a good reminder not only to broadcasters, but to all who write as well. Picking up our pens in a spirit of humility goes a long way towards receiving a warm welcome for our words. And, if we are truly fortunate, our readers will recognize we are not seeking to have the last word, but merely hoping to contribute to the conversation.

Addendum

The Rev. Dr. Michael Zeigler is a long-time friend. We met years ago when he was a young Air Force officer, a first-class product of the Air Force Academy. After completing his active duty commitment, Michael and his wife journeyed to Concordia Seminary where he first earned his M.Div. and continued on to receive a Ph.D. For years they served a wonderfully diverse urban congregation in St. Louis.

Now Michael has received a singular “honor” in being chosen as the speaker for The Lutheran Hour.

The Lutheran Hour is the world’s longest running continuously broadcast Christian radio program. It began in 1930 and currently airs on more than 1,800 stations. Lutheran Hour Ministries currently reaches into more than 50 countries through its various ministries.

You can sign up to listen to podcasts of the program for free on iTunes here.


* I wish I could take some credit for Michael’s pursuit of a pastoral vocation, but I can’t. It was purely a matter of the Holy Spirit calling him to ministry. However, I cling to the notion that at least my example as a chaplain did not discourage him from answering God’s call.

** The exceptions would be when there is a studio audience or a “call in” option. However, one would be hard-pressed to identify radio or television broadcasts as “dialog.”