Fiction or Nonfiction: Which is Best?

Which is better for a person to write, fiction or nonfiction? That, of course, is an absurd question on its face. Every one recognizes nonfiction is best. (Just joking.)

Few of us are talented in the manner of C.S. Lewis — who excelled in both genres. Typically we have a knack for one or the other.

Which is best, becomes a question with a quite personal answer. And that response is determined by a number of interrelated elements. In which form are we more adept? Which do we prefer to read? For which are there greater avenues to experience publication? Through which do we receive more reward, extrinsic or intrinsic? 

Christian writers consider another, hopefully overriding, factor. What type of writing does the Lord desire us to pursue? And, it should be noted that just like the daily Christian walk, this is a dynamic matter. It can change at any given moment, depending upon how the Holy Spirit leads. Once again, C.S. Lewis offers an ideal example of this truth. God may lead us to write something factual one afternoon, imaginative the next, and perhaps poetry on the succeeding morning. 

What about the Prestige Factor?

There is a subtle prejudice among writers, I fear. While it’s natural to think that the genre most challenging to one may require additional skill or discipline, it seems to me most writers tacitly accept the notion that fiction requires more talent. 

While I personally disagree with that assessment, I understand it. After all, “facts” are readily available, and don’t rely on one’s imagination to devise. Still, good nonfiction is not inherently simpler to produce than quality fiction. (I mean, AI is proving every day that mediocrity can be reached in either genre in mere seconds.) 

As an example of this subtle prejudice, see this (quite helpful) article by promising young historical fictionist Cheyenne van Langevelde.

In an insightful article entitled “Genre ~ What Christian Writers Should be Aware of,” she introduces the subject with the following observation: 

As someone who hasn’t written nonfiction, I will not be discussing that branch of literature — though I’m sure it’s obvious how one could glorify God in their nonfiction writing. What I am going to talk about is the more challenging of the two branches: fiction.

I graduated from the University of Washington with an Editorial Journalism degree. While some argue Communication degrees are “worthless,” they may “set you up for life.” (That has certainly been my experience.)

Still, journalism doesn’t have the panache of “creative writing.” This, I suspect, is one reason that Master of Fine Arts (MFA) degrees exploded on the scene several decades ago.

When I open each issue of Poets & Writers, I’m overwhelmed by the number of ads for MFA programs, all over the globe. However, the October issue features a melancholy article titled “More MFA Programs Closing.” This is “despite all the value and prestige they bring to the university . . .”

The article cites “monetary pressures on universities and waning interest in the humanities” as major problems. Obvious to any non-MFA observer, the unbridled proliferation of MFA programs themselves might be the primary cause. 

Combine with that the evidence that a younger generation is more concerned about their prospects of making a living, and one might anticipate a further winnowing of such programs. 

For a balanced discussion of the subject, I commend “The MFA Degree: A Bad Decision?” — written by a writer who earned one, and subsequently “taught undergraduate and graduate courses in creative writing.”

I don’t believe MFA programs are inherently evil and have destroyed contemporary American literature. The majority of people teaching and taking creative writing classes are all trying to do good things. Nonetheless, I’ve begun to wonder if the MFA is, in fact, a bad decision.

It’s an interesting discussion, of value especially to those contemplating an MFA path. I leave that choice to the individual — as I leave to them the decision regarding whether to write fiction or nonfiction . . . or poetry, convincing historical fiction, satire, etc.

In order to expand their pool of prospective students, some MFA programs added “creative nonfiction” to their offerings. The focus of this genre is on training participants to consciously implement literary styles and techniques in order to make their factually accurate narratives more engaging.

While there is no doubt consciously taking these tools into consideration can improve the quality of many nonfiction works, it seems a bit exaggerated to label it “creative.” I would simply describe it as “good” or “well written” nonfiction. 

For a description of how creative nonfiction can be implemented in memoirs and essays, you might enjoy an introduction to the subject from Writers.com. You may wish to follow that up with “The Five R’s of Creative Nonfiction.” (Mere Inkling applies at least four of them.)

C.S. Lewis offered an aspiring young writer some wonderful advice in 1959. “Write about what really interests you,” he suggested, “whether it is real things or imaginary things, and nothing else.” He added the parenthetical note that “if you are interested only in writing you will never be a writer, because you will have nothing to write about . . .”

Excellent advice for the young wordsmith. I would add that for the maturing scribe it is often productive (and even fun) to experiment with a variety of genres.

Who knows? Perhaps you will follow the Inkling tradition established by C.S. Lewis and J.R.R. Tolkien, being exceptional in fiction and nonfiction alike. Best of luck to those of you who embark on this journey!

C.S. Lewis & Kindness

People don’t get along as well as they used to. In the past you could chalk up that sort of observation to the speaker being of the senior variety, and simply complaining about how things are not like the mythical “good old days.”

But today it appears to be a universally acknowledged tragedy. The social fabric previous generations took for granted – national tapestries that were once knit together with such care to promote beauty and harmony – have frayed and torn.

And I don’t perceive this dreadful condition as limited to the United States. Nor do I believe that it’s simply limited to the realm of politics . . . although it is most certainly manifest in that contentious realm. 

Sadly, there is a shortage of truly kind people. Benjamin Franklin hinted at this when he penned, “he that has done you a kindness will be more ready to do you another, than he whom you yourself have obliged.” Essentially, kind people are the ones who act kindly. Rings true, doesn’t it?

It’s not only in politics where kindness is in a shortage. C.S. Lewis described the dilemma in “The Decline of Religion”

The decline of “religion” is no doubt a bad thing for the “World.” By it all the things that made England a fairly happy country are, I suppose, endangered: the comparative purity of her public life, the comparative humanity of her police, and the possibility of some mutual respect and kindness between political opponents.

But I am not clear that it makes conversions to Christianity rarer or more difficult: rather the reverse. It makes the choice more unescapable. When the Round Table is broken every man must follow either Galahad or Mordred: middle things are gone.

The increasing rarity of kindness doesn’t mark its demise. It will never become extinct while a single soul is kind. As the Greek storyteller Aesop declared twenty-five centuries ago, “no act of kindness, no matter how small is ever wasted.”

A Hopeful Note

Kindness may be hard-pressed in our current day, but the battle isn’t lost. 

The grinch graphic above is the creation of the Random Acts of Kindness Foundation. Their worthwhile goal is to encourage and support lives of kindness. One of their resources, “The Science of Kindness,” describes their uplifting purpose.

And, if you want to experience and emanate not only kindness, the best place to look is to our Creator. Knowing God and trusting the atoning work of Jesus fills us with the very Holy Spirit of our Lord.

As C.S. Lewis discovered when he ceased running away from God while pursuing the empty promises of atheism, the Lord’s desire for humanity is purely good. “The fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, self-control . . .” (Galatians 5).

God as the Author of Creation

Satan is powerless versus Christians, especially those who know he exists. Yet, vis-à-vis unbelievers, he “prowls around like [an invisible] lion, seeking someone to devour” (1 Peter 5). Christian “immunity” to Lucifer’s power, if not his temptations, is due to the indwelling presence of God’s Holy Spirit.

Still, for every human being, whatever their personal belief, the Devil is no mere cartoon, with whom to be trifled. I discussed this briefly in my previous post, “Only God Can Create,” which you might want to read before continuing here.

As for humanity’s vulnerability to the Devil’s influence, the consensus in paradoxically-labeled “enlightened” cultures is that he doesn’t even exist. Sadly, this cosmic lie even tricks self-described “Christians.”

This illusion plays directly into his purposes, as C.S. Lewis described in The Screwtape Letters. Screwtape, a senior demon, instructs his protégée Wormwood in the preferred method of dispelling human wariness about Evil.

The fact that “devils” are predominantly comic figures in the modern imagination will help you. If any faint suspicion of your existence begins to arise in his mind, suggest to him a picture of something in red tights, and persuade him that since he cannot believe in that (it is an old textbook method of confusing them) he therefore cannot believe in you.

Ironically, the populations of less Westernized cultures possess some immunity to this deception. Even in their traditional religions, there is a keen awareness of the existence of evil presences. In the words of The African Study Bible, “we Africans understand instinctively the stories of angelic visitations, spiritual warfare, and demonic oppression that are in the Bible.”

Christians believe in God, not the Devil. While the Scriptures attest to the personal identity of this fallen angel, acknowledgment of his existence is not salvific (i.e. it is not essential to salvation). Thus, C.S. Lewis is correct in his 1944 essay “Answers to Questions on Christianity” when he writes:

No reference to the Devil or devils is included in any Christian Creeds, and it is quite possible to be a Christian without believing in them. I do believe such beings exist, but that is my own affair.

Supposing there to be such beings, the degree to which humans were conscious of their presence would presumably vary very much. I mean, the more a man was in the Devil’s power, the less he would be aware of it, on the principle that a man is still fairly sober as long as he knows he’s drunk. It is the people who are fully awake and trying hard to be good who would be most aware of the Devil. It is when you start arming against Hitler that you first realize your country is full of Nazi agents.

Of course, they don’t want you to believe in the Devil. If devils exist, their first aim is to give you an anaesthetic – to put you off your guard. Only if that fails, do you become aware of them.

On the Matter of Creative Power

Only God can create. That was the core message of our previous discussion. C.S. Lewis recognized, as do biblically-grounded believers, that Satan is merely a sinful, fallen being, little different from humanity in that regard. This truth shatters the pagan philosophy of dualism, or the misguided notion that two equal and opposite forces (e.g. good and evil) exist in some sort of equilibrium. 

In “The Seeing Eye,” C.S. Lewis described the way in which God is beyond his creation. 

Looking for God – or Heaven – by exploring space is like reading or seeing all Shakespeare’s plays in the hope that you will find Shakespeare as one of the characters . . . Shakespeare is in one sense present at every moment in every play. But he is never present in the same way as Falstaff or Lady Macbeth. . . .

If there were an idiot who thought plays existed on their own, without an author . . . our belief in Shakespeare would not be much affected by his saying, quite truly, that he had studied all the plays and never found Shakespeare in them. . . .

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.

Mark Twain’s Divinized Satan

I had intended to mention Samuel Clemens in my previous article, as one who advanced the assertion that Satan possesses creative ability. Whether Twain regarded the Devil as an actual entity is certainly debatable. What is undeniable, however, is his devoted defense of Lucifer.

As Twain famously wrote in his autobiographical writings, “But who prays for Satan? Who, in eighteen centuries, has had the common humanity to pray for the one sinner that needed it most?” 

Mark Twain was (in)famous for his atheism, or his agnostic antipathy of the Christian understanding of our Creator. Not content to disbelieve, Samuel Clemens actively worked to undermine Christian faith. One of his books, Letters from the Earth, had to be printed posthumously, due its irreverent (or blasphemous) nature.

It bears a superficial resemblance to C.S. Lewis’ amazing Screwtape Letters – insofar as both fictional works present themselves as demonic correspondence. 

The similarity ends there. While Lewis provides keen insight into Evil’s tactics in wreaking havoc in human lives, Twain’s letters present Satan in a positive, even noble, light.

Letters from the Earth is only one of Mark Twain’s anti-Christian works. The Mysterious Stranger is one of his most bizarre. It evidences his long-term preoccupation with Satan, in that it was composed (in various versions) between 1897 and 1908.

The first serious rendition, The Chronicle of Young Satan, was completed in 1900. I mention it here because there is a scene in which the Devil “creates” a miniature world. Obviously it errs in attributing to Lucifer the power to create life – but to its credit, it does reveal Satan as a capricious, vain, cruel, and compassionless lord.

In 1985 a claymation film was released titled The Adventures of Mark Twain. It features the mock scene from Chronicle of Young Satan. It is quite disturbing. However, if one is curious about the subject, and wishes to be forearmed regarding such deceptions, you can view the excerpt here.

Especially for those who do choose to view Twain’s portrayal of the Devil in his fictional “youth,” I desire to end our current discussion on a positive note.

Claymation was also the medium for a long-lived Christian television series. Davey & Goliath, the story of a regular kid and his dog, ran between 1964 and 1975. Many of the episodes can be seen here.

And finally (and forever), we can celebrate with C.S. Lewis the wonder that this world we currently inhabit will not be God’s sole creation. In fact, because of Jesus’ redemptive sacrifice, we can look forward to a new cosmos, untainted by sin.

The New Testament writers speak as if Christ’s achievement in rising from the dead was the first event of its kind in the whole history of the universe. He is the “first fruits”, the “pioneer of life”.

He has forced open a door that has been locked since the death of the first man. He has met, fought, and beaten the King of Death. Everything is different because He has done so. This is the beginning of the New Creation: a new chapter in cosmic history has opened (Miracles).

Only God Can Create

Satan has many disciples in this world. Some know him by other names, or worship him in spirit without recognizing his actual existence (e.g. Mammon). The irony, of course, is that the Devil is simply a posturer, or in modern parlance, a poser. And the presence of the Holy Spirit makes any single Christian more than his match.

A prime evidence of Satan’s weakness is that he is a mere created being, without any creative powers of his own. Although some would grant the Adversary a glory he does not own, the truth is that since his expulsion from Heaven, he has devolved into the Great Pretender.

C.S. Lewis never pretended to be a theologian (for whatever authority that debatable title might convey). Instead, he was a brilliant disciple of Jesus with a sincere desire to follow the teachings of the Scriptures. Lewis certainly wasn’t infallible (and he has many critics who delight in pointing out that obvious fact).

Nevertheless, Lewis’ private insights on the subject of Lucifer’s noncreative limitation are right on the biblical target. Responding to a question posed by a reader, Lewis offered his opinion. 

Dear Mrs [Belle] Allen, I think it would be dangerous to suppose that Satan had created all the creatures that are disagreeable or dangerous to us for (a) those creatures, if they could think, would have just the same reason for thinking that we were created by Satan. (b) I don’t think evil, in the strict sense, can create.

It can spoil something that Another has created. Satan may have corrupted other creatures as well as us. Part of the corruption in us might be the unreasoning horror and disgust we feel at some creatures quite apart from any harm they can do us. (I can’t abide a spider myself.) (correspondence, 11 January 1954).

No, God alone creates . . . and redeems. The impotent Devil can never create, or rescue. His utter corruption results in an admittedly powerful spiritual being (a fallen angel) who is devoted to twisting, breaking, tainting, warping, spoiling, corrupting, rotting, perverting, and ruining all that God loves.

Granted, in our fallen world, Satan can fashion an abomination from some preexisting thing he corrupts – for example, Ophiocordyceps unilateralis the parasitic fungus that turns ants into zombies – but he can never create something out of nothing. These poor abominations are an excellent example of what Lewis referred to when he described the “horror and disgust we feel at some creatures . . .”

Meanwhile, Human Beings Can Create

Well, not exactly “create” on the creatio ex nihilo (created out of nothing) sense. Only God can do that, as he did when he spoke all things into existence. Just as Aslan echoed, when he sang Narnia into being in Lewis’ Chronicles.

“And God said, ‘Let there be light,’ and there was light” (Genesis 1).

“In the beginning was the Word [Logos], and the Word was with God, and the Word was God. . . . All things were made through him . . .” (John 1)

The Lion was pacing to and fro about empty land and singing his new song. It was softer and more lilting than the song by which he had called up the stars and the sun; a gentle, rippling music. And as he walked and sang the valley grew green with grass. It spread out from the Lion like a pool. It ran up the sides of the little hills like a wave” (The Magician’s Nephew)

As for humans like you and me being able to create, that is one of God’s most precious gifts to us. In truth, we use elements already created by the Lord: clay and stone to sculpt, pigments to paint, quill and ink to write.

The Inklings understood this creative impulse quite well. They not only understood it; they lived it. 

Like Christians before and since, they recognized that our creative capacity is based in the fact that we are created imago Dei, in the image of God.

Many people mistakenly believe J.R.R. Tolkien coined the word subcreation (or sub-creation, for the hyphen-infatuated). He certainly applied it for the first time to the intentional creation of what the Oxford English Dictionary calls “the action or process of creating a fully realized and internally consistent imaginary (or ‘secondary’) world.” 

Subcreation may be considered a form of “creation by a created being.” But even the most talented of writers and artists should remember this truth, stated by a Canadian astrophysicist: “God did not grant to the devil or any of his creatures the power to create.”

There is much more to consider on this subject, but Mere Inkling readers will need to wait until my next post, when we will conclude our discussion of this fascinating matter. 

There are two equal and opposite errors into which our race can fall about the devils. One is to disbelieve in their existence. The other is to believe, and to feel an excessive and unhealthy interest in them.

They themselves are equally pleased by both errors, and hail a materialist or a magician with the same delight. (The Screwtape Letters).


The image above is based on the work of Émile Bayard (1837-1891), a French illustrator who was born in Cairo, Egypt.

Short-term Sale on C.S. Lewis Study

C.S. Lewis was a champion of the historic version of the atonement wherein Jesus pays the price for our disobedience, and by his sacrificial death offers us eternal life though faith in him.

There is an excellent new book that is temporarily on sale for a mere three dollars in the Kindle format. (This low price is not due to its value, but to the occasional sales offered by publisher Wipf and Stock.) Check it out right now, because the sale ends on 24 September.

A Narnian Vision of the Atonement: A Defense of the Ransom Theory  was written by Charles Taliaferro, Professor Emeritus of Philosophy at St. Olaf College.

I’m enjoying the volume right now, although “philosophy” per se is far from my passion. But Jesus of Nazareth is. And I am passionate, as well, about the work of Yeshua’s disciple, C.S. Lewis. And Jesus and Lewis are the central characters in Taliaferro’s book.

He makes the subject of doctrine and philosophy quite accessible. I find this especially beneficial in his chapter on “the Ransom Theory and Rival Accounts of the Atonement.” Whereas some theologians are dismissive of the earliest Christian view of the atonement, this volume argues that it is far from incompatible with modern emphases (e.g. the Exemplar Model).

Since the early medieval era (roughly, the eleventh century), theories of the atonement have been any version except the ransom theory. In this chapter we will consider a host of them. I will be painting with a broad brush, with minimal references, in an effort to favorably sketch these accounts.

Afterwards, I will suggest that these accounts are not only compatible with the ransom theory, the ransom theory can provide important support for these so-called rivals.

I strongly commend this volume – especially at this unbelievable price – to anyone interested in C.S. Lewis’ faith or even in basic historic Christianity.

I will close with a wonderful passage from a letter C.S. Lewis wrote in 1954. Discussing theodicy, why God allows the suffering of innocents, Lewis offers this profound insight, inspired by Hebrews 2:10, and, it seems to me, 2 Corinthians 12:9.

Do you know, the suffering of the innocent is less of a problem to me v. often than that of the wicked. It sounds absurd; but I’ve met so many innocent sufferers who seem to be gladly offering their pain to God in Christ as part of the Atonement, so patient, so meek, even so at peace, and so unselfish that we can hardly doubt they are being, as St. Paul says, “made perfect by suffering.”

On the other hand I meet selfish egoists in whom suffering seems to produce only resentment, hate, blasphemy, and more egoism. They are the real problem (11 November 1954).

The Atonement – the restoration of humanity’s proper relationship with our Creator – is the greatest of miracles. And, A Narnian Vision of the Atonement, can help us to better celebrate its wonders.

Damnable Typos & the Bible

While the title of this post will be shocking to some, it’s far less scandalous than the typographical error discussed below. Due to two misprints appearing in a 1641 edition of the King James Bible (KJV), the publication has been labeled the “Wicked Bible.”

Translating the Scriptures is a necessary, and demanding, task. The early editions of the KJV (which was preceded by the Wycliffe Bible) reveal how vulnerable the words themselves were to being altered during the typesetting process.

I’ve written about this subject a number of times during the past decade, and even devoted a column to “C.S. Lewis’ School of Translation,” which is about something even more important than merely translating words. There I quote one of the great author’s deepest hopes.

What I want is to be the founder of a school of ‘translation . . .’ Where are my successors? (correspondence, 7 October 1945).

Returning to the seventeenth century book with its unfortunate errors, we witness an example of how even a solid translation can be derailed by careless (or malevolent) typesetters.

The magnitude of the mistake discovered in this particular edition caused its suppression, and most copies were destroyed. While some still exist in private hands, only fifteen remain in public collections. One of these made its way to New Zealand before being identified in 2018.

A Truly Scandalous Misprint

It would be one thing if a printer accidently dropped the final “e” from “breathe,” leaving the word “breath.” Even substituting an errant “w” for the “b,” would create an alternate word that would greatly muddle a passage . . . but still not appear remotely “wicked.” 

However, a 1631 mistake in an English Bible literally turned a passage – one of the Ten Commandments, no less – on its head. Rather than reading “Thou shalt not commit adultery,” this edition declares, “Thou shalt commit adultery” (Exodus 20:14).

The consequences of this disaster were significant, particularly for His Majesty’s official printers. In Cyprianus Anglicanus by royalist priest Peter Heylyn (1599-1662), we learn the details. (You can download a free facsimile of the volume which includes many other fascinating facts.) The passage related to the misbegotten tome reads as follows:

His Majesties Printers, at or about this time [1632], had committed a scandalous mistake in our English Bibles, by leaving out the word Not in the Seventh Commandment.

His Majesty being made acquainted with it by the Bishop of London, Order was given for calling the Printers into the High-Commission where upon the Evidence of the Fact, the whole Impression was called in, and the Printers deeply fined, as they justly merited.

Reports of Cases in the Courts of Star Chamber and High Commission, penned by Samuel Rawson Gardiner in 1886, includes a detailed account of the court’s findings. (Due to their uniqueness, I have transposed the full account, as found in two sections, as a footnote below.) One passage describes a second “gross error.”

. . . showed the two grossest errors, vizt. “Shalt commit adultery” and “great asse:” for “shalt not commit adultery” and “greatnesse…”

The second of these blunders occurs in Deuteronomy 5:24, which properly reads “Behold, the Lord our God hath shewed us his glory and his greatness.” (It should be noted that the word asse would most commonly be associated with donkeys.)

The magnitude of these mistakes can only be understood when one recognizes how reverentially the Scriptures were regarded at this time. C.S. Lewis would suggest that during an age when the Bible has been relegated to historic literature, it is difficult for us to comprehend the seriousness of this matter.

It is very generally implied that those who have rejected its theological pretensions nevertheless continue to enjoy it as a treasure house of English prose. It may be so. There may be people who, not having been forced upon familiarity with it by believing parents, have yet been drawn to it by its literary charms and remained as constant readers.

But I never happen to meet them. Perhaps it is because I live in the provinces. But I cannot help suspecting, if I may make an Irish bull, that those who read the Bible as literature do not read the Bible. (“The Literary Impact of the Authorised Version”).

In “Challenges in Printing Early English Bibles,” you can read about other Bibles featuring noteworthy mistakes. In two, “peacemakers” become “placemakers,” and “murmurers” are transformed into “murderers.” Another example, in the very first edition of the KJV, finds Jesus’ ancestor Ruth referred to by the male pronoun, due to the accidental dropping of an “s.”

More troubling is another early KJV Bible where “the text of Psalm 14 [reads], “The fool hath said in his heart there is a God,” rather than “The fool hath said in his heart there is no God.”

Worst of all, in terms of blasphemous connotations, would likely be the so-called “Judas Bible.”

In the 1609 Geneva Bible, the typesetters mistakenly replaced Jesus’s name with that of Judas. John 6:67 reads: “From that time many of his disciples went back, and walked no more with him. Then said Judas unto the twelve, Will ye also go away?”

Fortunately, modern editions of the Jewish and Christian Scriptures undergo thorough proofreading, so this sort of error is rare today. Still, typos will persist as long as the remotest possibility of error exists.

Those among us who have sought to have our writing published by traditional publishers may relate to the example with which we end. C.S. Lewis and J.R.R. Tolkien and even Mark Twain faced challenges working with some of their editors and publishers.

With all of the printing mishaps in the early English Bible, it is only appropriate that one of the editions was called “The Printers Bible.”

This text, published in about 1702, takes its name from a typesetting error found in Psalm 119, which should have read “Princes have per­secuted me without a cause” but was mistakenly printed as “Printers have persecuted me.”


Full references from Reports of Cases in the Courts of Star Chamber and High Commission by Samuel Rawson Gardiner (1886).

Mr Barker the printer. There is a cause begunne against him for false printeing of the Bible in divers places of it, in the Edition of 1631, vizt., in the 20 of Exod[us], “Thou shalt committ adultery”; and in the fifte of Deut[eronomy] “The Lord has shewed his glory, and his great asse”; and for divers other faults; and that they had printed it in very bad paper. And the Bishop of London showed that this would undoe the trade, and was a most dishonorable thing; that they of the church of Rome are soe carefull, that not a word or letter is to be found amisse in their Ladie’s Psalter and other superstitious books; and that we should not be soe carefull in printinge the sacred Scriptures; and that they in Holland, at Amsterdam, had gott up an English presse, and had printed the Bible in better paper, and with a better letter, and can undersell us 18d. in a Bible. Mr Barker and his partners endeavored in partt to excuse themselves, and had advocates to speake for them, and were willing to submitt, and promised to amend their faults; but the Court would not remitt their offense, but the cause was ordered to goe on.

The Printers having answered move the Court to passe by their oversight being the fault of the workmen but the King’s Advocate desired they might make their defense legally and the cause to go onto hearing: and that he might have liberty to put in additional articles against them. The Bishop of London would have the Church sett upright in her reputacion, that we are as carefull in printeing the Bible as they are of their Jesus’ psalter : and whereas the Printers say this is stirred up by the malice of one man against them; The Bishop saith he stirred not till the Bible was sould into his house, bought by his footman: and he saith the printinge is soe bbad and the paper too that, if it be not mended shortlie, they wilbe put downe by those of Amsterdam and their trade spoyled, and showed for the two grossest errors, vizt. “Shalt commit adultery” and “great asse:” for “shalt not commit adultery” and “greatnesse…” The Arch Bishop of Canterbury saith, that the Printers that print for his Matie have a very profitable place, and therefore should be more carefull. I knew the tyme when greater care was had about printeing, the Bibles especiallie, good compositors and the best correctors were gotten being grave and learned men, and the paper and letter rare and faire every way of the best; but now the paper is naught, the composers boyes, and the correctors unlearned: There is a farmer and he makes the benefit, and careth for nothing about it. They heretofore spent their whole time in printeing, but these looke to gaine, gaine, gaine, then they are not to be commended: Well, let them looke to it: and let the cause proceed, saith the ArchBishop. London. “There was a great deale of doo between you of this Citty and those of Cambridge heretofore about the priviledge of printeing the Bible and psalms which they of Cambridge claymed; then the Bible was exactlie printed, now you have forced the Cambridg printer to an agreement, now noe bible is right printed.

[It appears this volume itself would have benefited from having more diligent “correctors.” Perhaps most curiously, two spellings of the word printing – “printinge” and “printeing” – appear in this publication.]

Brilliant New Course on C.S. Lewis

Fans of C.S. Lewis who would relish a month-long journey through his work must consider a brand new course designed by Dr. Brenton Dickieson of Signum University. 

Ink Spots and Tea Stains offers the very best of combinations: “academically serious but . . .  focused purely on the love of learning and the joy of studying the material.”

And what an amazing subject you will explore – a unique view of C.S. Lewis’ archival treasures (many still unpublished), in the context of his more familiar works. And there is no need to feel intimidated. According to Signum

No specific knowledge or background is necessary, though it is recommended that students have a general knowledge of Lewis’s writings.

Writers should be especially intrigued by the course which will discuss the literary imagination and the shape of personal discipline in the writing process.

I enthusiastically commend Ink Spots and Tea Stains to you. I also encourage you to share this news with your friends who are fans of C.S. Lewis’ work.

In fact, you might also wish to pass the invitation on to all of the writers you know who would enjoy an inspired exploration into the writing processes of one of the most respected authors of the twentieth century.

All of our lives are busy, but consider giving yourself this uplifting gift this autumn. If you do, I’m confident you’ll not regret it.

C.S. Lewis, Stereotypes & Polarization

Do you think in terms of stereotypes? Be careful before answering, since nary an adult is free of them. (Case in point, you may well have preconceptions or prejudices about a writer who would use the word “nary” in an opening sentence.)

Stereotyping is common, despite the fact most of us would disavow its use. Most of us would agree with C.S. Lewis who described how stereotypes bar us from embracing new knowledge. In his inaugural lecture on the faculty of Cambridge University, he cautioned that “a stereotyped image can obliterate a man’s own experience” (“De Desciptione Temporum”).

Oddly, while most of us would intuit that thinking stereotypically is a pattern for “the less intelligent,” it appears the reverse is true. According to one study,

Superior cognitive abilities are often associated with positive outcomes, such as academic achievement and social mobility . . . However, our work shows that some cognitive abilities can have negative consequences – specifically, that people who are adept at detecting patterns are especially quick to learn and apply social stereotypes.

Fortunately, although “people with better pattern detection abilities are at greater risk of picking up on and applying stereotypes about social groups,” there is still hope for those “afflicted” with cognitive skill. Fortunately, “these individuals are better able to diminish their stereotyping when presented with new patterns that challenge existing stereotypical associations.”

Another study argues that “our brains want our expectations to be supported . . . Because of that reward engagement, we can start becoming addicted, in a way, to stereotyping.” The researchers offer this suggestion for combatting the addiction: “simply understanding that this happens is an important way to check those assumptions and not let them influence your judgment.”

Generalizing by way of stereotypes can indeed be addictive, if its endemic presence in western culture is any indication. In America, for example, if there is ever a season when nasty stereotypes run unbridled, it is during political campaigns. Especially during presidential elections, where a person of faith would hope to witness the greatest amount of compassion and earnest intercession for God’s guidance.

Stereotypes give way to even uglier projections when we come to despise others. Several years ago I wrote an article about how wartime propaganda often strives to portray a nation’s enemies as evil, and unworthy of treatment in a humane way. It is titled “Demonizing Our Enemies & Dehumanizing Ourselves.”

When nations war, it is in the interests of the leaders of the opposing causes to engage their people in that effort heart, mind and (if possible) soul. A soldier who cognitively recognizes the need for fighting, but does not  possess a visceral animus for the foe, will only be a half-hearted warrior.

On the other hand, if rulers can generate a mental and emotional disgust, or even hatred, for the enemy, they have a winning formula. Soldiers who not only understand their cause, but also desire the utter destruction of their opponent, are single-minded in their purpose. Such fighters win wars.

You can see this sort of us/them polarization during peacetime too, even in non-election years. Sadly, it seems to be manifesting more and more frequently. And, surprisingly, it appears to have become just as common within national populations, as in international contexts. The results can be catastrophic, which is why First Lady Eleanor Roosevelt pled: 

Pit race against race, religion against religion, prejudice against prejudice. Divide and conquer! We must not let that happen here.

Stereotyping the Inklings

Although none of the Inklings have been spared, I believe C.S. Lewis has been the subject of the worst stereotyping. (I have an educated suspicion why that is true.)

Diana Pavlac Glyer has an excellent article which addresses this injustice head on.

There’s a rumor going around that C. S. Lewis was an irritable introvert, isolated and lonely and scared to death of girls. Maybe it all comes from some grim stereotype of smart people or college professors or, maybe, published writers.

That whole image is completely wrong. Lewis wasn’t an introvert. Or a loner. No – he was a large man with a booming voice, a hearty laugh, a robust enjoyment of everyday life. And that is why he was a man with friends.

At A Pilgrim in Narnia, Brenton Dickieson dispels another common misperception of the great author – that he was narrow-minded. 

So much of C.S. Lewis’ uniqueness comes down to his sheer love of diversity. He loved variability, colour, the exchange, the alienation of encounter and unity with others. His weird dystopia That Hideous Strength was, in many ways, a protest against the tendency of totalitarianism to create monoculture by erasing the individual. . . .

Lewis loved difference and diversity and freedom of expression–doctrines in danger in today’s culture war. It doesn’t take long within any of today’s major social movements to find out that diversity is fine and great as long as everyone acts like us or looks like us or thinks like us or uses the same secret words we use.

Most readers of Mere Inkling would be exceptions to the rule that human beings (especially those with “superior cognitive abilities”) default to stereotyping. Most of you, I sincerely believe, share my appreciation for respectful conversation and debate with others who do not share my opinions. 

Such interaction – with unique individuals, and not cardboard caricatures – often result in my own growth. And I dare to hope that those with whom I dialog might also feel the same.

C.S. Lewis, Liturgy & a Dash of Theology

C.S. Lewis wrote: “There is no subject in the world (always excepting sport) on which I have less to say than liturgiology” (Letters to Malcolm: Chiefly on Prayer).

In Christian usage, the word “liturgy” – derived from leitourgia, and translated “work of the people” or “work for the people” – corresponds to the public worship service.

For some, “liturgy” is regarded as a negative word. It may evoke, in such cases, a sense of sterile ritual or what the Scriptures refer to (in the King James Version) as “vain repetitions” (Matthew 6). The irony is that human beings generally prefer familiarity, and almost all worship is essentially liturgical. 

Nondenominational churches sometimes claim they do not possess a liturgy. In truth, every nonspontaneous worship experience possesses liturgical elements. They may be simple – a welcome or greeting followed by music, prayer, the reading of a Bible passage, often followed by some form of sermon or reflection. Oh, and for American Protestants at least, it appears most consider “announcements” are essential to worship services.

The particular elements vary, but the “liturgical” aspects, normally occur in the same sequence at regular services.

C.S. Lewis was a faithful member of the Church of England. He was also respectful of tradition, and genuinely content with the Book of Common Prayer. While he did not prefer conventional church hymnody, he acknowledged that it blessed others. In “The Classical Anglicanism of C.S. Lewis,” the author says Lewis challenged “the assumptions of a liberal theology which undermined the Church’s confidence in its proclamation” of the Gospel. However, he continues, Lewis “was no reactionary.”

C.S. Lewis loved the simplicity of church worship in its unostentatious form. That was one reason he faithfully attended services at his modest local parish. He referred to himself as a “very ordinary layman.” This was his humble confession, although there was precious little about the scholar that was “ordinary.” Still, he was reticent to comment on ecclesiastical subjects where he possessed no expertise. Thus his complacency with time proven liturgical matters, and his academic disinterest in commenting on them formally.

This, of course, did not apply to theological truths such as the doctrinal core of “Mere Christianity.” C.S. Lewis was deeply troubled by challenges to historic Christian orthodoxy. His devotion to the faith he had once rejected forced him to come to its defense when theologians diverged from “the path of life” (Psalm 16).

In 1959, C.S. Lewis delivered an address now entitled “Fern Seed and Elephants.” It is profound. [You can listen to a reading of “Fern Seed and Elephants” at C.S. Lewis Essays.]

Invited to speak to some clergy about the threat of liberal theologies undermining the Christian faith, Lewis begins by acknowledging his lack of formal theological training.

I am a sheep, telling shepherds what only a sheep can tell them. And now I begin my bleating.

Many of us who have attended seminary, can attest to his fear that what passes for illumination is too often the opposite.

I find in these theologians a constant use of the principle that the miraculous does not occur. Thus any statement put into our Lord’s mouth by the old texts, which, if he had really made it, would constitute a prediction of the future, is taken to have been put in after the occurrence which it seemed to predict.

This is very sensible if we start by knowing that inspired prediction can never occur. Similarly in general, the rejection as unhistorical of all passages which narrate miracles is sensible if we start by knowing that the miraculous in general never occurs.

Now I do not here want to discuss whether the miraculous is possible. I only want to point out that this is a purely philosophical question. Scholars, as scholars, speak on it with no more authority than anyone else. The canon ‘If miraculous, then unhistorical’ is one they bring to their study of the texts, not one they have learned from it.

If one is speaking of authority, the united authority of all the biblical critics in the world counts here for nothing. On this they speak simply as men; men obviously influenced by, and perhaps insufficiently critical of, the spirit of the age they grew up in.

In Lewis’ The Great Divorce, he describes just such a theologian. If you would like to read my article on this subject, “Confused Clerics: The Landlord’s Stewards in C.S. Lewis’s The Pilgrim’s Regress,” just click on the article’s title.

C.S. Lewis ends his essay “Fern Seeds and Elephants” with a sort of apology. Yet, despite his reluctance to venture into the ecclesiastical realm, he shares the compulsion of the Prophet Jeremiah to speak truth. The prophet, who suffered greatly for his faithfulness, said “If I say, ‘I will not mention [God], or speak any more in his name,’ there is in my heart as it were a burning fire shut up in my bones, and I am weary with holding it in, and I cannot” (Jeremiah 20).

Missionary to the priests of one’s own church is an embarrassing role; though I have a horrid feeling that if such mission work is not soon undertaken the future history of the Church of England is likely to be short.

More Liturgical Wisdom from C.S. Lewis

C.S. Lewis did not begin his vocation as a voice of reason for the clergy when he wrote this essay. On the contrary, his concern for the erosion of sound theology began much earlier. A decade earlier he weighed in on a public discussion of arbitrary liturgical changes in the church. Lewis’ concerns at that time remain valid, more than seventy years later.

Sir,– I agree with Dean Hughes that the connection of belief and liturgy is close, but doubt if it is ‘inextricable.’ I submit that the relation is healthy when liturgy expresses the belief of the Church, morbid when liturgy creates in the people by suggestion beliefs which the Church has not publicly professed, taught, and defended.

If the mind of the Church is, for example, that our fathers erred in abandoning the Romish invocations of saints and angels, by all means let our corporate recantation, together with its grounds in scripture, reason and tradition be published, our solemn act of penitence be performed, the laity re-instructed, and the proper changes in liturgy be introduced.

What horrifies me is the proposal that individual priests should be encouraged to behave as if all this had been done when it has not been done.

One correspondent compared such changes to the equally stealthy and (as he holds) irresistible changes in a language. But that is just the parallel that terrifies me, for even the shallowest philologist knows that the unconscious linguistic process is continually degrading good words and blunting useful distinctions. Absit omen!

Whether an ‘enrichment’ of liturgy which involves a change of doctrine is allowable, surely depends on whether our doctrine is changing from error to truth or from truth to error. Is the individual priest the judge of that? (Church Times, 1 July 1949).

In The Screwtape Letters, an experienced devilish tempter is training a subordinate. In Letter XVI, he discusses attending a church with which his target “is not wholly pleased.”

Laying aside the matter of the futility of ever finding a perfect church – after all, they are made up of people – the letter cautions us about some of the criticisms related to the topic at hand. Since many aspects of Screwtape’s vile advice relate to our own vulnerabilities, I will close with an admittedly lengthy excerpt from the correspondence.

My dear Wormwood, You mentioned casually in your last letter that the patient has continued to attend one church, and one only, since he was converted, and that he is not wholly pleased with it. May I ask what you are about? Why have I no report on the causes of his fidelity to the parish church? Do you realise that unless it is due to indifference it is a very bad thing?

Surely you know that if a man can’t be cured of churchgoing, the next best thing is to send him all over the neighbourhood looking for the church that ‘suits’ him until he becomes a taster or connoisseur of churches. The reasons are obvious. In the first place the parochial organisation should always be attacked, because, being a unity of place and not of likings, it brings people of different classes and psychology together in the kind of unity the Enemy [in Screwtape’s case, the Enemy to whom he refers, is God] desires. The congregational principle, on the other hand, makes each church into a kind of club, and finally, if all goes well, into a coterie or faction.

In the second place, the search for a ‘suitable’ church makes the man a critic where the Enemy wants him to be a pupil. . . . [One nearby congregation boasts a] Vicar is a man who has been so long engaged in watering down the faith to make it easier for a supposedly incredulous and hard-headed congregation that it is now he who shocks his parishioners with his unbelief, not vice versa. He has undermined many a soul’s Christianity. His conduct of the services is also admirable. In order to spare the laity all ‘difficulties’ he has deserted both the lectionary and the appointed psalms and now, without noticing it, revolves endlessly round the little treadmill of his fifteen favourite psalms and twenty favourite lessons. . . .

[While encouraging church shopping], all the purely indifferent things – candles and clothes and what not – are an admirable ground for our activities. We have quite removed from men’s minds what that pestilent fellow Paul used to teach about food and other unessentials – namely, that the human without scruples should always give in to the human with scruples.

You would think they could not fail to see the application. You would expect to find the ‘low’ churchman genuflecting and crossing himself lest the weak conscience of his ‘high’ brother should be moved to irreverence, and the ‘high’ one refraining from these exercises lest he should betray his ‘low’ brother into idolatry.

And so it would have been but for our ceaseless labour. Without that the variety of usage within the Church of England might have become a positive hotbed of charity and humility.

A New Source of Oxygen

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 MalacandraPhilologist 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.