A Love-Hate Relationship
So we just got our own DVD copy of The Voyage of the Dawn Treader, and because Tommy's been sick these past few days we've watched it several times. The visuals are fantastic, and I've thoroughly enjoyed seeing how well the filmmakers brought the story to the silver screen. The Dawn Treader itself is a beautiful rendition of Lewis' description, the standing wave bordering Aslan's Country is incredible, and the Dufflepuds just flat-out rocked!
But the film is ill at a deeper level. Beneath the visual appeal and the fun action, Hollywood killed something at the soul of Lewis' story. Hollywood murdered Reepicheep.
No Clue
Here's what I mean. Modern movie-making understands swordfighting, CGI magic effects, and saving the world through heroic acts of individual triumph. Hollywood does these things well. But it doesn't understand - genuinely, it has no blasted clue - how honor, nobility, authority, and selfless sacrifice work. Thus it has no way of understanding what CS Lewis was actually depicting in his novel. This cluelessness is evident everywhere in the film, but perhaps nowhere more clearly than in the interactions between the honorable mouse-knight Reepicheep and the monstrously irritating Eustace Clarence Scrubb.
Comparing one scene in the film with that of the novel makes this clear. At one point in the movie the selfish Eustace -- a snotty, self-centered brat who is swept into Narnia against his wishes -- steals food from the ship's galley. He's caught in the act by Reepicheep, who makes a casual reference to theft of rations being a capital offense at sea and then challenges Eustace to a duel. But not to worry: none of this is serious in the film. Hollywood's Reepicheep does not have capital punishment in mind, nor is he concerned with honor, or the difference between right and wrong. Rather, Hollywood Reepicheep simply wants to help Eustace learn to swordfight, so that he can eventually become a hero. The "duel" turns out to be nothing of the sort. Instead, it's a one-on-one lesson in swordplay (how this relates back to the stealing of rations is left unexplained).
Compare this scene with the same one in Lewis' book, which begins not with Eustace stealing food but rather with him grabbing Reepicheep's tail and swinging him around just to be mean. Despite being swept off his paws in this most undignified manner, the knight-mouse deftly draws his sword in mid air and manages to deliver two piercing stabs to Eustace's hand in quick succession causing (gasp!) real, actual injuries. Of course this forces the brat to drop the mouse, who then immediately challenges him to a duel to the death. Significantly, Eustace is flabbergasted at this demand and runs away, with the mouse in hot pursuit. When Eustace finally refuses to fight, it is (again significantly) Reepicheep's turn to be stunned. He's shocked that anyone would lack so much honor as to refuse a duel after issuing an insult. So to teach Eustace a lesson about honor, Reepicheep (in front of everyone else on board) turns the flat of his blade on Eustace and beats several welts into his skin, using his sword like a switch. Now Eustace, Lewis is careful to note, has never been spanked by anyone before, either parent or teacher, and in fact has been taught that such things are barbaric, so this is a new experience for him. All the others on board, however, approve of the beating and Eustace is forced to mumble apologies as the scene ends.
Two Completely Different Lessons
Do you see the depth of the difference? It's not just that the scene played out a little differently on screen than it did on page - that happens when books are turned into films and it's no big deal. The difference is one of honor, of authority, of principle. Of worldview. You see, Lewis is showing how Eustace has been transported into a world that operates by a completely different set of rules than those of his world (20th century England). In fact, I said earlier that Hollywood murdered Reepicheep but they actually murdered Eustace as well, because depicting 20th century England is exactly Lewis' purpose for Eustace in this story. Eustace is the ultimate Enlightenment-besotted 20th century secular rationalist: a smug young boy who arrogantly thinks we've outgrown all old superstitions. Consequently he builds his whole life simply on "scientific fact" and is thus "too smart" to believe in old magic tales (in other words, religion). In Lewis' book Eustace reflects the spirit of his (our) day, believing that chivalry is an insult to women, that pacifism is always an enlightened position, and that the Medieval belief in honor and codes of conduct is all hogwash. By bringing Eustace to Narnia, Lewis shows him (and through him, us) just how wrong he is, and how foolish all his "enlightened" modern sensibilities are.
The Transformation Of Eustace
The transformation of Eustace - depicted most clearly in the dragon episode - is one of the main lesson of the book. Eustace goes from a smug secular rationalist to a humble, honor-driven follower of Aslan the True King. And he only accomplishes this with Aslan's help (and a small assist from the flat of Reepicheep's blade). This is totally different than the transformation Eustace experiences in the film. There Eustace becomes "a great warrior" under Reepicheep's tutelage. And the lessons the mouse taught him don't consist of just swordplay, but rather of long-winded babbling about how Eustace is actually "an extraordinary person" deep down inside (despite a total lack of evidence). These drivelings sound like pages right out of a contemporary self-help book, or daytime psycho-therapeutic TV program.
Which of course, they are.
And that's how Hollywood murdered Reepicheep, and Eustace as well. In the film Eustace is a deprived little boy who just doesn't believe enough in himself, while in the book he's an empty modern secularist who, without realizing it, has denied everything that makes life worth living. In the film Reepicheep is a psychologist-tutor who helps Eustace discover all the "amazing potential" locked inside him, but in the book Reepicheep embodies everything modern man has scoffed at: the devoted follower of Aslan who is committed to principle and honor at all costs.
And perhaps most importantly, in the film salvation for Eustace comes through self-actualization under the guidance of a therapist, whereas in the book salvation for Eustace comes from realizing that he is wrong and Reepicheep is right; a lesson that began with the flat of Reepicheep's blade smacking his flesh and only ended when the razor tips of Aslans' own claws ripped into his very heart.
The same fundamental missing of Lewis' point is evident throughout the film at almost every turn. As the credits of the movie roll and I listen to the film's theme song waft through our family room ("We can be the kings and queens of anything if we believe, it's written in the stars above...") I realize that Eustace learned far more from Reepicheep than Hollywood managed to.
The Murder of Reepicheep
Why We Read
Are You Listening To Me?
Ever had the experience of talking with someone who isn't really listening to you? You know, they hear your words just long enough to form their own thought or their own idea, and at that point they disengage from what you're saying and just wait for a chance to jump in and talk about their thing. And of course you know they weren't really listening to you. They weren't interested in trying to follow your train of thought, or connect with your heart or your mind. They're only interested in making public the private goings-on of their own little mental space.
Amy and I talked about this just the other day, and we've had similar conversations with a Filipino friend named Lidj who writes a reflective, heartfelt blog called Crown of Beauty. There are those who listen just long enough to look for an opportunity to make their own point, or to get a quick shot of inspiration themselves. They hear only in order to speak, not in order to listen. On the other hand there are those who listen in order to connect with the heart of the speaker. They invest themselves in following another's flow of thought, and seek to get out of their own shoes as best they can to walk in the speaker's shoes. I have learned the value of this from people like my bride and our friend Lidj.
You know, I find it telling that ours is a world full of lonely people. And at the same time it is also a world full of people who are not great listeners. Coincidence? I think not.
Blowing Out Mental Cobwebs
C.S. Lewis applied the same thinking to what - and how - we read. He once wrote that we should all make sure that we read some old books; books that were written in a totally different time period than our own. The benefit is that these books can help us not get stuck in the thinking of our own time. Old books, Lewis wrote, are like "the clean sea breeze of the centuries blowing through our minds." Reading books from people who lived long before us, and who saw the world differently, gives us perspective and stretches our understanding. In this way, old books help us grow as people and allow us to see things we wouldn't have seen if our thinking was limited only to the vantage point of our own times.
What Lewis was getting at is a problem common to all people: we're comfortable with what we already know. Because of this we're often not terribly interested in entertaining new thoughts or new ideas. After all, being stretched or challenged takes energy, work, and the willingness to tolerate a bit of discomfort. Left to ourselves, we sometimes feel very little incentive to want to change.
What Did He Say?
I find it telling that ours is a world full of people who increasingly know no perspective but their own. And at the same time it is also a world full of people who do not read for an author's meaning. Coincidence? I think not.
When we read, we tend to read for what we want to get out of it. Does it inspire me? Intrigue me? Entertain me? If so, I call it good writing. If not, I don't. In either case the author's intent has not registered as something of significance. We're focused on what we received, not necessarily on what the writer was saying. After all, if it doesn't inspire or benefit me in some immediate way, why should I care what an author wants to say?
Understand First, React Second
When I teach Christian Worldview to adult undergraduate students, I tell them that if they want a good grade from me they have to do two things on every assignment in the following order: first, understand what the author/speaker is saying. Comprehend his flow of thought well enough that you can give it back to me in your own words accurately. Then, and only then, may you move on to the next step, which is to evaluate what he is saying and agree or disagree.
Why do I make such a point of this? Because it doesn't come naturally to us. We tend to quickly get wind of where an author or speaker is going, and we immediately begin making judgments about it before we've even heard him out. We know what we're comfortable with and we have little interest in being stretched beyond it. So we prejudge what others say before they've even finished saying it, which is a defense mechanism of sorts in that it gives us permission to stay comfortable, and to prevent new thoughts from challenging us.
The challenge for the students is a difficult one. I issue this challenge in part to get non-Christian students to at least understand Christianity on its own terms, not just some popular misconception of it. But you know what? The Christian students in my classes are just as bad at this as everyone else. Throughout the course we look at some non-Christian worldviews too and I tell them the same thing: learn it first, fairly and accurately. Then you may respond. But this is hard for many of them to do. The moment they get wind that an idea came from somewhere other than the Bible, their brains shut down and all the emotional defenses go up.
The students who do take me up on the challenge all end up saying the same thing, whether they're Christians or not. They tell me the class was informative, challenging, and they'd never thought about their beliefs in this way before. Many of them go so far as to say they weren't even aware that they could think about their beliefs this way. Because they accepted my challenge to understand first, they leave the class with a whole new set of tools to process what they believe and why. They're better people for having been stretched. For having listened.
Sacred Stretching
And all of this affects our relationship with God. Too often, I think, Christians approach the Bible or the Sunday morning sermon with exactly the same mentality. How often do we open the Bible looking for good advice, looking for a nugget of truth to carry us through our day, or looking for feelings of inspiration, pure and simple? We come to the Bible with our questions, with our felt needs. We come with our agenda. And we may not be listening.
But what of God? What is his agenda? What's he trying to say? What did a Biblical author have in mind when he was writing the text we're looking at? What was his point, what was he trying to get across? Do such questions even occur to us?
God has given us his word to increase our understanding. He does not merely offer us comfort, inspiration, and warm feelings (though these things are sometimes part of the package). Rather, the Ancient of Days beckons us to his throne so that he can teach us, stretch us, and make us new creatures. He does not intend to increase our comfort with who we are. He intends to unmake who we are, so he can remake us in the image of his Son.
The Old Book
So I think CS Lewis was right: we should read old books to expand our perspective and broaden our horizons. But as Lewis himself pointed out, this only works if we read for the author's meaning; if we view the reading of a book the same way we would view a tour through a museum, in which we go to learn and a docent instructs us in things we did not know. Authors of good old books are docents of knowledge. Let them teach you.
And perhaps we should read The Old Book with the same idea in mind. Perhaps we should avoid approaching the Bible firmly ensconced in our existing, limited point of view, determined to find something that fits who we already are. Rather, let us come to the Scripture as the storehouse of the knowledge of the Holy One, and let his Holy Spirit be the Docent of Things High and Lofty.
These things may indeed be too high for us now. But if we let him have his way we'll find that he will re-make us so thoroughly that we will be able to bear them. If only we'll open ourselves up to the adventure.
Learning to listen - to read for understanding of the author rather than just for affirmation of what I already know - is a priceless skill. When this discipline takes root in us it actually changes our character. It makes us good listeners, good friends, good people. And most important of all, it makes us good followers of Jesus Christ.
As Jesus himself said, "he who has ears, let him hear."
Politics, Persuading, and the Moral Law
I just saw this article, which is a more thorough, and more eloquent, version of the point I've been making with regard to Christians and politics. It's nice to find someone else who agrees with you, and does an even better job explaining himself! The article is long, but I recommend the read - well worth it.
The main point the author makes is that we concerned Christians need to frame our arguments in terms that are accessible to non-Christian Americans. We're deeply concerned about things like abortion, and the breakdown of marriage & family. So we need to learn how to make the case that abortion & family breakdown are bad for our country, whether you're a Bible-believing Christian or not.
The way to do so is to utilize Moral Law - the innate sense all people have of right and wrong, which is accessible through reason. This is the tool C.S. Lewis used so effectively to impact the thinking of millions of secular people in Book 1 of his classic Mere Christianity. And as I wrote previously, it's the tool William Wilberforce used in his anti-slavery crusade, and it's the tool MLK used with such success during the Civil Rights era.
A sample from the article, which illustrates the difference between making a purely "religious" argument and making a more broadly accessible, moral argument:
"Rather than argue that abortion is contrary to God’s law and that we need to bring the Constitution into conformity with God’s law, social conservatives should argue that as a matter of scientific fact the child in a mother’s womb is a whole, living human being, and that as a matter of moral truth the direct killing of any peaceable human being is gravely unjust..."
"Nor should social conservatives be afraid to argue for maintaining marriage’s structure. If marriage isn’t the union of one man and one woman coming together as husband and wife to become father and mother to any children their marital love may bring, then social conservatives should demand that their opponents explain what marriage is. Is it simply the union of any consenting pair of sexually active adults? If so, then why only two? And why does it have to be exclusive and permanent—why not open or temporary “marriage”? Indeed, if marriage isn’t about a bodily union, then why limit it to sexual relationships at all? How about codependent relatives? How are marriage and children connected? Do children need mothers and fathers, or not? These debates can and, in fact, must be had at the level of reason."
Book Review - Mere Christianity by C.S. Lewis
- The core tenets of the Christian worldview are explained and compared with popular alternatives. Christianity is validated as the best explanation of life as we know it through comparison, logic, and human experience; not through a priori assumptions about the Bible's veracity.
- Non-Christian readers get a good explanation of the Christian faith that does not demean them or insult their intelligence. I think this is why so many people like Lewis: agree or disagree, one finds interacting with him emotionally nonthreatening, though intellectually rigorous.
- Christian readers get a picture of what "thinking Christianly" looks like - something churches nowadays generally do not excel at, I'm sad to say. In an era of Christian practice where the role of the mind has gone out of style and personal feelings are heavily overvalued, Lewis presents a refreshing look how I believe God intends the mind to be used in the life of faith.
I think that last point is why this book has been such an enduring hit among Christians: paradoxically, it's popular because it's so novel in Christian circles. A quick walk down the aisle of a typical Christian bookstore reveals very little substance when comapared to Lewis. Authors don't write at that depth much anymore, because we readers generally don't buy their books if they do. And the lives of Jesus' followers are impoverished as a result.
Prince Caspian
In just over a week, the film Prince Caspian hits theaters. This 4th book in C.S. Lewis' Narnia series is part great adventure story and part allusion to the Christian life. Caspian is a story about belief, and about restoring things to the way they're meant to be. Two more biblical themes could hardly be imagined.
Belief: In Prince Caspian Narnia is a different world than when we last saw it. No longer do fawns dance in the forests, or beavers and horses talk. Instead Narnia has been overrun and inhabited by a race of humans who have no time for such foolishness. These Telmarines (as they're known) are far too "sophisticated" to believe in Centaurs, in Lion kings, or in any of the magic that made Narnia. The parallel with modern secular life is hard to miss. I bet if Richard Dawkins had lived in Narnia at this time he'd have written a book called The Aslan Delusion.
It is within this world of brute, lifeless skepticism that the adventure takes place, as young Prince Caspian (the rightful heir to the throne of Narnia) seeks to dicover if there's any truth to the stories of old Narnia. And he discovers, as seekers do, that there is when he finds the few remaining "Old Narnians" hiding out in the forests. Yet the quest for truth extracts a price: Caspian has chosen sides, and now opposes the dominant force of his world. Ah, the parallels!
And it is this world to which the 4 Pevensie children return - a very different Narnia than the one they left. They have some new lessons to learn about serving truth in this later world. While Aslan was right by their side in the first film, he is much more aloof and difficult to find in this one. It's only as the children, beginning with the ever-faithful Lucy, put their trust in him that they finally find him. Thus belief becomes the key step in the quest for truth.
Not the way it's supposed to be: Caspian is ultimately about defeating the evil Telmarines and restoring Prince Caspian to his rightful place on the throne. But more than a story about a single ruler, it's a story about restoring Narnia to its original, intended glory. The allusion to God's plan of redeeming this world, buying it back from it's fallen state and creating a New Heavens and New Earth is potent.
And finally, Caspian is just a great adventure story! Yet aside from the raw entertainment value of a good adventure, which is considerable IMO (I'm a sucker for a good swashbuckling swordfight any day!) there is a lesson here too. Aslan may be there and truth may be found, but nothing is certain unless the characters each take their place in the battle, risk danger, and sacrifice. To follow Aslan in the service of restoring the true Narnia is to spend oneself in a worthy cause. It's all reminiscent of the Apostle Paul's comparing the Christian life to an endurance race - only one who competes can get the prize.
I can scarcely imagine a more entertaining way to visualize Biblical truths.
Prudence (a.k.a. Think Before You Act)
I’m about half-way through re-reading the book Mere Christianity, and what strikes me is that C. S. Lewis addresses the question I asked in my first post: why are some Christians not more excited about thinking? Lewis talks about this in his chapter on the Cardinal Virtues (Book 3, chapter 2).
There Lewis notes that the classic virtue Prudence really amounts to simply thinking before we act. In Lewis’ words: "Prudence means practical common sense, taking the trouble to think out what you are doing and what is likely to come of it."
But then Lewis notes how unpopular such thinking is among Christians. Why? He says many of us use the idea of ‘coming to Jesus like little children’ as an excuse to not work at developing our minds. If true, this observation is really an answer to my question. According to Lewis many of us see thinking as a threat to authentic, childlike faith.
I would state Dr. Lewis’ observation a bit differently. As a pastor I often run across Christians who seem glad that there are a few in the church who care about theology, thinking, and using the mind (someone actually told me this once). But they don’t feel that the majority of Christians (including themselves) need to trouble much with serious thinking. Do you see the assumption behind this statement? Thinking is seen as a specialized activity for a select few. Beneficial to the church as a whole, perhaps, but not necessary for the life of the average Christian.
Lewis disagrees, arguing that "childlike faith" does not preclude developing our minds to their fullest potential – whatever that potential may be. He assures us that good Christians need not earn PhD’s or become professors. In his very British way of putting things, Lewis says, "It is, of course, quite true that God will not love you any the less, or have any less use for you, if you happen to have been born with a very second-rate brain. [uh, thanks! I think…] He has room for people with very little sense, but he wants everyone to use what sense they have."
Lewis is far from seeing the mind as a threat to authentic faith. In fact he assumes just the opposite – that a mind developed to its full potential is a necessary tool for the Christian life. I, for one, couldn’t agree more.
On Climbing Without Gear
Can I ask you a question?
The metaphor behind this blog is that of climbing a high peak. To me it’s a useful image of the Christian life: the attempt to master the truth God has revealed, with the result that we see things from his lofty perspective. Climbing mountains is no easy task – it requires work and discipline, but the view is worth it.
Which leads me to the subject of this post. It seems that a lot of us Jesus-follower-types never get too far from the lodge at the foot of the mountain. That’s hardly an original observation, I know. But it’s got me thinking: why not? I’d like to propose at least one reason (I’m sure there are many): we may be trying to ascend to lofty heights without using any gear.
What I mean is, we’re trying to climb toward the lofty peak of truth, but many of us don’t seem too keen on using one of the main pieces of equipment God has given us for the climb: the mind. Yes, I think it’s fair to picture our mind as a tool God equipped us with to progress in Christ-likeness.
For example, we all know that a central aspect of the Christian life is to gradually become more like Jesus (that’s exactly what "spiritual maturity" means in the Bible). But "becoming like Jesus" means learning to see life the way Jesus sees it, and having the same goals, priorities and passions that Jesus has.
And this is where the mind comes in. You see, I don’t know how Jesus sees life, or what his goals and priorities are, until I apply my mind to understand his mind as he’s revealed it in the Bible. I think that’s why Paul said we’re supposed to be "transformed by the renewing of [our] mind," in Romans 12.
Of course understanding how Jesus thinks doesn’t guarantee that I’ll become more like him. But not understanding how Jesus thinks does guarantee that I won't become more like him.
Which brings me back to Christians who get stranded shortly after leaving the lodge. Is one of the reasons because they left in tennis shoes and gym shorts, neglecting the most basic equipment? Harry Blamires thought so. This student of CS Lewis wrote a phenomenal book called The Christian Mind, which opens with the simple observation that "There is no longer a Christian mind." What he meant was that Christians don’t think "Christianly" anymore, largely because we’ve given up the idea of serious thinking at all.
So at last, my question: Is the mind vital to the Christian life, an adjunct part of it, or outright hostile to it? Why do many Christians seem to think that study and thinking isn't critical to Christian living, and may even be a hinderance to it?
Posts
