C.S. Lewis Shows Up to an Evangelical Talk About Him
What happens when the dead person whose ideas you are talking about actually shows up to talk for oneself?
“Welcome to Lewis Center of W. College, the Harvard of Evangelical Christian College,” says the host, Dr. T, a theology professor with a hip trimmed grey goatee wearing a faded Levi’s jeans. He air quotes “Harvard” and “Evangelical.”
“We’re here to talk about C.S. Lewis, an Evangelical Christian,” he air quotes the all-important E-word again. “Lewis, of course, didn’t know he was an Evangelical, but that is how we should all live our Christian lives, not self-righteous, but subconsciously righteous.”
Thunderous claps. A young man in the back howls, “Yeah!”
“His fantasy series, Chronicles of Narnia, is the gospel in children’s story. When Hollywood produced The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe, they were doing evangelism for us. The Lion of Narnia is the Lion of Judah.”
Dr. T pauses. When that last line on the symbolism of the lion came to him, he was greatly pleased, and thought it would get a five-minute applause.
“Well, there’s been a little controversy brewing about C.S. Lewis’ faith. Whether he was quote unquote a true Evangelical,” the host laughs, and the audience follows right on cue. “Some say his Narnia stories, even with the great Christ figure Aslan roaming every scene is too pagan with witches and talking animals, making animals reason like human beings implying animals share in the Imago Dei.”
Booing spreads across the crowd like wildfire and someone shouts, “We ain’t monkeys!” and the crowd erupts! They chant, “Six-days!” Dr. T loves the football-game-like testosterone in the room, but he pretends to want to calm them with the wave of his hand. “Well I have invited a C.S. Lewis expert to debate Lewis’ evangelicalism. Please welcome Dr….”
Dr. T can’t finish his introduction because he is open-mouthed, for onto the stage enters not a Lewis expert but Lewis himself, oval face, a bald pate, kindly avuncular except for the piercing gaze of his intelligent eyes. Lewis sinks into the sofa and sips the cup of water.
“You are…” Dr. T stammers.
“Clive Staples Lewis,” Lewis rescues Dr. T from his momentary loss of coolness, “and since you are talking about my faith, I decided to talk for myself since I don’t trust anyone with my faith, especially experts. Experts can never change their minds once they make a statement. Quite a Catch 22 isn’t it? An expert can never correct his mistake, his authority based on unrepentance.”
The logic is lost on Dr. T for he is self-absorbed. He is frantically strategizing on how he can benefit from this crazy turn of events, a chance to prove that he is the only true expert of Lewis, that he knows Lewis better than Lewis himself!
“Then let’s get right to it. People say that your Chronicles of Narnia has pagan elements. That’s not true, is it?”
“Of course, it’s true,” Lewis chuckles, “a bit of old Norse mythology, a bit…”
Dr. T interrupts Lewis, “you mean you borrowed some elements of storytelling, not that your philosophy is tainted by paganism.”
Lewis crosses his legs. “We’re all tainted by paganism. The wisdom is to see what’s true in them. Even the church! If we think our image of God’s not tainted simply because we label ourselves Christians, we are the real pagans. You American Christians are pagan as they come!”
Dr. T is peeved. “We’re a Christian nation!”
“Yes, with your Easter bunnies and eggs. Spring festival only asexualized. Gifts placed under the Christmas tree? As if the tree was a great altar? Cookies and milk left for the bearded God? Very American and very pagan.”
“We don’t put the tree in the sanctuary.”
“All the same.”
Dr. T is poised to countermand but Lewis begins packing his cigar. “We don’t smoke here?” Dr. T says.
“I do.”
“It’s a sin.”
“Sin? How about a pint of Guinness? My friends and I used to go to a pub, Inkling, where…”
Dr. T eyes light up, his teeth glimmering, “You’ll be happy to know we evangelicals are now cool with drinking. We’re not fundies!” The crowd roars. Dr. T is above himself and Lewis doesn’t understand why Dr. is so self-congratulatory about drinking, but Lewis nevertheless congratulates him on his moral courage to drink beer.
“And free market,” Lewis puts down the cigar and picks up their conversation again once the crowd quiets. “Pagan. The invisible hand of the market that bring everything into the right balance. Spooky as a fairy god-mother turning a peasant into a princess.”
Dr. T feels he’s being interrogated, so he leans forward, chin on his interlocked hands. “People think you’re not evangelical. I disagree.”
Dr. T waits for a word of thanks from Lewis for his allyship but Lewis stares back waiting for the questions he sees Dr.T is afraid to ask.
“You reject evolution, don’t you?”
“I believe God created and I accept evolution.”
“Literal Adam & Eve, right?”
“Consciousness and soul are mystery…I guess the first evolved beings could’ve been a couple, but I highly doubt their names were Adam and Eve. I mean Adam means ‘dust.” It’s a myth! And kind of funny, the man from dust is called dust.” Lewis chuckles but Dr. T’s face is serious as a man who needs to use the bathroom.
“Bible’s inerrant?!”
“Bible tells us about God and us.”
“Born again?”
“Baptized.”
“You’re dodging the questions!”
“Your questions are irrelevant.”
“So, you are an Evangelical!” Dr. T is standing up.
“I’m a Christian.”
“You are British. You wrote ‘Mere Christianity.’ That makes you an honorary American and an Evangelical.”
“You know,” there is a note of frustration in Lewis’s voice, “There were Christians before there were Americans.”
“Yes! But we recovered true Christianity. Just look at our mega churches and seminaries.”
The clock strikes twelve and students start filing out for lunch. Dr.T and Lewis stand to shake hands.
While Dr. T whispers to Lewis through his commercial smile, “I like you better dead.”
Lewis smirks, “Yes, people preferred Christ dead too.”