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C.S. Lewis

C.S. Lewis


Clive Staples Lewis was born in Ireland, in Belfast on 29 November 1898. His mother was a devout Christian and made efforts to influence his beliefs. When she died in his early youth her influence waned and Lewis was subject to the musings and mutterings of his friends who were decidedly agnostic and atheistic. It would not be until later, in a moment of clear rationality that he first came to a belief in God and later became a Christian.

C. S. Lewis volunteered for the army in 1917 and was wounded in the trenches in World War I. After the war, he attended university at Oxford. Soon, he found himself on the faculty of Magdalen College where he taught Mediaeval and Renaissance English.

Throughout his academic career he wrote clearly on the topic of religion. His most famous works include the Screwtape Letters and the Chronicles of Narnia. The atmosphere at Oxford and Cambridge tended to skepticism. Lewis used this skepticism as a foil. He intelligently saw Christianity as a necessary fact that could be seen clearly in science.

"Surprised by Joy" is Lewis's autobiography chronicling his reluctant conversion from atheism to Christianity in 1931.
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So it was agreed: we would while we were here seek the whole of the Oxford thing, together when we could, apart when we must. And I did, most faithfully, recount all to her, and in the end what was to prove the deepest part of our Oxford days we shared completely. One
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Heaven itself [...] would be— must be— a coming home.
topics: heaven , home  
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Death is no respecter of love.
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Most of the people who reject Christianity know almost nothing of what they are rejecting: those who condemn what they do not understand are, surely, little men.
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Honesty is better than any easy comfort.
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If I must bear it, though, I would bear it— find the whole meaning of it, taste the whole of it.
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It’s hard, since Noah, not to see a rainbow as a sign of hope.
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A longing for eternity is built-in to us all
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What was so odd was that quite a lot of people, not just sheep but highly intelligent people, did apparently believe it. T. S. Eliot, for instance. Or Eddington—in fact, quite a few physicists, the very last people one would expect to be taken in by it. Philosophers, too. Was it possible—was there any chance—that there was more to it than I had thought? No, certainly not. Of course not! Still, it was odd. Damned odd.
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The Shining Barrier—the shield of our love. A walled garden. A fence around a young tree to keep the deer from nibbling it. A fortified place with the walls and watchtowers gleaming white like the cliffs of England. The Shining Barrier—we called it so from the first—protecting the green tree of our love. And yet in another sense it was our love itself, made strong within, that was the Shining Barrier.
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But why does love need to be guarded? Against what enemies? We looked about us and saw the world as having become a hostile and threatening place where standards of decency and courtesy were perishing and war loomed gigantic. A world where love did not endure.
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It must be that, whatever its promise, love does not by itself endure. But why? What was the failure behind the failure of love ?
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The killer of love is creeping separateness. Inloveness is a gift of the gods, but then it is up to the lovers to cherish or to ruin. Taking love for granted, especially after marriage. Ceasing to do things together. Finding separate interests. ‘We’ turning into T . Self. Self-regard: what I want to do. Actual selfishness only a hop away. This was the way of creeping separateness.
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Sometimes the two of them had gone out in the night from his cabin to steal a watermelon or two from some farmer—stolen watermelons are sweeter—and brought them back where, on top of the haystack beside the cabin, they would eat the dripping hearts while bats flitted across the stars. His
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One of the three points of my childhood code — which is something of a key to this book — was ‘Never betray a friend.’ That might imply that friendship was important to me: and so it was, to me and to Davy, too. We believed in deep and genuine friendship, and we held our friends and our families very dear and were intensely loyal to them.
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What is important, perhaps, is that the moment was a culmination of all we had ever dreamt: not just Grey Goose, not just the good life—the tuneful life without the pressure of time—but also the green tree of the pagan love flourishing within the Shining Barrier.
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The books of course had shaped his mind in a hundred ways, especially perhaps the poetry. He thought of the master at his school who had awakened him to the glory of Shakespeare, and his own discovery of Shelley. So many of the books, the best-loved ones, had been about England, and of course the poems were England itself. As a child England had seemed much nearer than New York or the cowboy west.
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He remembered his own code that he had made up when he was about twelve, a code of three points only: ‘Never betray a friend. Never betray beauty. Never betray the sword.’ By that last he had meant being brave when he was afraid.
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But meanwhile what about poor Mr Tumnus?" said Lucy. "The quickest way you can help him is by going to meet Aslan," said Mr Beaver, "once he’s with us, then we can begin doing things.
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This is the land of Narnia,' said the Faun, 'where we are now; all that lies between that lamppost and the great castle of Cair Paravel on the eastern sea. And you-you have come from the wild woods of the west?
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