A Connection Between Higher Taxes and Freedom of Thought

Is economic freedom important?

There is a slice of American society, many of whom are on the political right, for whom economic freedom—usually characterized by a desire for a libertarian or near anarcho-capitalist society—is an ultimate good that is good in and of itself.

In response, some on the left, especially young people who have lived in the extreme prosperity of the modern West, see economic freedom as an evil to be curbed through “more effective” redistribution of wealth through violence (think the Bezos guillotine protests) or, at the very least, expansive government programs fueled by high taxes.

For some, high taxes are a comparatively small threat when the “major threat of the far right” is concentration camps and a rather pointless, though exceedingly bloody battle in World War I.

One certified blue-checked media personality recently commented: “Seems poignant that the major threat of the far left is higher taxes, while the major threat of the far right is, well, Dachau or Verdun.”

This is, no doubt, a flippant comment in a larger conversation (albeit one that occurred in public), but it is illustrative of a tendency of some to minimize the powerful effect of growing concentrations of power, whether in government or in corporations.

There is no question that there is more than an undercurrent of hostility toward civilization on the far right. However, it remains an open question whether the “major threat of the far left” is something a bit more significant than higher taxes. The violence of Antifa and some of the riots from the summer of 2020 caused by agitators from the far-left indicate that on both poles there is cause for concern.

The Value of Economic Freedom

But the question remains whether higher taxes are really an insignificant threat.

I think it is entirely possible to believe that higher taxes are not “the major threat of the far left” while still believing them to be a significant threat to a healthy society. Of course, that belief would depend on recognizing the value of economic freedom.

Economic freedom is necessary for human flourishing, but it is not sufficient for human flourishing.

An entirely free market (which the U.S. is very far from) would not make people holy and happy. In fact, as we’ve seen through the rise of modernity, economic freedom can leave people nearly as miserable (and sometimes more so) than certain forms of totalitarianism.

In the end, economic freedom does not produce happiness. However, economic freedom does enable, for those who are virtuous and especially in a (basically) virtuous society, the ability to thrive and fulfill the unique calling of being human.

The qualified value of economic freedom can be seen by the effects of its absence.

Alternatives to Economic Freedom

If, as some versions of socialism propose, the government regulates the amount of money a person can earn, then the government fundamentally has the power to police much of human activity.

All human activity is not economic. However, a great deal of human activity is economically engaged. Even “free” activities like worship depend on the economic ability to (a) afford leisure time (i.e., time not directed toward economic productivity) to gather for worship, (b) the ability for a community of like-minded individuals to cooperate and pool resources to fund a house of worship, a vocational pastor, and to support ministries that serve the common good. The economic support for these non-economic goods is enabled by some degree of economic freedom. One must have disposable income to support ideas and communities that one prefers.

Consider further that if the government holds the keys to all wealth, even through well-intentioned redistribution programs funded by confiscatory taxes, then they hold the keys to all ideologies. If disagreeing with the powers that be (especially if those powers are in favor of increased economic control of citizens) can lead to having funding choked off through job loss or increased taxation (which might be in the form of taxation of despised charitable groups, like churches, or preferential treatment of certain charities through access to grants, etc.), then freedom of thought and speech are greatly restricted.

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To be clear, the political right has often made mountains out of molehills here. Bad policies like the Affordable Care Act and the Green New Deal are not usually going to lead directly to the forms of economic control that full-on communism has. They will, thus, be unlikely to immediately exert totalitarian control over human thought.

But such soft-totalitarianism isn’t beyond the realm of possibility. Though the Affordable Care Act, for example, does not necessarily entail totalitarianism, the seeds for it have been made evident by the coercive power that has been used in the name of the ACA.

Although the law itself does not actually require funding birth-control or abortifacients, the overriding concern of the regulators responsible for administration of the Affordable Care Act has been coercing, through economic and legal means, groups that object to those medical technologies to fund them. It’s not enough to ensure that workers are medically shielded from significant emergencies; many on the left are insistent that conscientious objectors be forced to fund certain ideologically preferred treatments. For example, there has been a near-pathological focus by the Left on attacking the Little Sisters for the Poor by every means available to demand they fund abortion and abortifacients in strong opposition to their conscience.

For those watching the message is clear: “Fund the ‘medical’ services we prefer or stop existing in the public square. We are willing to use the force of law to force you to comply.”

The same voices that are attempting to claw back economic freedom from people are the ones that seem to be also bent on enforcing ideological homogeneity around their preferred theories. “Cancel culture” is a real thing. Now imagine if the thought leaders that have the power to enact “cancel culture” also have the ability to cut non-preferred individuals out from government benefits.

There may be no edict that declares that one must voice allegiance to ideologies like “white fragility,” but if only meager subsistence is possible apart from government support and if support from the government requires public support for particular ideologies, then the connection between economic freedom and the more basic freedom of conscience (or thought; or speech) becomes apparent.

This seems unthinkable in contemporary America, but dramatic shifts toward public tolerance of contrary ideas has happened rapidly within the history of the past century.

Economic Freedom and Free Thinking

Economic freedom is not sufficient for free thought or the flourishing of society, but it is necessary.

In an essay for a series entitled, “Is Progress Possible?,” C. S. Lewis notes this correlation between flourishing and economic freedom:

“I believe a man is happier, and happy in a richer way, if he has ‘the free-born mind’. But I doubt whether he can have this without economic independence, which the new society [the rising democratic socialism in the U.K.] is abolishing. For economic independence allows an education not controlled by Government and in adult life it is the man who needs, and asks, nothing of the Government who can criticize its acts and snap its fingers at its ideology. Read Montaigne; that’s the voice of a man with his legs under his own table, eating the mutton and turnips raised on his own land. Who will talk like that when the State is everyone’s schoolmaster and employer? Admittedly, when man was untamed, such liberty belonged only to the few. I know. Hence the horrible suspicion that our only choice is between the societies with few freemen and societies with none.”

Or, consider Vaclav Havel’s lengthy essay “The Power of the Powerless,” in which he recounts the soft-totalitarianism of the Soviet ruled Czechoslovakia, where a rebellious act by the green-grocer could be merely not putting up the most recent socialist propaganda in the midst of his produce. The government that controls the economy controls the ability to think and speak.

Threat of Higher Taxes

So the threat of higher taxes is not, perhaps, the major threat from the far-left. Their recently demonstrated willingness to storm cafes to demand people make hand gestures to support their cause, to throw their food on the ground, and to harass them for daring to have quiet conversation with a friend or family member that doesn’t specifically advocate some twisted idea of “justice” are a much deeper threat. Along with that threat is the increasing violence of Antifa, whose methods look more and more like the sort of jackbooted thuggery that they claim to be resisting.

But the threat of an unending expansion of government along the lines proposed by some on the far left, including the outlines explicitly found in proponents of the Green New Deal, are real. It’s more than just higher taxes, but the ability to control the economy to stifle differing opinions.

It seems like hyperbole or slippery slope argumentation to some, but based on the words and behavior of the far left, the less unlikely such attempts to grasp power appear. The most virulent elements on the right and left are still marginal, though they tend to get disproportionate amounts of attention due to the nature of clicks and social networks.

The deeper question for those concerned about the negative effects of the polarized left and right is how to find common cause, create space for cooperation toward mutual concerns, and carve out appropriate space for conscience among increasingly divided understanding of good. That will require a more careful navigation of the significant dangers of the far left and right than simply labeling every disfavored policy on the left “socialism” or denying any concerns about freedom from the right as “selfish individualism” or “fear mongering.”

C. S. Lewis on Christianity as a Means to an End

The genius of C. S. Lewis is, perhaps, most clearly evident in his devotionally rewarding, theologically rich, and whimsical book, The Screwtape Letters. Those brief snippets of supposed letters from a senior devil to a junior one get at many of the issues that were wrong with Christianity in his day, which happen to be remarkably similar to those that are wrong in our day.

In Letter 25, Screwtape writes to Wormwood:

“The real trouble about the set your patient is living is that it is merely Christianity. . . . What we want, if men become Christians at all, is to keep them in the state of mind I call ‘Christianity AND.’ You know––Christianity and the Crisis, Christianity and the New Psychology, Christianity and the New Order, Christianity and Faith Healing, Christianity and Psychical Research, Christianity and Vegetarianism, Christianity and Spelling Reform. If they must be Christians let them at least be Christians with a difference. Substitute for faith itself some Fashion with a Christian colouring.”

Depending on who reads that paragraph the object to the right of the “And” will vary. It could be social justice, anti-racism, prosperity, comfort, political conservatism, or doctrinal orthodoxy (when pursued for its own sake). In other words, this isn’t a “left” or “right” issue, it is one that can impact all Christians and often the “And” is adopted in the name of making Christianity purer and more proper.

In Letter 23, we get prelude to the “Christianity And” discussion:

“We do want, and want very much, to make men treat Christianity as a means; preferably, of course, as a means to their own advancement, but, failing that, as a means to anything––even to social justice. The thing to do is to get a man at first to value social justice as a thing which the Enemy [God] demands, and then work him on to the stage at which he values Christianity because it may produce social justice. For the Enemy will not be used as a convenience. Men or nations who think they can revive the Faith in order to make a good society might just as well think they can use the stairs of Heaven as a short cut to the nearest chemist’s shop. Fortunately it is quite easy to coax humans round this little corner. Only today I have found a passage in a Christian writer where he recommends his own version of Christianity on the ground that ‘only such a faith can outlast the death of old cultures and the birth of new civilisations.’ You see the little rift? ‘Believe this, not because it is true, but for some other reason.’ That’s the game.”

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To be clear, Lewis prized actual social justice. Many casual readers of Lewis would be surprised at just how much he wrote on particular social issues of his time in a wide range of periodicals. In some areas he was quite advanced for his time and in other areas he sounds like the dinosaur he claimed to be. But the man was always arguing toward truth from Christianity. He was not attempting to use Christianity as a means to gain something else. This prevented him from falling into the trap of “Christianity And.”

The temptation in reading a moralist like Lewis is to look at what he wrote and say, “Boy, he gave those other guys a good drubbing. Wait until I post this quote on social media.”

The proper response to reading Lewis on these issues, especially in The Screwtape Letters, is to ask that more significant question, “In what ways have I fallen into the trap that Screwtape outlines.” If we are honest, we’ll probably find that we have been at least somewhat guilty at some point. As we pursue holiness, our task is more to knock off the rough edges of our own sanctification than to point out the problems of the other folks.


The Neglected C. S. Lewis - A Review

One of the greatest frustrations for fans of C. S. Lewis is the number of fake quotes attributed to him. Some of them seems as obvious as the old joke, “Never trust information from the internet – Abraham Lincoln.” Some of the misquotes are, however, less obvious fabrications that distort people’s understanding of C. S. Lewis and undermine his legacy by trivializing it.

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There are several contributing factors to the regular misquotation of C. S. Lewis. First, Lewis was a fabulous writer with a gift for turning a phrase, so he is imminently quotable. This is nowhere more apparent than in the exceedingly useful volume edited by Wayne Martindale and Jerry Root, The Quotable Lewis, which serves as a topical index of much of Lewis’s thought as well as fodder for social media posts.

A more significant contributor to the misquotation of Lewis is that too few people have read enough C. S. Lewis to recognize the difference between the true and counterfeit quotes. Many Christians know the name but have read nothing, so they like and share fake quotes out of ignorance. Many others have read some of the A-side works of C. S. Lewis: The Chronicles of Narnia, Screwtape Letters, Mere Christianity, or another of his more popular works. Nearly everything Lewis wrote has some value, so readers ought not to be discouraged. But there is an entire B-side of C. S. Lewis’s writings that are much more rarely discussed, even in academic research on Lewis and the Inklings.

Professionally, Lewis was a university level teacher of English literature. While his apologetic work was prolific and lucrative (he gave most of the money away), he also made significant contributions in his academic discipline. The books he wrote on literature and theory are often unknown even to fans of C. S. Lewis. And yet, his English Literature in the Sixteenth Century Excluding Drama was a landmark work comprehensively researched. His Discarded Image and Allegory of Love continue to be texts used in classes on medieval literature in both secular and religious academic settings.

Mark Neal and Jerry Root have set out to provide an introduction to some of the B-side works of C. S. Lewis in their recent book, The Neglected C. S. Lewis. In this relatively short volume, the authors explore some of the less popular works of Lewis that are no less valuable in understanding the mind of C. S. Lewis and, in fact, help illuminate what he does in some of his more popular works.

This is not a comprehensive volume. There are number of neglected works of Lewis that Neal and Root do not explore, likely because of space constraints. However, the volumes they do highlight are helpful. In the eight chapters of this text we get an overview of (1) The Allegory of Love, (2) The Personal Heresy, (3) Arthurian Torso, (4) English Literature in the Sixteenth Century excluding Drama, (5) Studies in Words, (6) An Experiment in Criticism, (7) The Discarded Image, and (8) Selected Literary Essays.

Some of these volumes are difficult to find (especially Arthurian Torso and English Literature), while others have been reprinted by reputable presses to ensure continued availability. The common links among them are they tend to be connected to Lewis’s proper field of study rather than his more popular apologetic work.

It might seem to some readers of Lewis enough to read Chronicles, Mere Christianity, and Screwtape, enjoy the readability and devotional quality, and move on. However, to understand the framework that Lewis is working from (which he partially unpacks in essays like “De Descriptione Temporum,” which is his inaugural address for his Chair at Cambridge), scholars and students need to read beyond the A-side of Lewis’s works into his more neglected works.

Neal and Root have done a great service to the field of Lewis studies by providing an accessible introduction to some of Lewis’s lesser-read works. This is the sort of auxiliary text that could accompany a college course on C. S. Lewis that is housed in the English Department of a university. For those engaged in the academic study of C. S. Lewis, this is an exceedingly helpful way to get an overview of and prioritize the study of volumes that are important, but off the beaten path.

The target audience of The Neglected C. S. Lewis is not the high school aficionado or the casually interested. However, this survey of some of the neglected works of Lewis is an essential part of a Lewis scholar’s library and a key resource for those looking for new areas of study in the increasingly crowded field of Inklings studies.

NOTE: I received a gratis copy of this volume with no expectation of a positive review.

Dorothy and Jack: The Transforming Friendship of Dorothy L. Sayers and C. S. Lewis - A Review

C. S. Lewis is a figure that fascinates contemporary, English speaking Christians. His writing is connected to the deep well of Medieval thought, especially the pervasively Christian tide of that thought. For the modern Christian, C. S. Lewis is a gateway to orthodox Christian thought from a different era that has been adapted to wrestle with the problems of modernity.

As a result, of the writing of C. S. Lewis biographies there is no end, and much reading of them can weary the body. Most of the biographies of Lewis in recent decades have simply rehashed old themes, picked over the same published data, and repackaged the same accounts in a slightly different structure.

And yet, periodically there are new approaches that expose different facets of Lewis scholarship. Harry Poe’s Becoming C. S. Lewis, for example, has an innovative approach and includes new data. Or Alan Jacob’s book, The Year of Our Lord 1943: Christian Humanism in an Age of Crisis, that looks at Lewis alongside other Christian thinkers like Dorothy L. Sayers, T. S. Eliot, and W. H. Auden. These varied approaches are vital to the field of study and are useful in inviting new scholars and writers into a rich community of thought.

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Gina Dalfonzo has produced a delightful volume that looks at the relationship between Dorothy L. Sayers and C. S. Lewis. This account is, of course, biographical. However, by focusing on the relationship between these two great Christian thinkers and by including Sayers alongside Lewis, this moves from garden-variety biography to a valuable contribution to the literature of the field.

Sayers is the lesser celebrated of the two. Lamentably, she has not received the attention her work warrants. There are, I believe several reasons for this. First, Sayers was much more private than Lewis. While she had deep friendships and sometimes includes her own experience in her writing, it is hard to truly know Sayers by simply reading her published works. Her letters and the biographies written by friends help, but compared to Lewis, she is a stranger even to fans of her work. (The fact that she hid the existence of her son from close friends shows how private a person she was.) Second, Sayers was much more reluctant to become a spokesperson for Christianity than Lewis, so there is less of her work that deals with the topics that many Christians find so important. Third, though Barbara Reynolds has done the world a great service in editing Sayers’ letters and writing about her, Walter Hooper had more opportunity and was more effective in editing and promoting Lewis posthumously.

Though Sayers was less known, she is no less significant. Her detective fiction is par excellence. Her translations of Dante are still in print. And her essays and plays still move readers. For many young scholars who have found the field of study surrounding the Inklings to be overcrowded, Sayers is an “Inkling-adjacent” thinker with room still available for original topics.

Dalfonzo’s book, Dorothy and Jack, is an example of solid, new synthesis. Her bibliography shows little original research (i.e., there is little evidence of her diving into archives in various locations), but she has put the available information together in a helpful way. Dalfonzo has read through and correlated some of the correspondence of both figures, compared the timelines of their lives to create a roughly synchronous chronological retelling, and put together ideas from secondary sources for both Lewis and Sayers. The result is thoroughly enjoyable to read for the average reader, but original and enriching for those interested in academic studies.

Summary

This short volume is divided into seven chapters. The first chapter deals with the early life of the two friends, in some respects very similar and in others very different, and extends roughly until their first introduction to one another. Chapter Two moves into the early stages of their friendship, beginning with a fan letter written by Sayers to Lewis and through the first few years of their growing mutual admiration, which consisted mostly of letter writing. The third chapter shows how the friendship blossomed between Lewis and Sayers as they were able to give each other critical feedback alongside pointed praise. Their friendship was one of equals who valued thoughtful criticism as much as loud, undeserved congratulations. Chapter Four explores Lewis’ attitude toward women in general and the relationship both Lewis and Sayers had with Charles Williams. For those interested in the attitude of the Inklings toward women and Sayers’ own opinions on society and women, this is an engaging chapter.

The fifth chapter focuses on the worldview of both Sayers and Lewis. Both were deeply influenced by the thought of the middle ages. Lewis famously described himself as a dinosaur, which title he also ascribed to Sayers affectionately. The title was well received. To understand their unusual friendship, the reader must understand how different the two were from the rest of the world and how similar they were in their engagement in medieval thinking. Chapter Six covers Sayers’ relationship with Joy Gresham, Lewis’ late-in-life spouse. We see similarities in the personalities of Gresham and of Sayers, as well as possible sympathy between Sayers and Lewis in that both were married to divorcees. The final chapter wraps the book up, drawing together several streams and highlights the friendship as one of mutual admiration and equal respect.

Analysis and Conclusion

The book is well-researched and clearly written. Dalfonzo takes contested positions on a few topics like the Lewis-Anscomb debate, the Lewis-Moore relationship, and a few others. Readers may disagree with Dalfonzo, but there is a reason those topics are contested—the evidence is muddled at best. Perhaps more controversially, the underlying theme in Dorothy and Jack is the possibility of meaningful friendship between men and women, outside of marriage. Dalfonzo shares a vision with Aimee Byrd, as she developed it in Why Can’t We Be Friends? But Lewis and Sayers are such unique individuals that it isn’t clear they are a good test case for Byrd’s ideas. Whether one finally agrees with Dalfonzo on that issue does not diminish the value of this book.

Many readers may not notice, but for academics the use of the Sayers’ and Lewis’ first names may be a bit jarring. After all, as Dalfonzo notes, it was twelve years into their fifteen-year friendship before the two referred to each other by their Christian names. However, the quality of the research makes up for the feeling of informality (for those who care about such things) and the informality serves to illustrate the friendship between the two. This reads like a popular book, but the research will warrant consideration by a more academic audience. Sometimes one size does not perfectly fit all.

This is an excellent volume. Those interested in Lewis or Sayers should immediately buy it or, at least, put it on their wish list not to be long forgotten. It deserves a place alongside books like Humphrey Carpenters’ The Inklings, the Zaleski’s The Fellowship, and Colin Duriez’ Tolkien and C. S. Lewis: The Gift of Friendship. This is a solid work of secondary literature that makes a meaningful contribution to the study of both Sayers and Lewis, while being accessible and interesting to the casual reader.

NOTE: I was granted access to uncorrected proofs of this volume.

Human Goodness and the Perfectibility of Society

Humans were created good in the very beginning. They were good in every way. After God created the whole universe, including Adam and Eve, he looked at it all and observed it was all “very good.” (Gen 1:31) But the first humans made a choice to defy God’s command and they ate of the forbidden fruit. As a result, everything in creation was touched by a curse to remind humanity that the way the world is is not the way the world was meant to be. (Gen 3:16–19)

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It didn’t take very long for sin to show itself in human society in powerful ways. One generation after Adam’s sin, one son murdered another in a fit of jealousy over God’s affections. (Gen 4:8) A few generations later Lamech uses his freedom and power to unjustly kill a man as disproportionate revenge for wounding him (Gen 4:23-24). Not too many generations, Scripture records, “The Lord saw that the wickedness of man was great in the earth, and that every intention of the thoughts of his heart was only evil continually.” (Gen 6:5)

Despite the wickedness of humanity and the corruption of creation, God preserved eight of his people on a boat constructed because of Noah’s faithful obedience to God’s command. After the flood, God released those eight people and the animals back onto the earth and made a covenant with both the humans and the rest of creation not to destroy it again. (Gen 9:8–17) But despite God’s grace, the old story repeated itself over and over again. Humans fell into patterns of sin that included oppression, violence, and greed. These are patterns that seem to repeat themselves down to the present day.

And yet, despite their continual disobedience, humans remain good in God’s sight. So good, in fact, that he came himself in the form of a human with the name of Jesus.

Jesus came to restore the goodness of humans and to bring salvation from sin, but the process of redemption is ongoing. Though all creation witnessed moral perfection in the person of Jesus Christ, all of creation continues to live under the effects of Adam’s sin. Even those who have been redeemed by Christ’s blood on the cross still regularly fall short of the moral goodness that God demands.

One of the central purposes of government is restrain evil. As the apostle Peter notes, we are to understand that “governors [were] sent by [God] to punish those who do evil and to praise those who do good.” (I Pet 2:14)

The government is necessary as a means to prevent the powerful from oppressing the weak. Among the things necessary for a healthy society are the rule of law and enforcement of property rights. These are proper roles for the government.

The worst documented humanitarian abuses in the world have occurred when government has moved from the role of attempting to restrain evil to creating a perfect society. According to C. S. Lewis, this impulse is common among many forms of modern government, as he noted in his essay, “Is Progress Possible?,”

“The modern State exists not to protect our rights but to do us good or make us good–anyway, to do something to us or to make us something. . . . We are less [government leaders’] subjects than their wards, pupils, or domestic animals. There is nothing left of which we can say to them, ‘Mind your own business.’ Our whole lives are their business.”

The pursuit of social improvement requires that government become engaged in social interaction. In order to move from obedience to the law to moral improvement, there must be an allegiance to the power of the government.

In modern forms of government that are seeking to perfect (or at least enhance) the moral fabric of society, that allegiance is often sought in the name of superior information, which often goes under the name of science. If government is to improve society and improvement is measured by science, then good must be scientifically measurable and the theories of advancement offered by science must be obeyed absolutely.

As C. S. Lewis writes, “I dread government in the name of science. That is how tyrannies come in. In every age the men who want us under their thumb, if they have any sense, will put forward the particular pretension which the hopes and fears of that age render most potent.”

If science is seen as the means to determine policy, then a party need merely control the direction and flavor of scientific research and publishing to change the direction of society and reinforce control. This is what is happening now in China. It is what happened through the German propaganda during WWII.

Human sin is exactly the reason why therapeutic structures of society are bound to be unhelpful, because it gives the state or community to continue to shape and reshape human behavior according to whatever the contemporary consensus is and by whatever means are socially approved. It seems like tenderness, but, as Walker Percy once wrote, “tenderness leads to the gas chamber.” Sin corrupts everything and ensures that even movements begin with good intentions don’t usually end there.

Medieval Wisdom for Modern Christians - A Review

Theological retrieval has become increasingly popular among evangelicals as young evangelicals, especially, react to some of the narrowly contextual interpretations of many Twentieth Century evangelical and fundamentalist theologians. There has been a great deal of orthodox preaching that has tried to present orthodox theology as if it is the simplest, most obvious reading of texts that any casual interpreter should be able to arrive at. Sometimes, in a rush to conserve the apparent authority of Scripture, well meaning interpreters arrive at heterodox conclusions and claim they are authentically biblical, despite disagreeing with the careful, Bible-saturated arguments of centuries of prior Christians. Theological retrieval is the process of reading historical theology, parsing it against the witness of Scripture, and using the copious resources of our theological ancestors to enrich our theologies.

There has been a great deal more work done on retrieval of the Early Church resources than of Medieval resources. Part of this is due to the acceptance by most Protestant traditions of the product of the seven ecumenical councils, the last of which wat the second council of Nicaea, which concluded in 787 AD. Another reason for the relative concern for retrieving Medieval theology is that the Roman Catholic tradition claims to have direct ties to that tradition.

The Middle Ages was also the time during which the worst abuses of papal authority and incrementally increasing confusions of Christian doctrines were incorporated. The Protestant Reformation was, after all, an attempt to reform some of the deviations from biblical orthodoxy that had evolved during the Middle Ages. Some of Martin Luther’s most severe critiques are of elements of Christian theology invented in the Middle Ages and the Roman Catholic church, which claims continuity with Medieval versions of Christianity, killed many Protestants trying to enforce both political control and adherence to some of those doctrines invented in the Medieval era. There is a reasonable basis for a reduction in concern for that theological age.

Christ Armstrong’s book, Medieval Wisdom for Modern Christians: Finding Authentic Faith in a Forgotten Age with C. S. Lewis, is a project for Protestant theological retrieval from the Middle Ages. The book is written for a predominately Evangelical, but possible broadly Protestant audience. It uses Lewis’ interest as a medievalist to show that retrieving doctrines from the Middle Ages is consistent with mere Christianity and can be fruitful.

 Lewis was deeply influenced by the contemplative and devotional aspects of Medieval theology. His book, The Discarded Image, is basically a call for a retrieval of a medieval perspective on the cosmos—not for the adoption of their astronomy, but for their memory of the enchantment of the created order.

Armstrong offers ten chapters in this volume. He begins with an explanation of his approach to the topic, which is focused on maintaining Christian orthodoxy while retrieving the treasures from oft-ignored saints. In Chapter Two he makes the argument, which is easily defensible, that Lewis had a distinctly Medieval worldview. Helpfully, Armstrong also acknowledges that while Lewis was a man of the Middle Ages, there were times his argumentation and epistemology were distinctly modern. He was a man of his times as well as a man deeply saturated with the time before. In Chapter Three Armstrong caps off the introductory topics by arguing that tradition can be a source for truth. His argument here does not conflict with Sola Scriptura, a fundamental of the Reformation, but shows that we can glean wisdom as we discerningly parse through historical and theological writings of the church.

Chapters Four through Ten focus on retrieval of medieval ideas within various categories. Chapter Four deals with recapturing the delight in theological thought of the Middle Ages. The fifth chapter considers the ethical reasoning of Medieval Christians. Chapter Six builds on the previous chapter discussing the culture shaping influence of Christianity in the Middle Ages, which led to the invention of institutions like hospitals. In the seventh chapter Armstrong pushes back against the over-spiritualizing tendencies of much of modern, orthodox Christianity, which tends to value the spirit to the neglect of the body. Armstrong’s argument is that the Medieval, despite the influence of asceticism, had, on balance, a much better doctrine of the body and the created order. In Chapter Eight the pietistic traditions of the Middle Ages are celebrated, with some of the better elements highlighted for consideration. The ninth chapter argues that the medieval focus on the Incarnation was far superior to that of many modern Evangelicals and should be retrieved. Finally, Chapter Ten ties the pieces together and calls for continued work to discover the helpful elements of Medieval theology that can enrich and inform the Christian faith.

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The premise of Armstrong’s book is outstanding. There were a great many gospel-saturated Christians in the centuries of the Middle Ages whose writings can enrich our understanding of Christian doctrine, our worship, and our devotional practices. Armstrong is absolutely correct that Lewis was tied into the ethos of the Middle Ages, which means that by reading Lewis deeply (especially beyond the most popular works) one gets an introduction into a Medieval worldview and that by studying the Middle Ages, one can understand Lewis’ work better. This book is worth buying and reading on those accounts.

Perhaps because a great many books highly critical of errant ideas in medieval theology have already been written, there is very little critique offered in this book. In fact, there are some recommendations for adoption of ideas that are, at best, not biblically supported and are, at worst, unhelpful for gospel Christians. Lewis himself adopted a belief in Purgatory toward the end of his life, claiming that it would function as a hot bath to cleanse the Christian from sin before entering heaven. That, indeed, is a reasonable conception, but it undermines the sufficiency of the work of Christ on the cross. Christ paid the penalty to cleanse us from sin, so that no additional, extra-biblical purgation is needed for the sacrifice of the God of the universe to do its work in us. Additionally, Armstrong seems to affirm the idea of transubstantiation of the elements of the Eucharist. The confusion caused by this doctrine has been analyzed greatly, so that I can add little to it, except to note that it that it is a case of (a) excessive literalism, with (b) a strongly contested tradition even within the early Church and  it (c) leads to potential confusion of the creation/creature distinction, which (d)  leads to “veneration” of the elements and (e) an unbiblical belief of the special spiritual status of those ordained by the Church. Another example includes Armstrong’s apparent preference toward the traditional Roman Catholic representation of Christ on the cross as the center of worship. He claims this reinforced the doctrine of the Incarnation. However, this also undermines the biblical emphasis on Christ’s completed work, which was recognized through the triumphant resurrection. Apart from potentially violating the Second Commandment, as many Protestants would argue, the crucifix contributes to an unhelpful focus on the misery of the cross rather than the triumph of the King of Kings and Lord of Lords. We must understand the first to get to the second, but we worship a Christ ascended, not a Christ trapped in the tortures of the cross. There are reasons, after all, that the Protestant Reformers rejected some of the traditions of the Papal tradition that were not supported by or ran directly counter to Scripture.

Despite some disagreements with where Armstrong takes Medieval retrieval, this is an excellent book. As a volume in Lewis studies, Medieval Wisdom for Modern Christians is an example of the best sort: it looks where Lewis was pointing, rather than seeing Lewis as the final stopping point for theological consideration. As a volume encouraging theological retrieval, it shows that Armstrong has carefully studied and lived within the traditions he is attempting to retrieve. He is right to show that there is much good that has too often been ignored and contemporary Protestants would do well to revisit some of the theology from a forgotten age.

Spirits in Bondage - A Review

C. S. Lewis is known in most contemporary circles for his apologetics and for his children’s books. If you were to do a “person on the street” interview about Lewis in a local church, you would probably find people mentioning his Chronicles of Narnia, Mere Christianity, and perhaps the collection of essays titled, God in the Dock. There might be some who know about The Screwtape Letters or, if they have a philosophical bent, The Abolition of Man, or, perhaps, The Great Divorce.

Not only would you find people ignorant of any of the works that focused on Lewis’ primary vocation as a scholar of Medieval and Renaissance literature (one of which is still a text in use), but you would be hard pressed to find someone who has not fallen deep into the well of Lewis studies that would describe Lewis as a poet.

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And yet, the first volume Lewis ever published was of poetry, and he published many along the way. In an informal exchange, senior Lewis expert James Como (who contributed an essay to the volume, The Christian Mind of C. S. Lewis) informed me that Lewis may have executed his mythopoeic power more effectively in his poetry than in his narrative writing. Based on some of his later poetry, particularly poems like “As the Ruin Falls,” there is an argument to be made there.

Lexham Press has recently released Lewis’ first published volume, which is a cycle of poetry. Spirits in Bondage: A Cycle of Lyrics was begun during his teenage years (as we know from his correspondence with Arthur Greeves) and completed while Lewis was in the trenches during the Great War and during his recovery after he was wounded. It bears the marks of a broadly read teenager. Engaging, imitative, emotionally powerful at times, and at other times not quite enrapturing.

This small book, originally published under the pseudonym Clive Hamilton, earned a lukewarm reception from reviewers, which contributed to Lewis becoming more invested in other forms of literature. Part of the reason for its meager applause when released was that Lewis largely borrows from existing forms of poetry and, at the beginning of the Twentieth Century, English poetry was trending toward more modernistic form and structure. Lewis’ tendency to imitate the art of others, borrowing their themes and structures to present ideas in a fresh way, did not catch the fancy of readers of poetry as it would in his highly imitative science fiction trilogy or with the Chestertonian moralism of much of his apologetic prose. In many ways we should be thankful, because Lewis the novelist and apologist has been more effective than Lewis the poet may have been.

The new edition of Spirits in Bondage is a well-constructed book. The slender hardback volume is artistically illuminated, with brilliantly colored endsheets. It is well-typeset to invite the reader into a meditative digestion of Lewis’ poetry. This is a lovely volume and a pleasure to experience.

The reprint book has been published with a new introduction by Karen Swallow Prior. Her brief essay helps welcome unfamiliar readers into this book. She reminds people that this “is a work of literary, intellectual, and spiritual immaturity––and promise.” And it is all of those things. The reader of Mere Christianity would be surprised to pick up this book and find a tendency toward supernaturalism, but no real sense of the grandeur of the Divine. Prior’s introduction does what all introductions should do: it puts the work into its context so the uninitiated reader need not puzzle over themes and concepts that seem foreign. It also sets expectations, as Prior notes, “While sometimes weak in both concept and execution, the poems overall exhibit considerable metrical variety and a range of perspectives impressive for such a young writer. They are worthy reading for the poetry lover and the Lewis aficionado alike.”

Readers should understand that Spirits in Bondage is being reprinted because of the man who wrote it, not because it is the best poetry of its age. But for those struggling to understand the complexity of Lewis (there is a great deal more to even his children’s stories than some will acknowledge), these poems are exceedingly helpful.

When Lewis wrote Spirits in Bondage he was not a theist. He was past the most strident phase of his atheism, which was fueled by his tutor. He had found joy in the transcendent beauty of Nordic mythology. He had dabbled in the occult in his late teens, and that supernaturalism can be seen beneath some of Spirits in Bondage. This is, to be clear, not a series of love poems to the God of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob. But it is not directly antagonistic to the faith, however. We encounter a Lewis who has not been found by Christ, but is searching for something he knows is out there.

This book will have the most appeal for those studying the life and work of C. S. Lewis. But those that enjoy poetry will find it a generally pleasant experience, too. Those who both enjoy poetry and are deeply interested in Lewis will find this a thoroughly intriguing book, because there are echoes of later Lewisian thoughts and motifs even in this very early work.

NOTE: I received a gratis copy of this volume from the publisher with no expectation of a positive review.

The Reality of Our Dystopian Fantasy

Recently I have been reading dystopian fiction as I think through the nature of totalitarianism in real life. I’m struck by both the similarities and differences between the various books I have read. Although the authors have drastically different worldviews, much of what they held to be a means of control is similar and many of those means of control are already in place.

More significantly, many of the means of control that are in place in our society are voluntarily implemented. We choose to be absorbed and distracted by our televisions and smart phones; we (societally) elect to be distracted by sex in various forms. In light of these somewhat dated dystopian visions, reality is even more frightening.

Entertainment

In George Orwell’s 1984, for example, entertainment is used both as a means of control and of monitoring. The telescreen is always on, pornography is produced for the proles to consume to keep them happy, and other cheap entertainments are made available that are poor quality and degrading. Striking in Orwell’s fantasy is the nature of the violence in the movies, which was used to help the audience dehumanize other people.

In contrast, Aldous Huxley’s Brave New World doesn’t have the intrusive telescreen (likely because that technology was in its infancy and had little commercial availability), but the feelies are a common source of entertainment, where the motion pictures are trite in their plot, pornographic in nature, and have technological innovations that allow the audience to get some of the physical sensations of the actors on the screen.

In both cases, the purpose of the entertainment is largely to pacify the masses. In both cases the entertainment is also a major means of shaping culture. This is reflected in the warlike nature of Orwell’s Oceania and the sensualism of Huxley’s world.

Set in an obviously fictional dystopia, the symbolism of both authors is heavy handed, but it is not too far from the techniques used in totalitarian regimes. In We Have Been Harmonised, which reads like a real-life 1984, Kai Strittmatter describes the cheesy entertainment produced for the masses to support the Communist Party. This includes forming music groups to produce party-supporting rap music: “The reform group is two years old now / and it has already done quite a lot / Reform! Reform! Reform! Reform! Reform!”

There is also overlap with the way the Nazi’s rose to power. In Milton Mayer’s book, They Thought They Were Free, German citizens describe how they were perpetually entertained through meetings, organizations, etc., so they were always imbibing the National Socialist message and not thinking about big things.

Consider, then, the message of The Shallows and Amusing Ourselves to Death that what we consume for entertainment and how we consume it deeply shapes our experience in life, particularly how we think. The difference is that we are clamoring for more of the entertainment that is destroying us. With regard to entertainment, we are living in a voluntary dystopia.

Sex as Control

Dystopian fiction also tends to see sex as a means of control.

This is nowhere more obvious than in Brave New World, where casual sex is not only allowed, but socially expected. However, prevention of the natural result of sex is an absolute social necessity as the girls are taught from childhood to execute the Malthusian Drill to prevent pregnancy. Control is exerted by sex and lots of it to keep people quiet.

In contrast, the suppression of sex is significant in Orwell’s 1984. Party members are not supposed to enjoy it, so much of Winston and Julia’s rebelling consists of sneaking off to knock knees. Orwell is less dire in his depiction of anti-natalism, but the joyless sex that Winston suffers through from his willing, but resistant wife is appalling. Children are presented as a duty and not a delight.

In C. S. Lewis’s dystopian fairy tale, That Hideous Strength, when Filostrato describes “reproducing ourselves without copulation.” Eliminating sex is a part of control for the N.I.C.E. because, “There will never be peace and order and discipline so long as there is sex. When man has thrown it away, then he will become finally governable.”

According to these various authors, either the total elimination of sex or its abundance is a means to control. These amount to the same thing, because in each of these situations, sex has become essentially meaningless.

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Sex in Brave New World has no social purpose other than to pacify and to conceive through it is failure. Sex in Oceania is supposed to be pleasure free, solely for begetting future members of the Party. There is no social purpose of it. For the N.I.C.E., sex must be eliminated, because it will have no purpose. Whether there is a great deal of sex or very little sex, the physical act is always divorced from its natural purpose.

And this is exactly where we find ourselves. Contemporary “hook-up” culture is essentially similar to Huxley’s vision, though freely chosen. We need look no further than the rabid concern among left-leaning politicians that sex be divorced from its gendered directionality, and that if a couple who can procreate do copulate, that the government provide the means to prevent conception or destroy its result. The self-chosen sterility of many young professionals for the sakes of their careers, etc., is a sign of this acceptance. As a society, we certainly live much more on the Huxlean side of the spectrum than the Orwellian side, but I think we may not be too far from seeing Lewis’s dystopian vision come to fruition.

Self-Chosen Dystopia

The amazing think about each of these dystopias is how accurate they are with respect to the worst aspects of our culture. The tragedy is we often realize the unhappiness that results but fail to connect it to the cause. We are, in general, less happy than earlier societies even though we are much wealthier. Part of the reason for this is that the very things that were supposed to make life better have helped to sap its meaning.

At this point in my life, I’m not prepared to give up my smart phone. There are simply too many advantages to having the sum of human knowledge in my pocket wherever I go. What needs to change, however, is how often I pull that silicon and plastic rectangle out of my pocket to look at useless things. There is little doubt that some of my dissatisfaction with my life as it is because I’m constantly borrowing other people’s strife and longing for other people’s good.

At the same time, there are likely means of control that I can rightly eliminate from my life with no real loss and a great deal of gain. The challenge is to find the room above the antique dealer––hopefully one that isn’t bugged by Big Brother––and figure out what adds value, what distracts, and what can be eliminated. I think we’d all be happier if we spent some time doing that, though our technological controllers were much prefer we did not.

An Invitation to Glory

This post is an excerpt from The Christian Mind of C. S. Lewis: Essays in Honor of Michael Travers (Wipf and Stock, 2019). It was written by Dr. Michael Travers. It was presented to the C. S. Lewis Society of New York in 2013 on the 50th anniversary of Lewis’s Death and again at Southeastern Baptist Theological Seminary on January 30th, 2014. Today, March 2nd, is the anniversary of Michael’s passing into the glory that he deeply longed for.


In his apologetics and fiction, C. S. Lewis invites his readers to hope for heaven and God. His great contribution is his reminder to twentieth-century western culture, which has lost its mooring, of what it means to be humans who were made for God and to long for him all our lives. C. S. Lewis reminds readers that this longing for God, this hope of heaven, is the proper state for all of us in a fallen world. He offers to readers a vision of the Christian mind.

Our culture needs to remember what it means to be human: we are created in the image of God and for the purpose of praising God. At the very outset of his Confessions, St. Augustine gives voice to the essential human need––and desire––to praise God:

Great art Thou, O Lord, and greatly to be praised; great is Thy power, and of Thy wisdom there is no number. And man desires to praise Thee. He is but a tiny part of all that Thou hast created. He bears about him his mortality, the evidence of his sinfulness, and the evidence that Thou dost resist the proud: yet this tiny part of all that Thou hast created desires to praise Thee.

Thou dost so excite him that to praise Thee is his joy. For Thou has made us for Thyself and our hearts are restless until they rest in Thee.[1]

Because we were made for God, we cannot be satisfied apart from Him. Nothing in this world can satisfy the ultimate desire of the human soul to be satisfied in God. Human culture, particularly that inspired by Christianity, incarnates this desire for God in manifold ways, and, what is more, Scripture attests to it as well. The desire for God is a key element of the Christian mind.

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The idea that we all desire God and hope for heaven is expressed in both the Old and New Testaments. In Ecclesiastes, the wisdom writer states that God has put “eternity into man’s heart” (Ecc 3:11), and evidences the implications of our desire for God in that nothing in this life ultimately satisfies the soul. The writer speaks of good things––such as work, food, and relationships––that we enjoy in this life, but he teaches that ultimate wisdom is to seek God and rest in him. Everything else is “vanity,” or futility. The Psalmist writes that the ancient Hebrews longed for rest in the Promised Land. But, because of their unbelief and sin, they had to walk the wilderness pathways for forty years before they were allowed to enter that rest, and then it was only the next generation that was allowed to do so (Ps 95:1–11). In the New Testament, the writer of Hebrews applies the temporal rest of the ancient Hebrews in the Promised Land figuratively to the spiritual rest Christians have in Christ and then to the eternal rest we ultimately will enjoy in the new heavens and the new earth (Heb 3:7–4:11).

In this life, we are not yet at rest, and we cannot be at rest until our faith becomes sight in heaven. We hope for future glory. In the New Testament, the apostles often write of a hope that looks forward to eternity. The apostle Peter admonishes us to be “ready always to give an answer to every man that asketh you a reason for the hope that is in you” (1 Pet 3:15). Peter speaks this instruction to Christians, admonishing them to give a witness to non-Christians about heaven and eternity with God. For Peter, as for the other New Testament writers, this hope is not wishful thinking; rather, it is settled and certain hope, for it is predicated on the character of God as evidenced by the Word of God––“Christ in you, the hope of glory,” as Paul has it in Col 1:27. Paul speaks elsewhere of our hope in Christ, for Christ has paid the debt of our sins and granted us eternal life (Cf. 2 Cor 1:10; 1 Tim 4:10). In the earthly life of Christ our longing for God is made concrete in the transfiguration, when Peter, James, and John see Christ revealed in all his glory. The transfiguration follows immediately after Jesus tells his disciples that he will come again in great glory, thereby prompting longing for that glorious kingdom; it is then that he is transfigured before the three men, and they are given a glimpse of the future and the one on whom their hope is founded. In Romans 8, Paul writes that the Christian’s whole life is oriented toward this hope when we will be glorified in the presence of our Savior, Jesus Christ.

Michael Travers

Michael Travers

The Bible often expresses this hope in narrative form. Almost two-thirds of the Bible is narrative. From Genesis to Exodus, through the history books and prophets in the Old Testament, to the Gospels, the Book of the Acts of the Apostles, and even the book of Revelation in the New Testament, the story of redemption is just that––a narrative. The writer of Hebrews symbolizes this life as a pilgrimage. He writes that we “desire a better country, that is a heavenly [one]” (Heb 11:16), and “for here we have no continuing city, but we seek one to come” (Heb 13:14). A pilgrimage is not just a wandering journey; rather it is a teleological journey with a destination. For Christians, that destination is heaven with Jesus Christ, our ultimate beatitude. It is no accident, then, that the Bible incarnates a grand metanarrative that encompasses the whole of the created order and our place as humans in that story.

Giving voice to the Christian narrative of hope is what Lewis did in his writings at a time when others had lost sight of that hope. He presented a vision of the Christian mind. Austin Farrer writes of the voice Lewis gives to Christianity:

It was this feeling intellect, this intellectual imagination that made the strength of his religious writings. . . . His real power was not proof [as in apologetics]; it was depiction. There lived in his writings a Christian universe that could be both thought and felt, in which he was at home and in which he made his reader at home.[2]

There is the note: Lewis invites his readers to come along home with him––to God and heaven. He knew that we longed for something beyond this world, and he invited us to join him in the search for our eternal home.[3] Lewis’s method for inviting others to put on the Christian mind, through his prose, poetry, and narrative, was to put the metanarrative of the Bible on display.

C. S. Lewis reminds readers in the twentieth and twenty-first centuries of a truth that pre-modern western people knew as part of their culture and we have largely forgotten today: we were created to worship God. Lewis encourages his readers to worship God again––that is, to put on the Christian mind. He invites them to accept that “weight of glory.” Lewis embodies the heart of Christianity in this invitation, for the metanarrative of the Bible tells the same story: creation, fall, redemption, and recreation. Lewis incarnates this metanarrative in his apologetics, his poetry, and his fiction. It is by developing a Christian mind that Lewis fulfills his role as worshipper.

For Lewis, the original creation is the normative mode of existence for human beings, in fellowship with each other and God. In this created condition, there was no need for longing to escape and go to heaven, no need for hope, for all things were as they should be. Lewis invites his readers in all of these books to participate in the glory of things as they were meant to be. In the fall into sin, however, humans were plunged into a pathological condition, producing a sense of exile because we were cut off from God and therefore long to be reunited with him. It is this undesirable state of sin and exile that forms the foundation of Lewis’s apologetics and fiction. Our innate longing for a remedy finds expression in his novels, in the form of a pilgrimage, or quest––a journey that inherently incarnates longing and hope in its form and structure. This longing is for renewal of all that has been tainted by sin; it is a longing for a new life.

Lewis’s fiction provides descriptions of this coming renewal, which begins with a sense of release from sin’s effects. He expresses the sense of beginning a new and glorified life in heaven this way in The Last Battle:

“There was a real railway accident,” said Aslan softly. “Your father and mother and all of you are––as you used to call it in the Shadowlands––dead. The term is over: the holidays have begun. The dream is ended: this is the morning.”   

And as He spoke He no longer looked to them like a lion; but the things that began to happen after that were so great and beautiful that I cannot write them. And for us this is the end of all the stories, and we can most truly say that they all lived happily ever after. But for them it was only the beginning of the real story. All their life in this world and all their adventures in Narnia had only been the cover and the title page; now at last they were beginning Chapter One of the Great Story, which no one on earth has read, which goes on forever, in which every chapter is better than the one before.[4]

All of Lewis’s writings encourage his readers to long for God and to hope for heaven; this is a central characteristic of the Christian mind. And it is fitting that this is so, for the longer we live in communion with Christ, the more we long to see him face to face. Lewis knew that longing well and it shaped everything he wrote. This longing for the transcendent is what makes the Christian mind so beautiful.

[1] Augustine, Confessions, 3. Emphasis original.

[2] Farrer, “In His Image,” 384–85. Farrer was Chaplain of Trinity College, Oxford, from 1935 to 1960, and a good friend of Lewis.

[3] Cf. Lewis, Mere Christianity, 143.

[4] Lewis, The Last Battle, 210–11.