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C. S. LewisA modern alternative to SparkNotes and CliffsNotes, SuperSummary offers high-quality Study Guides with detailed chapter summaries and analysis of major themes, characters, and more.
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Lewis now turns to the first “theological” virtue: charity. Charity is often taken to mean giving to the poor, but it is more than this; in fact, it encompasses something Lewis has already discussed—namely, forgiveness and, more broadly, love for one’s neighbor. As he previously noted, this does not require feelings of affection, though Lewis does warn against charity undertaken in an attempt to put another individual in our debt.
Although Christian charity is not sentimental by nature, and there are cases where feelings of affection can actually impede our ability to treat someone charitably (e.g. spoiling a child to their moral detriment). Generally speaking, however, treating someone charitably will often result in increased affection for them. In this sense, Lewis likens both love and hatred to “compound interest” (132), suggesting that whichever we practice tends to multiply upon itself. Lewis notes that these same precepts also apply to the Christian injunction to love God: “Do not sit trying to manufacture feelings. Ask yourself, ‘If I were sure that I loved god, what would I do?’ When you have found the answer, go and do it” (132).
Lewis suggests that God’s love for us is more stable than our love for Him. It is difficult to be constantly devout, but this is not God’s prime concern, which is to cure us of our sins through His own unwavering love.
The second theological virtue Lewis discusses is hope—that is, looking forward to the eternal world. This does not mean neglecting the present world; on the contrary, those whose actions are motivated by thoughts of Heaven often leave the greatest positive mark on their society. By contrast, focusing on earth alone is a dead end.
Lewis suggests that it’s hard for most of us to conceptualize Heaven except as a place to be reunited with loved ones. However, when we try to look past our various worldly preoccupations and desires, we often find a vague yearning for something more. As evidence of this, Lewis notes that people often feel something in the first moments of falling in love or when they first take up a subject that excites them, but that the reality of these experiences never quite lives up to expectations.
This experience tends to elicit one of three responses. The “Fool” continues to believe that there truly is something out there that could satisfy their desires, and to continue moving from one place, hobby, and love affair to the next in pursuit of it. The “Disillusioned ‘Sensible Man’” who has decided that fulfillment is a youthful pipe dream. This is less destructive approach than the first, but it still ultimately “stifle[s]” our true spiritual nature (136).
Lewis therefore proposes a Christian way of framing the problem, suggesting that humans are not born with desires (e.g. hunger) unless satisfaction for those desires (e.g. food) exists. If we feel a desire that cannot be satisfied in this world, then it follows that it will be satisfied in the next one, and that earthly pleasures are simply a kind of preview of a much deeper pleasure to come. On that note, Lewis pushes back against those who brand the idea of Heaven as ridiculous based on scriptural language of harps, crowns, etc. Lewis argues that such depictions are intended to be read symbolically: as gestures towards what cannot be truly conveyed in this world.
Lewis states that Christians use the word “faith” in two ways, and that he intends to begin with the first: belief in Christian doctrines.
Lewis acknowledges that the idea of faith as a virtue may seem confusing, since there’s nothing virtuous about accepting or not accepting a line of argument. He notes, however, that our responses to such propositions aren’t entirely rational; rather, they also involve emotion. Lewis therefore distinguishes between those who “lack faith” simply in the sense of failing to find Christian arguments persuasive, and those who lose faith for irrational reasons—a desire to conform, a disappointment in life, an urge to commit some sinful act, etc.—after previously accepting Christianity as rational. Faith serves as an anchor, dissuading people from going wherever their mood takes them, which is why practices like daily prayer, religious reading, and churchgoing are important.
Before turning to faith in its second form, Lewis suggests making a concerted effort to practice Christian virtues for some time in order to better understand how difficult it truly is, and how flawed we truly are. He also once again emphasizes that Christianity is not a bargain where God gives us something for good behavior.
Lewis warns that there are some things about Christianity that only Christians can understand; consequently, readers may find it difficult to understand the meaning of faith in “the higher sense” until they have been practicing Christianity for some time (145).
Lewis reiterates that God is not as concerned with our specific actions as with whether we are the kind of beings that he intended to create. However, since trying to be completely good is futile, a moment comes when we must recognize our failure and turn to God for help. Lewis cautions against monitoring ourselves to assess whether we have reached this moment; it often occurs as a gradual process, and worrying about it is only likely to hinder it.
According to Lewis, the idea of trusting in God is often misunderstood: the state he is describing is about having faith that God will make humanity more like Himself. Someone who has reached this state will continue to try to do God’s will, but “in a new way, a less worried way” (147). Here, Lewis addresses the long-standing debate about salvation through good works versus salvation through faith, observing that the two things are inseparable; faith necessarily involves trying to fulfill God’s will through our actions.
Christianity may seem at first glance to be all about moral duties and rules, but Lewis stresses that this is not ultimately its center: it leads to another realm in which everyone “is filled full with what we should call goodness as a mirror is filled with light. But they do not call it goodness. They do not call it anything. They are not thinking of it” (150).
Part of what makes Lewis an effective spokesperson for Christianity is the fact that he converted as an adult after years of atheism. As he observes in Chapter 12, there is a significant difference between learning to recite religious precepts as a child and actually working through their meaning for oneself. Lewis is therefore well positioned to know and to address the kinds of questions nonbelievers may have; in fact, he often admits to having wondered about them himself. A good example of this technique comes in Chapter 11, when Lewis clarifies that by “faith” he means something other than reasoned acceptance:
I used to ask how on earth [faith] can be a virtue—what is there moral or immoral about believing or not believing a set of statements? Obviously, I used to say, a sane man accepts or rejects any statement, not because he wants to or does not want to, but because the evidence seems to hi good or bad […] Well, I think I still take that view (138).
The effect of passages like this one is not simply to address the reader’s particular concerns, but also to suggest that the view they likely have of Christianity—e.g. as a religion that considers intellectual disbelief sinful—is overly simplistic. Christianity, Lewis ultimately argues, is fully compatible with being a rational, skeptical adult.
Of course, Lewis’s goal as he explains it at the outset is to persuade the readers of the truth of “mere” Christianity—that is, the core tenets of the religion rather than beliefs associated with any particular sect. In light of this, it’s worth considering his discussion of the long-standing debate concerning salvation through faith versus salvation through good works. This is not a trivial issue in Christian history; in fact, it was at the core of the split between the Catholic Church and the various Protestant churches. Broadly speaking, the Catholic Church has tended to emphasize the importance of good works, or observing the letter of God’s laws. An extreme and controversial example, which Lewis alludes to in Chapter 12, was the sale of “indulgences”—in effect, showing “charity” to the Church by giving it money in exchange for the forgiveness of sins. Lewis argues, as reformers like Martin Luther did, that this is to completely misunderstand the nature of charity, which gives without expecting anything in return. On the flip side, Protestant denominations tend to emphasize the importance of faith, which, as Lewis notes, could in its extreme form lead one to believe that all kinds of sinful behavior are permissible in a believer.
Lewis’s response to this debate is to suggest that it’s essentially misguided, because the faith and good works are mutually reinforcing: “A serious moral effort is the only thing that will bring you to the point where you throw up the sponge. Faith in Christ is the only thing to save you from despair at that point: and out of that Faith in Him good actions must inevitably come” (148). With that said, it’s worth noting that Lewis himself was a member of the Church of England, and that Anglicanism often positions itself as an intermediary form of Christianity between Protestantism and Catholicism (though the Church of England itself did originate as part of the Protestant Reformation). In other words, Lewis’s neutrality on this issue is arguably in fact a reflection of his own particular beliefs.
By C. S. Lewis