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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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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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Who is Aslan?" asked Susan. "Aslan?" said Mr Beaver. "Why, don’t you know? He’s the King. He’s the Lord of the whole wood, but not often here, you understand. Never in my time or my father’s time. But the word has reached us that he has come back. He is in Narnia at this moment. He’ll settle the White Queen all right. It is he, not you, that will save Mr Tumnus." "She won’t turn him into stone too?" said Edmund. "Lord love you, Son of Adam, what a simple thing to say!" answered Mr Beaver with a great laugh. "Turn him into stone? If she can stand on her two feet and look him in the face it’ll be the most she can do and more than I expect of her. No, no. He’ll put all to rights as it says in an old rhyme in these parts: Wrong will be right, when Aslan comes in sight, At the sound of his roar, sorrows will be no more, When he bares his teeth, winter meets its death, And when he shakes his mane, we shall have spring again. You’ll understand when you see him.
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A truly humble person probably won't be what most call “humble.” “He will not be a sort of greasy, smarmy person, who is always telling you that, of course, he is nobody. Probably all you will think about him is that he seemed a cheerful, intelligent chap who took a real interest in what you said to him.” The very first step—a big one—in acquiring humility is to realize that you are proud. Thinking that you are not conceited is to be “very conceited indeed.” COMMENTARY Pride is so extreme a sin that it is the reason we pit ourselves against God! It is the reason we dare think we can be gods! Augustine thought it the root of all evil. Aquinas believed it to be the most deadly and devastating of all vices, part of every sin. This is why Lewis said that as long as we suffer from pride we cannot know
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Eustace made a step towards him with both hands held out, but then drew back with a somewhat startled expression. "Look here! I say," he stammered. "It's all very well. But aren't you? — I mean didn't you — ?" "Oh, don't be such an ass," said Caspian. "But," said Eustace, looking at Aslan. "Hasn't he — er — died?" "Yes," said the Lion in a very quiet voice, almost (Jill thought) as if he were laughing. "He has died. Most people have, you know. Even I have. There are very few who haven't.
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This must be a simply enormous wardrobe!' thought Lucy, going still further in and pushing the soft folds of the coats aside to make room for her. Then she noticed that there was something crunching under her feet. 'I wonder is that more moth-balls?' she thought, stooping down to feel it with her hands. But instead of feeling the hard, smooth wood of the floor of the wardrobe, she felt something soft and powdery and extremely cold. 'This is very queer,' she said, and went on a step or two further. Next moment she found that what was rubbing against her face and hands was no longer soft fur but something hard and rough and even prickly. 'Why, it is just like branches of trees!' exlaimed Lucy. And then she saw that there was a light ahead of her; not a few inches away where the back of the wardrobe ought to have been, but a long way off. Something cold and soft was falling on her. A moment later she found that she was standing in the middle of a wood at night-time with snow under her feet and snowflakes falling through the air. Lucy felt a little frightened, but she felt very inquisitive and excited as well. She looked back over her shoulder and there, between the dark tree-trunks, she could still see the open doorway of the wardrobe and even catch a glimpse of the empty room from which she had set out. (She had, of course, left the door open, for she knew that it is a very silly thing to shut oneself into a wardrobe.) It seemed to be still daylight there. 'I can always get back if anything goes wrong,' thought Lucy. She began to walk forward, crunch-crunch over the snow and through the wood towards the other light. In about ten minutes she reached it and found it was a lamp-post. As she stood looking at it, wondering why there was a lamp-post in the middle of a wood and wondering what to do next, she heard a pitter patter of feet coming towards her. And soon after that a very strange person stepped out from among the trees into the light of the lamp-post.
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the Portuguese adage holds true: God writes straight on crooked lines.
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The gospel by the sea is a gospel of forgiveness. Jesus shows us that forgiveness leads to new life, that it is tied to love, and that it is profoundly freeing. Forgiveness is a life-giving force that reconciles and unites. It is a gift both to the one who forgives (because it allows freedom from resentment) and to the one who needs forgiveness (because it allows freedom from guilt). As he stands by the Sea of Galilee, Jesus embodies this gift of forgiveness.
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The language of martyrdom and persecution is often the language of war. It forces a rupture between “us” and “them” and perpetuates and legitimizes an aggressive posture toward “the other” and “our enemies,” so that we can “defend the faith.” Without this posture and the polarized view of the world upon which it relies, we might—without compromising our religious or political convictions—be able to reach common ground and engage in productive government, and we might focus on real examples of actual suffering and actual oppression.
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avoid dying a moment before we have to. Given that we expend so much effort staying alive, it might seem strange to think that anyone
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You stranger, long before your glance can light Upon these words, time will have washed away The moment when I first took pen to write, With all my road before me—yet to-day, Here, if at all, we meet...
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Look what I’ve found! Come and have a bit of it – it’s grand – you’ll love it – I can’t keep it to myself, and anyhow, I want to know what you think of it.”3
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Everything now felt as if it had been fated or had happened before.
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Few persons are prevented from thinking themselves right by the reflection that, if they be right, the rest of the world is wrong.
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We believe that the death of Christ is just that point in history at which something absolutely unimaginable from outside shows through into our own world. And if we cannot picture even the atoms of which our own world is built, of course we are not going to be able to picture this. Indeed, if we found that we could fully understand it, that very fact would show it was not what it professes to be-the inconceivable, the uncreated, the thing from beyond nature, striking down into nature like lightning.
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(Writing about the Green Knight in long poem Sir Gawain and The Green Knight) It seems safe to say, first, that the peom is not an allegory, in any simple sense of the term. Bercilak, as a supernatural creature tempting Gawain to sin, has elememts of a devil, as a genial host who leads Sir Gawain to self-knowledge, he is a friendly guide; and as a green man who dies in winter and is miraculously reborn, he has elements of a fertility deity. But he cannot be flatly equated with any of these figures without falisfyjng the complexity.
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