50 years gone



C. S. Lewis’ grave in Holy Trinity churchyard, Headington Quarry, Oxford

Photo credit: jschroe

I’m going to alter my long-established custom of always posting about a days’ commemorations in the evening of that day, which means most of you read it the next day. Tomorrow is the fiftieth anniversary of the death of C. S. Lewis (also of a couple obscure characters named John F. Kennedy and Aldous Huxley).

I was, of course, around when it happened, in junior high if you must know. What did I think when I heard Lewis was dead? I’m not sure, because I wasn’t aware of his death date until years later, long after I’d become a Lewis enthusiast. I do remember the day though, because of the Kennedy thing.

But I’ve written about that before. I’d like to just recall what Lewis has meant in my life. It occurred to me today that Lewis was himself my Wardrobe, the portal through which I entered a larger world.

I was educated, like most of my friends, in Lutheran colleges which are now under the umbrella of The Very Large Lutheran Church Body Which Shall Remain Nameless. But, unlike a large percentage of my friends from those days, I neither apostatized or became a liberal. It was Lewis who made that possible (with the help at a later stage of Francis Schaeffer). The Lutheran schools I’m speaking of had then, and I assume still have, one single purpose in their religious education curricula, and that is to destroy all Christian faith in their students. But Lewis (though no biblical inerrantist) showed me that embracing orthodox Christianity doesn’t mean giving up reason. I clung to reason, and I clung to the faith of my childhood.

You yourself may approve or disapprove of that course on my part, but as for me, it’s one of the things I’m thankful for as Thanksgiving approaches.

Cheesy Danish

Someone on Facebook posted a link to an article (not sure if it was this one; there are several out there) about this newly unveiled portrait of the Danish royal family, produced – though this seems incredible – at the family’s request, apparently.

If somebody did a portrait of your family like this, would you pay them?

I made a crack on my friend’s comments about how this is actually considered cheerful in Denmark, home of Hamlet and Kierkegaard.

But in fact I think it’s more ominous.

As a certified amateur artistic wiseacre, my immediate interpretation of these spooky figures, backed up by classical ruins, was that the purpose would seem to be to portray the royal family as doomed, a crumbling remnant of an outmoded social order.

And I bet the royals understand that, but know that pointing it out would just open them up to accusations of trying to suppress artistic expression.

But even more, it struck me that the composition reminded me viscerally of another famous royal portrait. This one: Continue reading Cheesy Danish

50th Anniversary of Doctor Who

This Saturday is Doctor Who’s 50th anniversary. A special episode, “The Day of the Doctor,” will broadcast around the world at 7:50 p.m. GST (11:50 a.m. PST/ 2:50 p.m. EST).

I don’t know who introduced me to the show. I just remember watching it through the 80s and maybe before that. PBS played whole series on Saturday nights year round, so if season 16 has six multi-part stories, then PBS played them in 6 weeks. They were playing Tom Baker, the 4th Doctor and favorite of The Countess of Wessex, when I started watching. At some point, they broadcasted all of Jon Pertwee’s episodes, picked up again with Baker, and carried on with Peter Davidson, Colin Baker, and Sylvester McCoy until it was cancelled (or put on hiatus) in 1989. I haven’t picked up the new series yet, though Christopher Eccleston’s first episode, “Rose,” was great fun.

I’m sure you’re dying to know that my least favorite of these actors was Sylvester McCoy (who plays Radagast in The Hobbit), not because of his ability, but because of the script. Of all the shows I have seen, his version of our universe’s problem solver seemed to have read the script more than any others. The stories in the late 80s didn’t show The Doctor figuring out situations and boldly foiling the bad guys. They ran him and his companions through a variety of hoops until the curtain rose on Act 4 to depict The Doctor walking in with the solution in hand. How did he know the solution? He read the script, as far as I could tell—and crazy scripts they were.

For the series anniversary, I wanted to compile some trivia which will amuse and befuddle you. No need to thank me. The pleasure is all mine. Enjoy!

Continue reading 50th Anniversary of Doctor Who

Much noted, long remembered



One of three known photographs of Abraham Lincoln at Gettysburg, taken by David Bachrach.

Four score and seven years ago our fathers brought forth on this continent a new nation, conceived in liberty, and dedicated to the proposition that all men are created equal.

Now we are engaged in a great civil war, testing whether that nation, or any nation so conceived and so dedicated, can long endure. We are met on a great battlefield of that war. We have come to dedicate a portion of that field, as a final resting place for those who here gave their lives that that nation might live. It is altogether fitting and proper that we should do this.

But, in a larger sense, we can not dedicate, we can not consecrate, we can not hallow this ground. The brave men, living and dead, who struggled here, have consecrated it, far above our poor power to add or detract. The world will little note, nor long remember what we say here, but it can never forget what they did here. It is for us the living, rather, to be dedicated here to the unfinished work which they who fought here have thus far so nobly advanced. It is rather for us to be here dedicated to the great task remaining before us—that from these honored dead we take increased devotion to that cause for which they gave the last full measure of devotion—that we here highly resolve that these dead shall not have died in vain—that this nation, under God, shall have a new birth of freedom—and that government of the people, by the people, for the people, shall not perish from the earth.

It was on this day 150 years ago that Abraham Lincoln delivered his Gettysburg Address at the dedication of the battlefield cemetery. The words have become part of our national canon, and not without reason. Lincoln had the rare qualities of having both a first class mind and a masterful prose style. This is particularly interesting when we remember that he had about the least formal education of any American president. If he had not existed, it would have been impossible to invent him.

Do We Need Another C.S. Lewis?

People have often suggested a popular Christian fantasy author is the next C.S. Lewis. I don’t think that’s an appropriate question. Few people strikes us as the same as another person only better, so why should we look for a living author to replace a dead one? That would make the dead one mostly obsolete, wouldn’t it?
Steve Harrell doesn’t think so. He says we need a new Lewis. “When we try to insert Lewis’ cultural observations into our culture today,” he writes, “we become like Indiana Jones—still fighting the Nazis through the 1980s. The Modernist war between reason and theology is over…. We live in a postmodern, post-secular age that doesn’t respond well to the intellectual arm-twisting and large-scale historical criticism that Lewis excelled at.”
Joel Miller argues Harrell is missing the point. “A vibrant intellectual life includes thoughts that span millennia. They’re not so foreign as some insist, and their differences might just keep us from going off the rails.”
Rowan Williams, a former Archbishop of Canterbury, notes Lewis’s blessing to us is “in what you might call pastoral theology: as an interpreter of people’s moral and spiritual crises; as somebody who is a brilliant diagnostician of self-deception; and somebody who, in his own book on bereavement after his wife’s death, really pushes the envelope – giving permission, I suppose, to people to articulate their anger and resentment about a God who apparently takes your loved ones away from you.”
In related a post, Jeremy Lott notes the angst many have had over Susan’s absence from The Last Battle. Many readers think Lewis condemns her life choices by appearing to keep her out of Narnia when everything comes falling down, but Lott quotes from Lewis’ letters to show that the author simply believed Susan’s story was longer and more adult than the one he wanted to tell. “Why not try it yourself?” Lewis asked a reader, to which Lott replies, “Who has tried to tell Susan’s story?” He hopes someone will attempt to pick up the life of Susan Pevensie and finish at least part of her story.

Storm Front, by John Sandford

Another Virgil Flowers novel from John Sandford. The Flowers books are generally lighter than the Prey novels starring Virgil’s boss Lucas Davenport, but Storm Front actually veers off into farce territory. And it was OK. I enjoyed it generally, though it irritated me in places.

The story starts in Israel, where Rev. Elijah Jones of Gustavus Adolphus College, St. Peter, Minnesota (a real place) is involved in an archaeological dig. One morning he gets up early, breaks into a storage locker, steals a newly discovered artifact, steals a car, and sets off for home. Soon the Israelis are after him, and that’s where Virgil Flowers, Minnesota Bureau of Criminal Apprehension officer in southern Minnesota, comes into it. He’s already happily occupied with investigating an improbably attractive redneck mother of five, whom he suspects of petty crime activity, when he’s ordered to pick up an Israeli Antiquities agent at the airport. Soon he can hardly turn around without bumping into Israeli agents, Hezbollah agents, Turkish agents, cable TV show stars, and ordinary reporters, all intent on getting credit for recovering a stone that—if genuine—could discredit the Old Testament and rock the faith of millions of Christians and Jews.

It’s mostly played for laughs, and nobody gets killed—which is a major change for a John Sandford book. People stumble over each other, pass each other ignorantly in the dark, and pass the stone back and forth—sometimes unwittingly—in something like a Keystone Kops scenario.

I suppose this is Sandford’s way of dealing with controversial material. Aside from the religious issues, there are Israelis and jihadis here. Sandford tries (and frankly it bugs me) to be evenhanded. The Hezbollah characters never get a chance to do their worst, and a ruthless Israeli agent is the real bad guy of the story. A couple of the Muslim characters, with terrorist associations, are seen to be essentially harmless and in love with western decadence. Which strikes me as wishful thinking, if it’s meant to be taken as typical.

But the book was amusing. Minor spoiler: Don’t worry about the threat to the Bible at the heart of the story. Mild violence, some sex, rough language. But, as mentioned, the violence level is pretty low, which may make this book more appealing to some than most of Sandford’s work.

Book Lists: Forgotten and Dystopian

For your reading pleasure (or possible displeasure):

10 Great Forgotten Books, such as The Castle of Otranto and the “unnecessarily tedious” Ravenshoe. (via Relief Journal)

15 Works of Dystopian Fiction Everyone Should Read, such as Invitation to a Beheading and The Stars, My Destination.

In other news, a sequel, “It’s A Wonderful Life: The Rest of the Story,” is in the works. The story shows Karolyn Grimes, who played Zuzu from the original movie, is an angel who visits George Bailey’s irritable cuss of a grandson, named George Bailey, to show him how much better the world would be without him. Grimes says she has seen many scripts for Wonderful Life sequels, and this one actually brings the juice. (via S. Greydanus)

Castle-of-Otranto

Coming attractions

Floyd at Threedonia posted this trailer for an upcoming movie from Randall Wallace, to be released next Easter. What troubles me is that it actually looks kind of good. You all know the general rule about religious-themed movies: If the theology’s good, the movie’s probably bad, and if the theology’s bad, the movie’s probably bad anyway. But this almost looks like it could work.

Which would be a miracle. And that would prove God’s existence, right?