C.
S. LEWIS
Excerpts
from The Problem Of Pain:
·
Nowadays, by LOVE most of us mean kindness - the desire to see others than the self
happy; not happy in this way or in that, but just happy. What would really satisfy us would be a God
who said of anything we happened to like doing, “What does it matter so long as
they are contented?" We want, in fact, not so much a Father in Heaven as a
grandfather in heaven - a senile benevolence who, as they say, "liked to
see young people enjoying themselves" and whose plan for the universe was
simply that it might be truly said at the end of each day, "a good time
was had by all". Not many people,
I admit, would formulate a theology in precisely those terms: but a conception
not very different lurks at the back of many minds. I do not claim to be an
exception: I should very much like to live in a universe which was governed on
such lines. But since it is abundantly clear that I don't, and since I have
reason to believe, nevertheless, that God is Love, I conclude that my
conception of love needs correction.
I might, indeed, have
learned, even from the poets, that Love is something more stern and splendid
than mere kindness: that even the love between the sexes is, as in Dante,
"a lord of terrible aspect". There is kindness in Love: but Love and
kindness are not coterminous, and when kindness (in the sense given above) is
separated from the other elements of Love, it involves a certain fundamental
indifference to its object, and even something like contempt of it. Kindness
consents very readily to the removal of its object - we have all met people
whose kindness to animals is constantly leading them to kill animals lest they
should suffer. Kindness, merely as such, cares not whether its object becomes
good or bad, provided only that it escapes suffering. As Scripture points out,
it is bastards who are spoiled: the legitimate sons, who are to carry on the
family tradition, are punished. It is for people whom we care nothing about
that we demand happiness on any terms: with our friends, our lovers, our
children, we are exacting and would rather see them suffer much than be happy
in contemptible and estranging modes. If God is Love, He is, by definition,
something more than mere kindness. And it appears, from all the records, that
though He has often rebuked us and condemned us, He has never regarded us with
contempt. He has paid us the intolerable compliment of loving us, in the
deepest, most tragic, most inexorable sense.
·
God has no needs.
Human love, as Plato teaches us, is the child of Poverty – of a want or lack;
it is caused by a real or supposed good in its beloved which the lover needs or
desires. But God’s love, far from being caused by goodness in the object,
causes all the goodness which the object has, loving it first into existence
and then into real, though derivative, love-ability.
·
The emotion of shame
has been valued not as an emotion but because of the insight to which it leads.
·
Humility, after the
first shock, is a cheerful virtue: it is the high-minded unbeliever, desperately
trying in the teeth of repeated disillusions to retain his “faith in human
nature”, who is really sad.
·
Of all evils, pain
only is sterilized or disinfected evil. Intellectual evil, or error in its own
right breeds evil, e.g. by strengthening sinful habit and weakening the
conscience. Pain has no tendency to proliferate.
·
There have been times
when I think we do not desire heaven; but more often I find myself wondering
whether, in our heart of hearts, we have ever desired anything else. You may have
noticed that the books you really love are bound together by a secret thread.
You know very well what is the common quality that makes you love them, though
you cannot put it into words: but most of your friends do not see it at all,
and often wonder why, liking this, you should also like that. Again, you have
stood before some landscape, which seems to embody what you have been looking
for all your life; and then turned to the friend at your side who appears to be seeing what you saw
- but at the first words a gulf yawns between you, and you realise that this
landscape means something totally different to him, that he is pursuing an
alien vision and cares nothing for the ineffable suggestion by which you are
transported. Even in your hobbies, has there not always been some secret
attraction which the others are curiously ignorant of - something, not to be
identified with, but always on the verge of breaking through, the smell of cut
wood in the workshop or the clap-clap of water against the boat's side? Are not
all lifelong friendships born at the moment when at last you meet another human
being who has some inkling (but faint and uncertain even in the best) of that
something which you were born desiring, and which, beneath the flux of other
desires and in all the momentary silences between the louder passions, night
and day, year by year, from childhood to old age, you are looking for, watching
for, listening for? You have never had it. All the things that have ever
deeply possessed your soul have been but hints of it - tantalizing glimpses,
promises never quite fulfilled, echoes that died away just as they caught your
ear. But if it should really become manifest - if there ever came an echo that
did not die away but swelled into the sound itself - you would know it. Beyond
all possibility of doubt you would say: "Here at last is the thing I was
made for". We cannot tell each other about it. It is the secret signature
of each soul, the incommunicable and unappeasable want, the thing we desired
before we met our wives or made our friends or chose our work, and which we
shall still desire on our deathbeds, when the mind no longer knows wife or friend or work. While we are, this
is. If we lose this, we lose all.
Excerpts
from: The Screwtape Letters:
[Purporting to be
correspondence from an experienced devil, “Screwtape”, to his nephew
“Wormwood”, advising the latter as to the techniques of tempting/corrupting a
human ‘patient’. It follows that in the following extracts from Screwtape’s
letters (numbered in brackets), God is sometimes referred to as “The Enemy”,
while the Arch Devil is referred to as “Our Father”.]
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