Of the making of books about the making of books (of which there is no end), there is no end. That’s fine with me. A book by George Marsden, about C. S. Lewis, dedicated to Roger Lundin—sounds perfect. I was glad to learn about this “biography” during my recent re-read of Mere Christianity. I’d always known, of course, that Lewis’s book was a collection of talks he’d given on BBC radio during the war, but I didn’t know much more about the context. Marsden explains how those radio talks came to be, what else Lewis was working on at the same time, how the talks were published as books and then the one book, and the reception of the talks and the book over time. None of this is necessary to simply read and enjoy Mere Christianity, but it’s all fascinating and helpful context.
I don’t think it would be an exaggeration to say that Lewis has touched more people in the world than almost any other 20th-century figure. Whether through Narnia (books or movies), the Space Trilogy, The Screwtape Letters, his nonfiction writing, his autobiographical Surprised by Joy, the biographical play and film Shadowlands, or his friendship with Tolkien, the influence of Lewis is incredible. So I was amazed to read that just before Lewis died, he confided in a friend that he assumed that within five years, everything he’d done in life would be completely forgotten. Even contemporaries who cherished and respected Lewis felt that his star would quickly wane—which did happen for a brief period after his death, when publishers lost interest in his work. Being a Wheaton College alumnus, I was proud to read of the role Wheaton has played in keeping Lewis’s legacy fresh and alive. It was interesting to read about the process of Lewis, and Mere Christianity, becoming so thoroughly beloved within evangelical Christianity—which I certainly experienced, growing up and still now—but I was also fascinated to read about how influential Mere Christianity has been among other Christian traditions. I wouldn’t have guessed that it was so beloved by Roman Catholics, and even among some Orthodox believers. It’s hard to imagine a writer today having that breadth of influence—which is sad, really.
Marsden does a good job covering the harsher critical responses to Mere Christianity. Even though I disagree with many of the criticisms, it’s helpful to rethink Lewis’s arguments in light of stern criticism and questioning. But what Marsden brings out that is most helpful for me is a reminder that what Lewis was attempting in Mere Christianity was not the perfect answer to every question of logic, faith, and reason. Rather, as in so many of his books, Lewis is opening to us the possibility of belief, the idea that it is perfectly reasonable to see the universe as a story that is complicated but not nonsensical, a story that isn’t cyclical or pointless but that is moving toward a purposeful end. Marsden mentions (p. 173) the scene in The Magician’s Nephew, when Uncle Andrew hears Aslan’s beautiful singing. Uncle Andrew believes he sees the world scientifically, as only a truly rational person does. Because he knows that lions don’t sing, the only thing he can do when he hears Aslan’s song is to convince himself that it’s actually dreadful roaring, because that, after all, is the only thing lions do. In Mere Christianity, Lewis isn’t proving absolutely everything about the world; he’s simply saying to us, “What if . . . the world isn’t quite exactly like you assume it has to be? Would you like to be a person who believes in the story God is working out in the universe?” And our first response needn’t be a perfectly all-knowing one; it is sufficient to naively say, “Yes, I would like to be that kind of person,” and see what the next step is from there.