Reverend Brian McGreevy continues his series, Not as Unwise but as Wise: Reflections from C.S. Lewis’s The Abolition of Man and That Hideous Strength on Living Christianly in a Post-Christian World. This is available as a podcast on iTunes.
Episode 22: Not as Unwise but as Wise: Reflections from C.S. Lewis’s The Abolition of Man and That Hideous Strength
SUMMARY OF CHAPTER 11, “BATTLE BEGUN”adapted from Rudy Rentzel
Jane, Dimble, and Denniston try looking for the place Jane saw in her dream about Merlin. As they go tramping about the countryside, they start to feel like they experience Ancient Britain, which is both exciting and terrifying. Jane began to think about the childhood religion she had left long ago, and wonders whether there might be a deeper, truer religion that might enable her to better face this situation. They think they see a man, but are not sure if he is simply a tramp in modern clothes.
Meanwhile, Fairy Hardcastle tries to convince Wither to let her torture Mark so he will disclose Jane’s location. Wither resists, saying the worst thing in this situation would be to use torture, reasoning that even if they obtained Jane’s location and brought her to Belbury, her shock at discovering Mark had been tortured might be enough to dislodge her gift, which would render her useless to them. Professor Frost concurs. Sending Fairy away, Frost then reminds Wither that “the authorities” warn that if Jane falls into the wrong hands, she could pose a grave danger to their plans. Since Jane’s mind is now opaque to the authorities, they believe she has fallen into enemy hands. Therefore, Wither and Frost agree that they must somehow induce Mark to bring his wife to Belbury, and the best means of achieving this may be to invite Mark into a deeper unity with their deepest inner circle, which they demonstrate in a voracious embrace.In this same conversation, Frost reveals that though Filostrato really believes they are keeping the Head alive, he is mistaken. He also indicates that the N.I.C.E. are interested in Mark and Jane for eugenics purposes.
Meanwhile, Mark is in a prison cell, faced with the probalility of being hanged for murder. He suspects he is in the custody of the N.I.C.E. and begins to understand he was a fool for every having trusted them. He also begins to clearly see his folly at his lust for always seeking inclusion in the most inner circle he could find, no matter the cost. As he looks back upon his life with “disgust at its dreariness,” his thoughts turned to Jane. Appreciating anew the depth of her good qualities, he imagines that his death might be good for Jane so she would be free to marry someone worthy of her. When Professor Frost enters his cell, Mark knows he is held by the N.I.C.E. and is terrified by the Evil emanatiNg from Frost.
KEY PASSAGES FROM CHAPTER 11“The fear which Dimble had felt from the first began to trickle into the minds of the others as they proceeded — like water coming into a ship from a slow leak. They realised that they had not really believed in Merlin till now. They had thought they were believing the Director in the kitchen; but they had been mistaken. The shock was still to take. Out here with only the changing red light ahead and the black all round, one really began to accept as fact this tryst with something dead and yet not dead, something dug up, exhumed, from that dark pit of history which lies between the ancient Romans and the beginning of the English. “The Dark Ages,” thought Dimble; how lightly one had read and written those words. But now they were going to step right into that Darkness. It was an age, not a man, that awaited them in the horrible little dingle. And suddenly all that Britain which had been so long familiar to him as a scholar rose up like a solid thing. He could see it all. Little dwindling cities where the light of Rome still rested — little Christian sites, Camalodunum, Kaerleon, Glastonbury — a church, a villa or two, a huddle ofhouses, an earthwork. And then, beginning scarcely a stone’s throw beyond the gates, the wet, tangled endless woods, silted with the accumulated decay of autumns that had been dropping leaves since before Britain was an island; wolves slinking, beavers building, wide shallow marshes, dim horns and drummings, eyes in the thickets, eyes of men not only Pre-Roman but Pre-British, ancient creatures, unhappy and dispossessed, who became the elves and ogres and wood-wooses of the later tradition. But worse than the forests, the clearings. Little strongholds with unheard-of kings. Little colleges and covines of Druids. Houses whose mortar had been ritually mixed with babies’ blood. They had tried to do that to Merlin. And now all that age, horribly dislocated, wrenched out of its place in the time series and forced to come back and go through all its motions yet again with doubled monstrosity, was flowing towards them and would, in a few minutes, receive them into itself.—unseen Realities
“Hitherto Jane had scarcely attempted to think of what might lie before them. As they went on, the real meaning of that scene in the kitchen began to dawn on her. He had sent the men to bid goodbye to their wives. He had blessed them all. It was likely, then, that this — this stumbling walk on a wet night across a ploughed field — meant death. Death — the thing one had always heard of (like love), the thing the poets had written about. So this was how it was going to be. But that was not the main point. Jane was trying to see death in the new light of all she had heard since she left Edgestow. She had long ceased to feel any resentment at the Director’s tendency, as it were, to dispose of her — to give her, at one time or in one sense, to Mark, and in another to Maleldil — never, in any sense, to keep her for himself…Up till now she had not thought of Maleldil either. She did not doubt that the eldils existed; nor did she doubt the existence of this stronger and more obscure being whom they obeyed… whom the Director obeyed, and through him the whole household, even MacPhee. If it had ever occurred to her to question whether all these things might be the reality behind what she had been taught at school as “religion,” she had put the thought aside. The distance between these alarming and operative realities and the memory, say, of fat Mrs. Dimble saying her prayers, was too wide. The things belonged, for her, to different worlds. On the one hand, terror of dreams, rapture of obedience, the tingling light and sound from under the Director’s door, and the great struggle against an imminent danger; on the other, the smell of pews, horrible lithographs ofthe Saviour (apparently seven feet high, with the face of a consumptive girl), the embarrassment of confirmation classes, the nervous affability of clergymen. But this time, if it was really to be death, the thought would not be put aside. Because, really, it now appeared that almost anything might be true. The world had already turned out to be so very unlike what she had expected. The old ring-fence had been smashed completely. One might be in for anything. Maleldil might be, quite simply and crudely, God. There might be a life after death: a Heaven: a Hell. The thought glowed in her mind for a second like a spark that has fallen on shavings, and then a second later, like those shavings, her whole mind was in a blazer with just enough left outside the blaze to utter some kind of protest. “But… but this is unbearable. I ought to have been told.” It did not, at that moment, occur to her even to doubt that if such things existed they would be totally and unchangeably adverse to her.—Fear of death as a clarifier, conflation of Real Christianity with its trappings
“Did you really see a man, Arthur?” “Well, I thought I did, Sir. But I’m not certain now. I think my eyes are getting tired. He’s sitting very still. If it is a man, he’s asleep.” “Or dead,” said Jane with a sudden shudder. “Well,” said Dimble, “We must go down.” And in less than a minute all three walked down into the dingle and past the fire. And there was the tent, and a few miserable attempts at bedding inside it, and a tin plate, and some matches on the ground, and the dottle of a pipe, but they could see no man.—following God’s will doesn’t equal immediate success
“And suddenly, as Wither stood with his hand on the door-handle, courtly, patient, and smiling, the whole expression faded out of his face. The pale lips, open wide enough to show his gums, the white curly head, the pouchy eyes, ceased to make up any single expression. Miss Hardcastle had the feeling that a mere mask of skin and flesh was staring at her. A moment later and she was gone. “I wonder,” said Wither as he came back to his chair, “whether we are attaching too much importance to this Studdock woman.” “We are acting on an order dated the 1st of October,” said Frost”.—demonic powers“That was the first point,” said Frost, interrupting him. “The second is that her mind became opaque to our authorities almost immediately afterwards. In the present state of our science we know only one cause for such occulations. They occur when the mind in question has placed itself, by some voluntary choice of its own, however vague, under the control of some hostile organism. The occultation, therefore, while cutting off our access to the dreams, also tells us that she has, in some mode or other, come under enemy influence. This is in itself a grave danger. But it also means that to find her would probably mean discovering the enemy’s headquarters. Miss Hardcastle is probably right in maintaining that torture would soon induce Studdock to give up his wife’s address. But as you pointed out, a round up at their headquarters, an arrest, and the discovery of her husband here in the condition in which the torture would leave him, would produce psychological conditions in the woman which might destroy her faculty. We should thus frustrate one of the purposes for which we want to get her. That is the first objection. The second is that an attack on enemy headquarters is very risky. They almost certainly have protection of a kind we are not prepared to cope with. And finally the man may not know his wife’s address.” –spiritual power is real and formidable to the Enemy
“Oh,” said Wither, “there is nothing I should more deeply deplore. Scientific examination (I cannot allow the word Torture in this context) in cases where the patient doesn’t know the answer is always a fatal mistake. As men of humanity we should neither of us… and then, if you go on, the patient naturally does not recover… and if you stop, even an experienced operator is haunted by the fear that perhaps he did know after all. It is in every way unsatisfactory.”—pragmatism v. morality
“Of course,” said Wither, “nothing is so much to be desired as the greatest possible unity…Any fresh individual brought into that unity would be a source of the most intense satisfaction to-ah-all concerned. I desire the closest possible bond. I would welcome an interpenetration of personalities so close, so irrevocable, that it almost transcends individuality. You need not doubt that I would open my arms to receive to absorb — to assimilate this young man.” They were now sitting so close together that their faces almost touched, as if they had been lovers about to kiss… Wither’s mouth was open, the lower lip hanging down, his eyes wet, his whole body hunched and collapsed in his chair as if the strength had gone out of it. A stranger would have thought he had been drinking. Then his shoulders twitched and gradually he began to laugh. And Frost did not laugh, but his smile grew moment by moment brighter and also colder, and he stretched out his hand and patted his colleague on the shoulder. Suddenly in that silent room there was a crash. Who’s Who had fallen off the table, swept onto the floor as, with sudden swift convulsive movement, the two old men lurched forward towards each other and sat swaying to and fro, locked in an embrace from which each seemed to be struggling to escape. And as they swayed and scrabbled with hand and nail, there arose, shrill and faint at first, but then louder and louder, a cackling noise that seemed in the end rather an animal than a senile parody of laughter.—demonic power and consumption“The moment he was arrested he had despaired of his life. He was going to be hanged. He had never till now been at close quarters with death. Now, glancing down at his hand (because his hands were cold and he had been automatically rubbing them), it came to him as a totally new idea that this very hand, with its five nails and the yellow tobacco-stain on the inside of the second finger, would one day be the hand of a corpse, and later the hand of a skeleton. He did not exactly feel horror, though on the physical level he was aware of a choking sensation; what made his brain reel was the preposterousness of the idea. This was something incredible, yet at the same time quite certain.—reality of Death
“The question of immortality came before him. He was not in the least interested. What had an afterlife to do with it? Happiness in some other and disembodied world (he never thought of unhappiness) was totally irrelevant to a man who was going to be killed. The killing was the important thing. On any view, this body — this limp, shaking, desperately vivid thing, so intimately his own — was going to be returned into a dead body. If there were such things as souls, this cared nothing about them. The choking, smothering sensation gave the body’s view of the matter with an intensity which excluded all else.—consequences of miseducation/wrong worldview“Ought not his very first interview with the Deputy Director to have warned him, as clearly as if the truth were shouted through a megaphone or printed on a poster in letters six feet high, that here was the world of plot within plot, crossing and double-crossing, of lies and graft and stabbing in the back, of murder and a contemptuous guffaw for the fool who lost the game? Feverstone’s guffaw, that day he had called him an “incurable romantic,” came back to his mind. Feverstone… that was how he had come to believe in Wither: on Feverstone’s recommendation. Apparently his folly went further back. How on earth had he come to trust Feverstone — a man with a mouth like a shark, with his flash manners, a man who never looked you in the face? Jane, or Dimble, would have seen through him at once. He had “crook” written all over him.—danger of unbridled ambition and poor judgment
“He had a picture of himself, the odious little outsider who wanted to be an insider, the infantile gull, drinking in the husky and unimportant confidences, as if he were being admitted to the government of the planet. Was there no beginning to his folly? Had he been utter fool all through from the very day of his birth? Even as a schoolboy, when he had ruined his work and half broken his heart trying to get into the society called Grip, and lost his only real friend in doing so? Even as a child, fighting Myrtle because she would go and talk secrets with Pamela next door?—danger of the lure of the Inner Ring“He himself did not understand why all this, which was now so clear, had never previously crossed his mind. He was unaware that such thoughts had often knocked for entrance, but had always been excluded for the very good reason that if they were once entertained it involved ripping up the whole web of his life, cancelling almost every decision his will had ever made, and really beginning over again as though he were an infant. The indistinct mass of problems which would have to be faced if he admitted such thoughts, the innumerable “somethings” about which “something” would have to be done, had deterred him from ever raising these questions. What had now taken the blinders off was the fact that nothing could be done. They were going to hang him. His story was at an end.—failure to see, danger of the miseducated Will
“In one sense everything about Professor Frost was as it had always been — the pointed beard, the extreme whiteness of forehead, the regularity of features, and the bright Arctic smile. But what Mark could not understand was how he had ever managed to overlook something about the man so obvious that any child would have shrunk away from him and any dog would have backed into the corner with raised hackles and bared teeth. Death itself did not seem more frightening than the fact that only six hours ago he would in some measure have trusted this man, welcomed his confidence, and even made believe that his society was not disagreeable.—innate horror of Evil
THEMES THAT APPEAR IN CHAPTER 11
–unseen realities
–fear of death as a clarifier, conflation of Real Christianity with its trappings
–following God’s will doesn’t equal immediate success
—torture as legitimate tool: ends/means confusion
–dangerous Faith
–demonic powers
–spiritual power is real and formidable to the Enemy
–pragmatism v. morality
–instructions from demons, conversion to Evil
–manipulation through desires, danger of the lure of the Inner Ring
–true aims of Evil, lack of reverence for humans (eugenics)
–demonic power and consumption
–reality of Death, despair, fear of Death as clarifier
–consequences of miseducation/wrong worldview
–wisdom of hindsight , regret
–danger of unbridled ambition and poor judgment
–innate horror of Evil
Practices of Hope and of Wisdom
Finally, brothers, whatever is true, whatever is honorable, whatever is just, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is commendable, if there is any excellence, if there is anything worthy of praise, think about these things. What you have learned and received and heard and seen in me—practice these things, and the God of peace will be with you.—Phil. 4:8-9
1.Remember that your days on earth are numbered and live each day purposefully with Kingdom priorities. O Lord, make me know my end and what is the measure of my days; let me know how fleeting I am! (Ps. 39:4) So teach us to number our days, that we may gain a heart of wisdom (Ps. 90:12) Indeed, I count everything as loss because of the surpassing worth of knowing Christ Jesus my Lord. For his sake I have suffered the loss of all things and count them as rubbish, in order that I may gain Christ. (Phil. 3:8)
2.Understand the value of faithful obedience even when results are not immediate. These all died in faith, not having received the things promised, but having seen them and greeted them from afar, and having acknowledged that they were strangers and exiles on the earth. (Heb. 11:13) You need to persevere so that when you have done the will of God, you will receive what he has promised.(Heb. 10:36)
3.Remember that the battle against Evil is real but that Christ is victorious. For we do not wrestle against flesh and blood, but against the rulers, against the authorities, against the cosmic powers over this present darkness, against the spiritual forces of evil in the heavenly places.(Eph. 6:12) Consider him who endured such opposition from sinful men, so that you will not grow weary and lose heart. (Heb. 12:3) I have told you these things, so that in me you may have peace. In this world you will have trouble. But take heart! I have overcome the world. (Jn. 16:33)
4.Seek earnestly to cultivate a worldview grounded in biblical wisdom so as to avoid being misled or ineffective for the Gospel. Jesus began to say to them, “See that no one leads you astray. Many will come in my name, saying, ‘I am he!’ and they will lead many astray. (Mk. 13:5-6) For this very reason, make every effort to supplement your faith with virtue, and virtue with knowledge, and knowledge with self-control, and self-control with steadfastness, and steadfastness with godliness, and godliness with brotherly affection, and brotherly affection with love. For if these qualities are yours and are increasing, they keep you from being ineffective or unfruitful in the knowledge of our Lord Jesus Christ. (2 Peter 1:5-8)
A MIGHTY FORTRESS
–Martin Luther, 1529
A mighty fortress is our God,
a bulwark never failing;
our helper he, amid the flood
of mortal ills prevailing.
For still our ancient foe
does seek to work us woe;
his craft and power are great,
and armed with cruel hate,
on earth is not his equal.
Did we in our own strength confide,
our striving would be losing,
were not the right Man on our side,
the Man of God’s own choosing.
You ask who that may be?
Christ Jesus, it is he;
Lord Sabaoth his name,
from age to age the same;
and he must win the battle.
And though this world, with devils filled,
should threaten to undo us,
we will not fear, for God has willed
his truth to triumph through us.
The prince of darkness grim,
we tremble not for him;
his rage we can endure,
for lo! his doom is sure;
one little word shall fell him.
That Word above all earthly powers
no thanks to them abideth;
the Spirit and the gifts are ours
through him who with us sideth.
Let goods and kindred go,
this mortal life also;
the body they may kill:
God’s truth abideth still;
his kingdom is forever!
