C.S. Lewis was undoubtedly one of the premier Christian apologists of the twentieth century. One would be hard-pressed to find a more lucid thinker in the recent Christian tradition, and indeed, his remarkably accessible style has endeared him to at least three generations of children through his Chronicles of Narnia. The same talent that allowed him to write so well for a younger audience informs, in a more refined sense, his allegorical works, the most widely read of which include The Screwtape Letters and The Great Divorce. The latter of these two works, as Lewis states in his introduction, is concerned with Heaven, Hell, and the fundamental incompatibility of the two.

<=== The Book ===&rt

The narrative begins in rainy, grey twilight, at a nameless bus stop in a nameless town. An immediate sense of futility suffuses the story, with Lewis able to set a melancholic tone within just a few sentences. A fractious group of individuals is queued waiting for the bus; only moments pass before arguments break out, reducing the line’s size in short order. At length the bus arrives, and though the narrator is unsure of its destination, he boards. Anything, we are given to understand, is better than the grey city.

Presently the bus arrives at its destination, but not before our narrator speaks with several of his fellow passengers. They are a curious group, hailing from all walks of life. One thing unites them, however, and it appears to be a preponderance of character defects. In fact, Lewis has created a group of individuals almost archetypal in their characterization. Each manifests a particular sin, whether it be belligerence, hubris, narcissism, or some other failing. In some, the flaw is less apparent than in others, but it is nonetheless the individual’s primary distinguishing characteristic.

Upon disembarkation, the passengers find themselves in a magnificent country, the polar opposite of the dreary town they left behind. Everything here evinces a reality that is somehow beyond the real. The light is more scintillating, the grass and trees are more solid, and even the water is substantive to the point of impenetrability. But despite the brilliance of the surroundings, it is overshadowed still further by the country’s luminous inhabitants:

“Because they were very bright I saw them while they were still very distant… Some were naked, some robed. But the naked ones did not seem less adorned, and the robes did not disguise in those who wore them the massive grandeur of muscle and the radiant smoothness of flesh… One gets glimpses, even in our country, of that which is ageless—heavy thought in the face of an infant and frolic childhood in that of a very old man. Here it was all like that.”

What follows is a series of conversations, overheard by the narrator, between the visitors to Heaven (who indeed turn out to be little more than wraiths in the brightness of that country’s sun) and its blessed inhabitants. One by one, each ghost’s pretensions are challenged, deconstructed, and found wanting. Some, unable to accept the truth, return to the bus, or simply vanish. Others, for whom the conversation seems more fruitful, are not followed through to the conclusion of their interview, but are left to continue on. The ultimate goal, of course, is for the ghosts to leave behind their self-preoccupation, to admit their failings and begin the wonderful, difficult journey to the mountains. Finally, after a time of benign eavesdropping, our narrator comes face to face with his own bright spirit, and embarks upon his own conversation.

This last portion of the narrative takes a personal turn for Lewis. To play the part of his spiritual guide he chooses an author for whom he has great respect. George MacDonald, whose authorial career, interestingly, bore many parallels to Lewis’, guides the narrator through a last few ghostly encounters before the ultimate conclusion. Then the perennial dawn of that Heaven becomes full sunrise, “the sunrise that shoots Time dead with golden arrows and puts to fight all phantasmal shapes.” As the book ends, so does the narrator’s dream, and he wakes to a cold and empty room.

<=== The Analysis ===>

Part of what makes Lewis’ writing in this work so accessible is the inherently dialectical nature of his prose. His theological teachings take the form of simple, understandable conversations, and in this sense become less arcane, so to speak, and assume a more prosaic character. Of course, this mode of teaching has been employed for millennia, most notably in the writings of the Greek philosophers, so Lewis’ use of the style as a didactic tool is unsurprising. It is remarkably effective, however.

It is also interesting to note the parallels between some of Lewis’ other works and The Great Divorce. Certain themes, specifically, from The Chronicles of Narnia will be evident to the astute reader. The Last Battle, the grand finale of the Narnia series, ends with an exuberant, joyful journey toward Aslan’s paradise. “Further up and further in!” is the cry as the triumphant Narnians race to the home prepared for them. Similarly, we find in Divorce that “every one of [the bright spirits] lives only to journey further and further into the mountains.” And again, in perhaps a prefiguring of Aslan, Lewis' greatest creation, we see “two velvet-footed lions” frolicking in the blessed lands.

In terms of the theology, one finds it very easy to become caught by the persuasiveness of Lewis’ arguments and lose sight of the rather uncompromising eschatology. Certainly the Biblical teachings concerning Heaven and Hell are unequivocal in places, and the author’s philosophy reflects this. It should be noted, however, that those who find the notion of eternal punishment based upon a mere four-score and ten years of life will find the black-and-white spirituality somewhat unpalatable, no matter how compelling the line of reasoning.

<=== The Last Word ===>

It is a sad fact that contemporary Christianity, at least in the United States, is all too often perceived as a bastion of anti-intellectual spirituality. Apparently faith covers a multitude of inconsistencies, inconsistencies which skeptical non-Christians delight in pointing out. The tens of millions of copies the execrable Left Behind series sold is simply more proof of this. The Christian tradition was not always so impoverished, though. Towering figures like Calvin, Luther, and Augustine in past centuries, and Edwards, Moody, and Bonhoeffer more recently, loom large over intellectual Christianity’s history. C.S. Lewis, converted to the faith late in life, contributed his prodigious intellect and skillful pen to the tradition, producing works for both adults and children that couched the fundamentals of Christianity in understandable, readily-accessible terms. The Great Divorce is an excellent example of his work, pithy, dense, but yet startlingly clear and comprehensible. He eschews belaboring the point, easily avoiding verbosity in a book that barely clears 100 pages. Although the theology is strict, the unassuming manner in which it is presented robs it of much of its unpalatability. In all, this excellent work is well worth the time it takes to read, even for the non-Christian. Despite a protestation to the contrary in the introduction, Lewis might well be a fit antagonist for Blake, whose Marriage of Heaven and Hell provided the inspiration for this book’s title.

© SL, 2004


Note:
This is my second entry into The Excellent and the Excruciating Write-Off, hosted by yours truly and CaptainD. For more information, follow the links below.

The details of the Excellent portion can be found here.

And the details of the Excruciating portion can be found here.

Recommended: Yes