Lewis's Liar, Lunatic, Lord of all,
or Lion, or Leprechaun.
Thomas Aquinas? Really?
C. S. Lewis famously once argued that, if one was going to be logical (while at the same time rhetorically privileging the letter L), one was liable to admit, upon pain of losing one's last little claim to living, that "Lord of all" was the only laudable line from the list above to apply to the Lamb of God. To say otherwise, labels one as a little less than the angels, and more like a Lollard or, likely enough, a lover of Lucifer.
I may be wrong about that. But, there, I've finally said it. I disagree with the Trilemma. I needed that last sentence just to free from the L-shaped vacuum my rhetoric had fallen into. Free at last.
I am not, like some contemporary apologists for Christianity, against the use of logic. I just see some other options. Jesus might have been wrong and not been a madman. For example. We have a word for that. It's "wrong." But it doesn't start with L.
Jesus also might have been a liar but for what he hoped and thought was some higher good, whatever that might be. I don't think this is true. But it seems to me that we would not think too badly of this man from Galilee if he was saying something he knew not to be totally accurate for the purposes, let's say, of alleviating a bit of the sum total of human suffering.
Maybe I think that most people think differently about lying (especially in exceptional circumstances)than perhaps Lewis did. Bonhoeffer lied every day about the fact that he was a double-agent and was actually a collaborator in a plot to overthrow Hitler's Nazi regime. And, if I understand it right, he lied doubly -- to the Nazis about his efforts against the government and to people who (previously) respected him about why he was working for the devil.
Even if this isn't the most accurate description of Bonhoeffer's deceptions, I don't think I would judge him as a "bad man" (except in his own theological terms as a fallen human being) because of them.
Of course, there is another, more plausible argument against the argument. It is that the records are not as reliable as Lewis seems to assume they are. I believe he did assume that they were reliable, and I don't fault him for that. It just needs to be foregrounded more thoroughly in the argument (which it is, usually, by the apologists for his apologetic).
But I come not to bury Lewis, I come to praise him. C. S. Lewis is one of my favorite writers, one of my favorite (dead) human beings, and a man not only of great wisdom but great imagination. My point is that even as a friend and yes, something like a disciple, of Lewis, I don't necessarily agree with everything he wrote about anything, including the Incarnation of the Son of God.
Which brings me to Monday of the First Week of Advent, 2019. And that's the Year of Our Lord 2019. Although it might not be technically accurate, that's still a really large number. Of years. Since that incarnation. If that's what it was.
And here I am. And here you are. And yet . . . and yet, some of us aren't going anywhere. We refuse to budge. Despite all those years. Despite the fact that those who claim His name and Lordship have been, are, and will be (one assumes) A MESS. Including me in that group, of course. You too. Sorry.
I sometimes feel like Peter, the fisherman not the High King of Narnia, who really was a piece of work, as they say, but held on to one thing (until he couldn't one night in the high priest's courtyard). Where else am I going to go? You have the word's of eternal life.
I don't know Hebrew well enough to know if Jesus strung "L's" together to make his words more rhetorically effective. Come to think of it, I guess he actually spoke Aramaic. Come to think of it, I guess we actually just have a Greek translation of what he said in Aramaic. Come to think of it, there is much about which I am unsure.
Sometimes I guess I am unsure why I am still following the "man from Galilee" as that pretty bad pop country Jesus hit of the 70s put it. But I know I am. And I know I intend to. And I know I need to.
Ironic Advent has always meant for me that I feel called to spend my time wisely (like the wise not foolish virgins, like Zechariah and Elizabeth, like my (dead) friends from the last two thousand years, and yes, probably , like C. S. Lewis) preparing for a coming King . . . who has already come.
And that's what I'm trying to do. That's why I try to focus my mind and heart and imagination and stomach and, yes, even my . . . skepticism (one of my strong points) towards the story, the tradition, the culture, the practices, and the (dead) people of Advent.
I continue to believe that the world is charged, even when I'm not plugged in properly. And I'm still looking for the plug (it need not be three-pronged) that fits my navel and completes the circuit. I get the glimmerings which get me to trembling about the great mystery of power and love. Then I get some glimpses of the love. From a child being carried by a parent on the way up to communion. From a sister who would do anything for her family, for my family. From a son who held me tight when my own brother was passing into the mystery. From a friend who trusts me when I don't trust myself.
I'm on a good road. Good for me. You've got yours. If you are stopping for that beat up guy by the side of the road, sharing your bread and wine, and getting a little weepy when the choir starts singing "O Come O Come Emmanuel," you are reminding me to get my ass back on track. Thanks for that.
On Friday, I'm part of a little gathering inspired by C. S. Lewis at which we will talk about the difference between "Xmas" and Christmas. The biggest difference I can think of is that Advent is the road to get to where the goodness is. So I'm here. Check back with me in 23 days to see how I'm doing. Or in 2029, for that matter. If I'm here, I intend to be here. Peace.
It's time for prayer:
O God + come to my assistance,
O Lord, make haste to help me.
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