I re-read C.S. Lewis’ Narnia Chronicles every few years. There’s something about Lewis’ portrayal of Christ in the Lion, Aslan, that rings truer than any other description save those in the Bible itself. The same is true of Lewis’ dramatization of how Christ relates to us, either as people of faith or of unbelief. There’s a triumphant scene in “The Last Battle,” for example, in which Aslan leaps joyously from one hilltop to the next, leading his followers deeper and deeper into his new creation with shouts of “further up and farther in!” Aslan’s subjects experience the new creation as more “real” than the England and Narnia they’ve recently departed, and realize that they’ve been longing for this country all their lives. When I read this scene I experience those very pangs of longing for that brighter country, along with the thrill of realizing Christ’s love, broader and deeper than I can comprehend, longs even more deeply to fellowship with me in that country.
If, like me, you’re a fan of Narnia — or of any of Lewis’ work — you’ll relish Wayne Martindale’s wonderful volume, “C.S. Lewis on Heaven and Hell — Beyond the Shadowlands.” Martindale serves as an experienced and loving guide to the landscapes Lewis painted of heaven and hell, primarily in fiction such as the Narnia and Perelandra books and the allegorical Great Divorce and Screwtape Letters.
Martindale’s book is divided into two sections — “Heaven” and “Hell” — each of which opens with Martindale’s summaries of popular “myths” about these destinations. Following the description of these myths, Martindale weaves in summaries from Lewis’ work to show how it provides a more accurate and rich portrayal of Heaven and Hell. Once common myth, for example, is that “Heaven will be boring,” a saccharine place of clouds, harps and fluffy angel wings. Lewis, in contrast, portrays a paradise that is perfectly real place of active delights, as in Perelandra, when the human character Ransom
floats on the oceans, finding the water refreshing to drink; enjoys the help of the animals, who delight in aiding him; is dazzled by its colors, including a sky that suggests the aurora Borealis; and discovers a new genus of pleasure in the taste of its fruits and the refreshing baths of the bubble trees. . . .
As Martindale observes, Lewis’ treatment of Hell is equally robust. Heaven, in Lewis’ work, is the full realization of human potential as God’s image-bearers. In Heaven, people become all they were made to be. Hell, in contrast, is the full realization of the Human choice to reject God. In Hell, people achieve their desire to be “left alone,” become something essentially sub-human, and find themselves tormented by that existence.
Martindale illustrates this theme with an episode from The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe, in which Aslan explains to Polly the effect upon Jadis, the White Witch, of stealing a life-giving fruit:
Things always work according to their nature. She has won her heart’s desire; she has unwearying strength and endless days like a goddess. But length of days with an evil heart is only length of misery, and already she begins to know it. All get what they want; they do not always like it.
For anyone who is troubled by common descriptions of Hell (as I am), Lewis’ works are a balm. In Lewis’ conception, Hell is not arbitrary. Its punishments are measured, proportionate, and just, and it holds no one within its walls who did not choose to go there.
Martindale obviously feels the same way, and in this lies the one failing of Beyond the Shadowlands. There is something of an Arminian streak in Lewis’ thinking about Heaven and Hell, or at least a studied aversion of categories such as “Arminian” and “Calvinist.” Even a “soft” Calvinist might wonder how God’s sovereignty and human total depravity relate to a concept of Heaven and Hell that relies so heavily on human choices. Martindale recognizes this problem, but doesn’t discuss it in any depth. Similarly, Martindale acknowledges a few other aspects of Lewis’ thought that might be controversial for many Evangelicals today, including his belief in a sort of purgatory and his hope that some who never hear of Christ might somehow be saved, but does not analyze them thoroughly. It would be a useful and interesting exercise to place Lewis’ views on these subjects into a more concrete, historical perspective, and to contrast them with the major positions held by Evangelicals today. But this is not Martindale’s purpose, and perhaps that kind of more searching analysis is better deferred to other sorts of books.
What Martindale does provide is an outstanding guide to Lewis’ portraits of Heaven and Hell. If the History Channel ever produces a biopic on Lewis and his works, I hope Martindale is the narrator and host. If you’ve read any of Lewis’ fictional and allegorical works, read Martindale’s volume and you’ll find yourself visiting warm, familiar places with new insight. If you haven’t read much Lewis, start with the Narnia Chronicles, follow along with Martindale as you read through the rest, and you’ll begin to see the grace of Christ and the life of faith in fresh and pleasant ways.
Note: The book reviewed was provided by Mind & Media as a gift from the publisher.