Surprised by Joy. By C.S. Lewis. Boston: Mariner Books,
2012. 238 pages. Reviewed by Randy Everist.
This book, penned by C.S. Lewis
originally in 1955, is intended to be a story of how Lewis was converted, and
is not, primarily, to be conceived of as an autobiography (vii). As such, while
the story is nearly completely chronological, it is more thematically arranged
than anything else. This theme moves from early childhood to early adulthood;
it seems that he was converted by 1929.
The first stage of Lewis’ life
concerned the state of imagination. This occupied much of his young life and
played an important role in it (15). One can see in his creation of “Animal
Land” and its rich history his imagination that would set the stage for his
later works of fiction. In many ways, it is quite appropriate for Lewis to have
begun with the child-like wonder of Joy, hinted at in imagination, because of
his life stages. Those stages, as they seemed represented, were as follows: imagination, with the hints of Joy; introspection, with its self-serving
attempt at religious devotion; intellectualism,
with education leading to arrogance and a rejection of God; interference, with Lewis’ views being
laid bare for the contradictions that they were; and finally, invitation, with his acceptance of
theism (and later Christianity).
For Lewis, Joy is “a technical term
and must be sharply distinguished from Happiness and from Pleasure” (18). Joy
is a desire “which is itself more desirable than any other satisfaction” (18).
As such, the pursuit of it could just as often have resulted in grief or
sorrow, or a sense of loss. This is because Joy, for Lewis, seemed often enough
elusive. He remarked that, in a sense, his life was about nothing less than the
pursuit of Joy (17). The phase of imagination, unfortunately, was interrupted
by the death of his mother (succumbing to cancer). It is remarkable that so
tragic and impactful an event should have been given such little coverage
(perhaps two and a half pages); yet Lewis implicitly recognizes its
significance whenever he writes of the relationship between him and his father.
The phase of introspection, as it
seems to be, occurs when Lewis is sent off to school. He curiously nicknames
the headmaster of his school Oldie, and Oldie was a very stern man (26). The
students were actually taught very little, and Oldie was content only to teach
them geometry and administer a good beating. Interestingly, this is treated by
Lewis almost as though it had happened to someone else. One would be forgiven
for thinking that it was not of much impact to his life. Clearly, however, it
was. Aside from his own father, Lewis referred to Oldie by name the most throughout
the rest of the book.
While Lewis’ intellectual and
imaginative life faltered while at Oldie’s school, he did eventually move on to
another school. Within these school changes, he began to rediscover his
imagination. It was also during this time he would have classified himself as a
true believer. A telling anecdote about his immature faith is that Lewis would
attempt what he called “realizations;” these were prayers where he tried to
focus on really meaning what he was praying (61-62). Of course, this can lead
to an infinite regress. For what if one wants to be sure he really means that
he wants to really mean his prayers? One can never be sure of an answer to this
question. As a result, this introspection resulted in spiritual frustration.
The third phase is of
intellectualism, leading to Lewis’ rejection of God altogether. Throughout each
of these phases, one gets the sense that Lewis retained what he would later
call “signposts” of the truth: he was able to see glimpses of the real Joy, but
it was not itself real Joy. It merely pointed to God. When Lewis went to Wyvern
College, this had the ultimate result of his intellectual pursuits as an
atheist. In Wyvern, there was a class system where new students were obliged to
serve the older, so that they may not think too highly of themselves (88-89).
However, Wyvern gave him a sense of superiority over others who were not as
widely read as he (101). He writes of his anger with God thusly: “I maintained
that God did not exist. I was also very angry with God for not existing. I was
equally angry with Him for creating a world” (115).
Despite the entire point of Surprised by Joy being to tell the story
of Lewis’ conversion, the actual details surrounding the conversion itself (the
final two stages) occupy very little of the work. In fact, it is the entire
book that is the story of his conversion, since the sum of his experiences explains what occurred, rather than
merely relaying information. The stages of interference and invitation nearly
run together. Though separated by a gulf of time where Lewis accepts mere
theism but not Christianity, it seems clear from this vantage point that he was
always headed that direction. God used men like J.R.R. Tolkien, who was both a
“Papist” and a “philologist,” (216) to help him to see that some of the most
intelligent people he had ever encountered were believers, and they seemed to
be closer to the truth behind Joy than were the irreligious.
Lewis came to believe that either
Hinduism or Christianity was true, but not both. Indeed, he came to believe
that what was good, true, and commendable about any given religion could be
accounted for better by one of these two. In the end, it was Christianity’s
historical claim that persuaded him to become a Christian. Lewis came in, as he
describes it, “kicking and screaming,” and eventually praised God for his love
and mercy (229).
Lewis accomplishes his goal of
conveying his conversion story. He weaves a metanarrative through the telling
of various episodes of his life, showing how each plays a role in not only his
deconversion (if it may be called that), but his conversion to Christianity as
well. It comes highly recommended for laypeople, pastors, and lovers of
literature. Stylistically, he occasionally relays anecdotes or hints of
anecdotes that serve to confuse (such as his hint that he has a major story
left out on p. 198—why mention it?), though usually all becomes clear from his
particular anecdotes.
A particular strength of
Lewis—perhaps the particular strength of his—is his ability to see into the
heart of the nature of man. This existential reflection seems to be woven
throughout the entire work. For example, he recognizes that no particular
experience of Pleasure or Happiness is itself Joy. This is because Joy, as a
technical term with a stipulative definition given, is just a sign pointing to
the more permanent. He recognizes that God designed man to be in fellowship
with Him, and thus no earthly pleasure can be a fulfilling and lasting eternal
Joy.
Psychologically, Lewis also
recognized the arrogance that came with his youthful atheism. He writes that he
was shocked he did not recognize as absurd that what was so easily understood
as a young man escaped the veritable minds of Christians that had come before
him (215). This absurdity was, Lewis suggested, due to his blindness. An
extrapolation of this suggestion is that there are undoubtedly others who are
atheists and remain comfortable in their intellectual superiority due in large
part to blindness. It is to Lewis’ credit that he does not attempt to diagnose
the whole world; he is giving a tale of how he
came to Christianity, not necessarily others. He clearly achieves his goal of
relaying that metanarrative, with each of the major parts intact.
Another strength was Lewis’ ability
to speak with humility. One never reached the sense that he was extolling his
intellectual prowess in coming to the truth of Christianity, nor was he
demeaning the intelligence of those who did not so come. In fact, some of his
kindest remarks are reserved for Kirk, the man who taught Lewis logical
thinking and reasoning. His intellectual conversations did not seem to be
fraught with conflict, and the times when it may have been, he frankly admitted
it had been so on his part alone. This level of honesty allows the reader to
take Lewis at his word, and thus makes his message more likely to come through
than it would have otherwise.
Nonetheless, the book is not without
some weaknesses (albeit seemingly minor ones that do not affect his overall
point much). First, it seems he makes far too little of the horrifying situation
at Wyvern with respect to the “Tarts” (88). He almost casually relates that the
younger boys were asked or persuaded to do sexual favors for the older boys,
and that this was due in large part because there were no females around. This
struck me as quite depraved, and while Lewis stated he did not focus on it
because it was not a vice with which he struggled, it would seem that two
responses are in order.
First, his defense of these
homosexual acts being no worse than other particular vices is a double-edged
sword. While it seems he exposes some hypocritical attitudes by some toward
homosexuality, it does seem to fly in the face of Romans 1. All sins are sins
against God and therefore worthy of punishment, but not all sins bear the same
consequences (both temporal and eternal). If this is the case, it is most
plausibly because some sins really are farther away from the moral standard
than others. Second, I think Lewis has underestimated the effect this likely
had on his deconversion. Having such debauchery as normal, even if one does not
partake in it, surely affects one’s soul. An unregenerate soul, further, cannot
be expected to cope as well. With atheism often comes moral lapse preceding;
this appears to be the case here as well.
Next, Lewis seemed receptive to a
type of thoroughgoing evidentialism that he did not repudiate or even seem to
amend in his later years (136). The idea is that he seemed to accept the idea
that in order to believe some particular proposition, one must have evidence
for that proposition. But evidence is not always available for a particular
proposition, and yet sometimes people are justified in holding that position.
Take the proposition that “My name is Randy.” I certainly can investigate this belief by perusing legal documents, consulting
the state, interviewing doctors, etc.—even though these will eventually run
into a problem—but I am nonetheless justified in taking my parents’ word for it
(all things being equal). There are also some beliefs for which there can be no
further justifying evidence: these beliefs are called foundational beliefs. In
normal situations, evidence is needed for holding a belief, but not in all.
Finally, Lewis seems to take for
granted a certain Kantian view on a few areas (including ethics and
metaphysics). For example, he granted Kant’s view of the distinction between
the noumena (the really “real”) and the phenomena (the mere appearance of the
real) (198-99). However, if this is accepted, then one cannot really speak of
God as he is in reality, since God belongs to the noumenal realm. Only an
approximation of what God appears to us to be like can be known. Possibly, this
is illustrated in his metaphor of Shakespeare inserting himself as a character
in one of his plays as standing for the Incarnation (227). In this case,
Shakespeare’s character is not actually himself, but a mere representation.
This can be seen in a character’s interactions with the author, as claimed by
Lewis. He suggests a mere character cannot interact with the author (226). But
if this is so, what if Shakespeare’s character, who is in the story, is killed?
Does it follow the author actually dies? If not, then it seems the character of
the author and the author himself are not identical, and surely identity is
necessary for sameness of persons!
This book was a fascinating,
encouraging, and honest read. It was intellectual without being heady;
existential without being flighty; insightful without being arrogant. I can
wholeheartedly recommend it for anyone interested in the spiritual lives of
those non-Christians around them, and for anyone who has ever struggled with
deconversion and doubt.
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