C.S. Lewis and Imagination as the Gateway to Reason

I have been reading C.S. Lewis since I was able to read chapter books in the second grade. In fact, The Lion, The Witch, and the Wardrobe might have been one of the first chapter books I read by myself. And here I am, years later, still with an imaginative fascination for Lewis. While The Chronicles still hold a special emotional (and academic) place in my heart, as I have gotten older, Lewis’ works have acted as a Way for my path. I use the term “Way” intentionally, as I allude to Lewis’ collection of three lectures, compiled in his publication The Abolition of Man and Lewis’ conception of the Tao. And yet, while Abolition is a profoundly rewarding (and challenging) piece cautioning us against the dangers of subjectivity, I want to explore Lewis’ relationship with imagination, ironically enough a concept that would seem to share its essence with subjective experiences. Unless you are Lewis.

You see, Lewis, a natural debater and rhetorician, felt called to write in defense of the Christian faith during his life, producing memorable Christian apologetics such as The Problem of Pain (1940), Miracles (1947, and arguably as challenging, if not more than Abolition) and Mere Christianity (1952). Within these apologetic works, among others, Lewis sets out to present a methodological defense of the Christian faith. And while these works have blessed many hearts within the Church, Lewis himself was not happy writing them. As Luke C. Sheahan notes, “Lewis found apologetics emotionally and spiritually draining. He simply didn’t like it” (162). One of the chief reasons for Lewis’ aversion in apologetic writing was that it was founded upon what the medieval man would call the ratio, the rational part of the soul. While there is a place for reason, Lewis felt that in defending the Christian faith, rationality was lacking in its role. Rather, as some speculate due to his debate with Elizabeth Anscombe in 1948, Lewis turned to imagination as a route to demonstrate the truth of the Christian faith. As outlined in an essay titled “Meditations in a Toolshed,” Lewis notes the difference between “looking at” something and “looking along” an object. “The idea of ‘looking at’ is associated with science and reason,’ writes Sheahan, “and the experience of ‘looking along’ is associated with the imagination and poetic interpretation of real experiences…Both are telling us true things. We do not necessarily need to choose between them” (164-65). However, as Sheahan notes, we can only really “look at” something once we have “looked along” it (165). This helps explain why Lewis dove into what Alistair McGrath calls “imaginative narrative apologetics” (255). For Lewis, our rational faculties were incapable of translating the truths we experience into language with “meaning appropriate to these higher pleasures” (Sheahan 166). Thus, rather than contemplate issues through rational discourse, to really understand them through experiential knowledge, Lewis turned to the imagination.

While this blog post is not a defense of Lewis’ imaginative apologetics and its effectivity upon individuals, I do want to note the human truth Lewis seems to be getting at. How many times do we lack words to describe that which we feel and know to be true, and yet our rational minds cannot succeed in communicating those truths? How many times do we need analogies to transpose the real world into our comprehension? It’s not that you can’t tell someone to trust and honor his parents, rather than leaving home to spend his money frivolously. But how much more impactful is it when we use our imagination to experience the truth of a father’s welcoming arms to his once lost son? Lewis, in some sense, is actually appealing more to the Christian biblical ethos when presenting spiritual truths through the eyes of the Pevensie children. And yet, we must ask ourselves, when does our imagination go too far? When does it bleed into the realm of unchecked subjectivity, that which Lewis called, “The Poison of Subjectivism?” Abolition cautions us against the belief that important assertions are only assertions “about our own feelings” (1-2). While we engage with sentimental thoughts, according to Lewis, the claim that the waterfall is beautiful is not simply an emotional statement, but a statement of objective truth.

The reason I raise this point is because technology, in any age, tempts man to reject an imagination that points outwards and rather celebrate an imagination which points inwards. As Gregory E. Jordan writes in his article, “The Invention of Man: A Response to C.S. Lewis’s The Abolition of Man,”

Self-knowledge and world-knowledge could enable a state of mind to make wiser and more coherent decisions about self-modification than it would make if it took into account only momentary impulses or a limited subset of authentic human nature. A knower of this sort could be ‘true to itself’ and possess integrity because it would draw upon an understanding of its whole self and its context in the whole cosmos. (39)

Jordan, while never explicitly using the term “imagination,” does note technology’s fast advances and its link with human modification. Undoubtedly, such advancements such as “computerized implants, brain-machine interfaces, mind uploading, [and] nanoscale devices” require human creativity and imaginative thinking (Jordan 35). And yet, we must note where the imagination’s use is directed towards: “self-knowledge” and “world-knowledge.” As Jordan writes, “Humans’ ability to modify their own minds might allow them to become more human, that is, possess to a more notable degree whatever characteristics they consider distinctively human” (40; emphasis in original). In our modern, secular age, imagination is centered inwardly, to our own minds, searching for ways to become “more human.” What does it mean to become “more human?” I’d imagine Lewis would retort by claiming anything more than human reaches into the divine. From Lewis’ perspective, while we are made in God’s image, we most certainly are not God; believing such leads towards self-idolatry.

Rather than allowing our imaginations to turn inward, Lewis through his imaginative fiction, suggests we turn our imaginations outward, towards that which Charlie W. Starr would term the “truly Real.” Lewis’ imagination works not to uphold the superiority of man’s abilities, but rather to highlight our fallen nature and our need to rely upon that which is greater than ourselves. For Lewis, when we turn inwardly towards our own desires, while the Turkish Delight might taste great at first, the unforeseen consequences are lingering just beyond the snow-covered trees. This is why, for Lewis, our imagination acts as a gateway to our reason, allowing us to see along and, thus, look at issues from a Christian imaginative stance.