My slightly heretical view of Lewis and salvation, at my father's request . . .

Well Baba, here it is. I haven't looked at it in a while, and didn't have a chance to edit before submitting it, so I'm sure there are lots of things that need to be tweaked. For instance, glancing over the first paragraph just now, I'm realizing that I need to rewrite the entire way I refer to God . . . (especially given my last post =).

I wouldn't say this is my best work; I remember being very unhappy with it when I wrote it (over spring break at Megan's house), but it seemed to fit the conference theme better than anything else I had.

If you have any suggestions, or notice other issues, let me know.

C.S. Lewis, The Chronicles of Narnia, and the Issue of Religious Inclusivism
© 2007 Karith Magnuson

God the Father, who is deep and sacrificial love, sent His one and only Son, not to condemn the world, but to bring it life. As I Timothy 2:3-4 states, “God our savior [. . .] wants all men to be saved and to come to a knowledge of the truth.” This truth is the saving work of Jesus, who came that we might have life, and have it to the full. The life He gives is bread and light; it is salvation, redemption, and the forgiveness of sins. Grounded in the cross and resurrection, this life is eternal, and brings rightness with God and reconciliation with our neighbors. Ultimately, it is embodied in the very person of Jesus Christ.

But there seems to be a problem: God has provided salvation, but it is a limited salvation, available only to those who know His Son. Acts 4:12 reads, referring to Jesus, “salvation is found in no one else, for there is no other name under heaven given to men by which we must be saved,” and Jesus himself says, “no one comes to the Father except through me” (John 14:6). But what of those who suffer from ignorance, never having been exposed to the Gospel—those in other religions who are desperately seeking to serve God, but without having heard of Christ, or His atonement? Are they to be condemned for never believing in a name they have never heard? “Given that becoming a Christian is necessary for salvation,” argues James F. Sennett in his essay, “Worthy of a Better God,” “it follows that if God condemns one who has never heard the Gospel, then he is punishing that person for failing to do something she didn’t have the ability to do” (243). Where is the justice in that? Where is the mercy?

Romans 1:20 addresses this challenge, but with surprising implications. It states that, since creation, God’s invisible qualities have been clearly seen through nature, leaving humanity without excuse. This verse seems to suggest that humanity has always had the ability to turn to God, but is choosing not to. Those in this passage are not condemned for ignorance, but for willfully rejecting God. As verse twenty-one continues, “For although they knew God, they neither glorified him as God nor gave thanks to him.” There is no evidence that those spoken of in this passage know God through the divine revelation of scripture or Christ’s incarnation. Instead, they are held accountable for the general knowledge they possess—leading to the conclusion that it must be possible to know and please God, even without hearing the name of Christ.

This appears to be in direct contradiction to the Acts 4:12 and John 14:6 passages. How are they to be reconciled? According to John Sanders, the answer is religious inclusivism, the belief that “the unevangilized are saved or lost on the basis of their commitment, or lack thereof, to the God who saves through the work of Jesus” (qtd. in Nash 104). According to inclusivists, Christ’s atoning death is necessary for salvation, but knowledge of His death is not (Nash 104). This, in many ways, is a continuation of the belief that faith, not knowledge, saves. It is meeting Christ, not any idea about Christ, which is the important thing. Jesus’ own disciples rarely understood who He was, or what He was about to do. However, they knew Him, and that was enough to impel them to leave everything, and simply follow.

C.S. Lewis’s The Chronicles of Narnia is filled with examples of such encounters with Christ—such encounters with Aslan. In The Magician’s Nephew, Digory and Polly are entranced with the beauty of Narnia, the new world that is being sung into existence around them. However, once they see “the Singer himself . . . [they forget] everything else” (Lewis, MN 62). In The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe, a transformation occurs at the very first mention of Aslan’s name:

“They say Aslan is on the move—perhaps has already landed.”
And now a very curious thing happened. None of the children knew who Aslan was any more than you do; but the moment the Beaver had spoken these words everyone felt quite different [...] At the name of Aslan each one of the children felt something jump in its inside. (Lewis 141)

Then, in The Horse and his Boy, when Aslan reveals himself to Hwin and Bree, two talking horses from Narnia, they do not see the connection between the stories of Aslan and the fierce and dangerous lion before them. Nonetheless, Hwin, in an act she does not recognize as faith, trembling (in fear or delight), walks up to Aslan and tells him: “You’re so beautiful. You may eat me if you like. I’d sooner be eaten by you than fed by anyone else” (Lewis, HHB 299). And Aslan, before he has revealed his identity, in a moment that recalls Christ’s “Daughter, your faith has healed you. Go in peace” (Mark 5:34), kisses Hwin and declares her his child.

In all of these instances, Aslan is adored and worshiped before he is recognized, and in most cases, before he is named. Perhaps the greatest example of this doctrine-less conversion is Shasta’s meeting with the great Lion. After walking beside an invisible Aslan for some time, Shasta asks, “Who are you?” Aslan, refusing to name himself, replies, “Myself” (Lewis, HHB 281). When the fog clears, Shasta comes face-to-face with the King for the first time, and falls at the feet of the unnamed Beauty. He knows nothing of Aslan, not the lies of Calormen, nor the truth of Narnia, but he sees the Lion, and it is enough (Lewis, HHB 282).

However, all of this is one step removed from the issue of inclusivism. In the previous examples, encounters with Christ (or Aslan) save without being fully recognized for what they are, or who they are with—but they are with Aslan. In the same way, in Saul’s climactic conversion experience, he acknowledges the speaker as Lord before he knows who is speaking—but Christ is speaking (Acts 9:5). Arguing that encounters with Christ save, even when they are not recognized as encounters with Christ, is not the same as arguing that salvation can occur without encountering Christ. Lewis does seem to take this step, however, stating elsewhere that “there are people in other religions who are being led by God’s secret influence to concentrate on those parts of their religion which are in agreement with Christianity, and who thus belong to Christ without knowing it” (qtd. in Sennett 234). This seems to imply that not all who are saved will have come face-to-face with Christ, whether recognized or not.

But perhaps this is not what Lewis means by “belong[ing] to Christ without knowing it” (qtd. in Sennett 234). For, is he really saying that salvation can occur without encountering Christ, or is he arguing for the possibility of encountering Christ, not only without realizing that we have done so, but while actually thinking He is someone else? In other words, is it possible to have come to Christ through a different religion, not because Allah and Christ are the same, but because that which we called by the name of Allah, was actually Christ? Can we know Christ by a different name? Acts 4:12 appears to answer this question with a forceful negative, reminding us that Jesus has the only name with the power to save humanity. Lewis does not necessarily disagree, but he cautions us with the reminder that names, in our fallen state, tend to be misused.

Two examples from The Chronicles of Narnia bear testimony to this fact. In The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe, Mr. Beaver is furious to hear the White Witch call herself Queen of Narnia, but Aslan is unperturbed. He affirms that titles have indeed been stolen, but promises that “all names will soon be restored to their proper owners” (Lewis, LWW 175). Then, in The Last Battle, there occurs an even more significant misuse of names. In it, a donkey is disguised to look like Aslan, and is given the blasphemous name “Tashlan,” a mix between Tash, the demon god, and Narnia’s true Lord. However, even this false name does nothing to alter reality, and the true natures of the donkey, Tash, and Aslan all remain unchanged. As the young Calormen warrior, Emeth, argues: the existence of a false Tash does not make the real Tash any less true (Lewis, LB 756)—and it is this loyalty that sets him apart as “worthy of a better God” (Lewis, LB 728). Aslan himself declares, “if any man swear by Tash and keep his oath for the oath’s sake, it is by me that he has truly sworn, though he know it not, and it is I who reward him. And if any man do a cruelty in my name, then, though he says the name Aslan, it is Tash whom he serves and by Tash his deed is accepted” (Lewis, LB 757). This is because Aslan and Tash, regardless of name, retain their identities and are unchanging.

Therefore, although Christ saves, Lewis seems to argue that he does so through His deeper name, the name that manifests His very identity and cannot be misused—“Myself” (Lewis, HHB 281) the “I AM” (Exodus 3:14). For, ultimately, it is not any word, but Christ Himself, who brings life. It is the person behind the name, not the name itself, which is infinitely significant. Aslan can respond to the White Witch’s treachery with the words, “Peace, Beaver” (Lewis, LWW 175), because her misuse of sacred titles can have no ultimate effect. She can lie, but she can never change reality. In the same way, Tashlan can be invoked, but Aslan remains himself, regardless of name. As Aslan tells Emeth, “Not because [Tash] and I are one, but because we are opposites—I take to me the services which thou has done to him” (Lewis, LB 757). The implication is that Jesus, the one and only, who declared that “no servant can serve two masters” (Luke 16:13), is so abounding in goodness that service done to Him will never be mistaken for anything else.

Of course, Lewis may be in danger of taking this concept too far. His emphasis on good motives has the danger of focusing salvation on human actions and attitudes, rather than on Christ’s all-redeeming grace. In The Screwtape Letters, Screwtape makes the statement, “[God] often makes prizes of humans who have given their lives for causes He thinks bad on the monstrously sophistical ground that the humans thought them good and were following the best they knew” (Lewis 136). And Lewis once wrote in a letter, “I think that every prayer which is sincerely made even to a false god or to a very imperfectly conceived true God, is accepted by the true God and that Christ saves many who do not think they know him” (qtd. in Sennett 235). One problem with these statements is that they assume a capacity for sincerity, and authentically good motives, in unredeemed humans. They also imply that those virtues are enough to gain God’s grace. But are we not taught that, although Christ transforms us, and through Him we can do all things, without Him we are dead? Has Lewis progressed from the possibility of encountering Jesus by a different name, to the non-necessity of encountering Him at all?

Before this question can be answered, however, we must establish the effect that encountering Christ actually has on the process of inheriting eternal life. In the previous examples of salvation in Narnia, transformation always comes when Aslan is seen. Does this mean that encounter and salvation are synonymous, and that experience of Christ is enough to bring life in itself? If so, and God’s goodness, beauty, and terror are too awesome to be resisted, then God could force Himself upon us by simply revealing His presence. However, this is not the case—a choice must still be made. In The Horse and his Boy, Prince Rabadash meets Aslan with the hate-filled words: “Demon! Demon! Demon! [. . .] I know you. You are the foul fiend of Narnia” (Lewis 307). This statement bears a strange resemblance to the demonic cry of recognition: “What do you want with us, Jesus of Nazareth? Have you come to destroy us? I know who you are—the Holy One of God!” (Mark 1:24). Rabadash stands as a reminder that Aslan’s grace must be accepted, not simply experienced. As James 2:19 states, even the demons believe—and shudder.

But if encountering Aslan is not enough to lead to salvation, the question still remains, is it necessary? The answer to this question is complex, but ultimately, I think it is affirmative. Coming to life in Christ is a perplexing and mysterious process, about which C.S. Lewis says, “A good many different theories have been held as to how it works; [but] what all Christians are agreed on is that it does work” (Mere Christianity 37). Although we may never fully understand how Christ saves, part of His work seems inextricably bound up in the individual’s response to “the central Christian belief [. . .] that Christ’s death has somehow put us right with God and given us a fresh start” (Lewis, Mere Christianity 37). In God’s infinite wisdom and mercy, Christ’s grace does not seem to be enough; we must respond to that grace. We must respond to Him. And how are we to respond, if we never encounter Him?

This is not a question of knowing Christ by the right name, or of knowing “the true stories of Aslan” (Lewis, HHB 282), but of simply knowing Him. It is about having the opportunity to look Him in the face—Him of who Emeth says, “It is better to see the Lion and die than to be the Tisroc of the world and live and not to have seen him” (Lewis, LB 756). And it is about responding to that look, with either hatred or love. For, ultimately, those seem to be the only choices. As Christ himself states, “He who is not with me is against me” (Mathew 12:30).
But if an encounter with Christ is necessary, then we are back to a slightly modified version of the question, what of those who have never heard? It now becomes, what of those who have never seen? Never seen Aslan, never looked into the eyes that are “gold that is liquid in the furnace” (Lewis, LB 756), or had him touch his tongue to their foreheads—what of them? Is this a twisted form of predestination, where Christ reveals Himself to some, and not to others, therefore selecting those who can choose to respond, and banishing the rest to the darkness? I believe C.S. Lewis answers this challenge with an emphatic no.

I John 2:23 reads: “No one who denies the Son has the Father; whoever acknowledges the Son has the Father also.” The implication is that, to lose life, Jesus must be denied, not merely lived in ignorance of. If salvation results from a person’s belief in Christ, once encountered, then, conversely, damnation is a rejection of Christ, also once encountered. Salvation cannot occur without meeting God, but neither can damnation. Both result from a person’s response to the Messiah, and response requires encounter.

And encounter we shall have, every one of us—though not necessarily on this earth. The Bible makes it very clear that all of humanity shall stand before its Maker on the Day of Judgment. Christian or not, we shall all have our hearts laid bear and be without excuse. As Lewis says of that day, “This time it will be God without disguise; something so overwhelming that it will strike either irresistible love or irresistible horror into every creature [. . .] That will not be the time for choosing: it will be the time when we discover which side we really have chosen, whether we realized it before or not” (Mere Christianity 42). We shall see the glory of the Lord, and we shall respond with all that we are, and ever have been.

In the Bible, Jesus states, “Seek and you will find; knock and the door will be opened to you. For everyone who asks receives” (Matthew 7:7-8). The promise is that those who search will find God—but when is never specified. In The Last Battle, Emeth meets Aslan on the other side of death, and like Shasta on the mountaintop, takes one look at the Glorious One and falls on his face in worship. And Aslan, who is “more terrible than the Flaming Mountain of Lagour, and in beauty [. . .] surpasse[s] all that is in the world even as the rose in bloom surpasses the dust of the desert” (Lewis, LB 756), responds by bending his glorious head to kiss the Calormen’s forehead. Sennett argues that the only significant difference between Shasta’s meeting with the Lion, and Emeth’s, is that the one takes place in life, and the other after death. And this is only important because it is not important at all: “Aslan’s ability to grant the grace that is the natural culmination of the journey is not limited by the confines of birth and death [. . .] In the context of the all important matter of searching after truth, the question of which side of the Stable Door Emeth stands on when he finds it strikes us as totally irrelevant—and it is. All that is relevant is what the Lion knows—that Emeth, like Shasta, was on the journey (Sennett 241).” Whether Christ is met in life or death is insignificant—the important factor is that, once seen, He is embraced.

In the end, Lewis is urging us to throw ourselves on the mercy of God. We must seek truth, respond to the beauty we see, and go forward in obedience. We can only walk on in the knowledge we have, but walk on we must. Ultimately, many of us may find ourselves in the position of Emeth, meeting the Lion with the brokenhearted confession, “I have been seeking Tash all my days.” But our God is a God of mercy, as well as justice, and Aslan’s response is not to condemn, but to declare, “Beloved [. . .] unless thy desire had been for me thou wouldst not have sought so long and so truly. For all find what they truly seek” (Lewis, LB 757). Regardless of language, the I AM is Lord, and He will reward all who have honestly pursued Him. Every journey will culminate in an audience with the High King, and there shall be no excuses. He shall either be the fulfillment of everything we have lived and longed for, or the horror we have always fled. All things shall be made clear, “justice shall be mixed with mercy” (HHB 307), and God shall save all who are truly His.

Works Cited

Lewis, C.S. The Horse and his Boy. The Chronicles of Narnia. New York: HarperCollins, 2001. 205-309.
---. The Last Battle. The Chronicles of Narnia. New York: HarperCollins, 2001. 669-767.
---. The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe. The Chronicles of Narnia. New York: HarperCollins, 2001.111-197.
---. The Magician’s Nephew. The Chronicles of Narnia. New York: HarperCollins, 2001. 11-106.
---. Mere Christianity. The Complete C.S. Lewis Signature Classics. New York: HarperCollins, 2002. 1-118.
---. The Screwtape Letters. The Complete C.S. Lewis Signature Classics. New York: HarperCollins, 2002. 125-188.
Nash, Ronald H. Is Jesus the Only Savior? Grand Rapids: Zondervan, 1994.
Sennett, James F. “Worthy of a Better God: Religious Diversity and Salvation in The Chronicles of Narnia.” The Chronicles of Narnia and Philosophy: The Lion, the Witch, and the Worldview. Ed. Gregory Bassham and Jerry L. Walls. Chicago: Open Court, 2005.