The Feast of C. S. Lewis

I never before realized that C.S. Lewis died on the same day as Jack Kennedy- November 22, 1963.

Kudos, in any case, to the Aardvark for his fine entry on this, Lewis's feast day: his birthday into eternal life.

Denise and I are looking forward to taking our Roman Catholic niece, Maddy, to see The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe when it comes out. Maddy tends to be a little frightened of wild animals- on her one visit to Ashton Observatory, which is located in the woods, she was constantly on the lookout for bears- so we're assuring her at every opportunity well in advance that, in the words of the Beavers, while Aslan isn't safe, he is nonetheless good.

I owe to Lewis my own way of reconciling the notion of hell with the goodness of God- Lewis, that is, and a bumper sticker I once saw while serving my first parish in Webster Groves, Missouri, which read, "Hell is a city much like St. Louis."

I wonder whether God giving those who want nothing to do with Him permission to do that very thing, and allowing people content to remain "turned inward on themselves" to be exactly that for all eternity, isn't finally the essence of perdition- and the most horrible thing of all, of which flames and pitchforks are mere, pale figures.