Month: April 2023

Lewis misquoted for graduation

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(A 2023 graduation card)

It’s any day of any year, which means that somewhere C. S. Lewis is being misquoted in spades.

In this particular case, the misquote appears in a bad font on a trite graduation card distributed by Papyrus, which is perhaps the most trite font of all, but I digress.

Here’s the offending phrase:

There are far, far better things ahead than any we leave behind – C. S. Lewis

Item the first: This pseudo-quote lacks a full stop. How hard is to write a complete sentence? Not hard. Period.

Item the second: The words “far, far” are often added to this particular pseudo-quote in order to amplify the sentiment. Really and truly. Indeed and yes. For sure and certain.

Item the third: The artwork implies that what lies ahead is some kind of ethereal life journey in which a person will traverse meadows and scale heights and discover glorious delights all while enjoying the aroma of wildflowers and herbs and probably not doing any real life things such as grocery shopping, washing dishes, cleaning toilets, paying bills, folding laundry, and showing up for work each day.

Item the fourth: This pseudo-quote is so completely taken out of context on this graduation card that it’s hard not to wonder whether there are any editorial checks and balances in this world any more.

On June 17, 1963, Lewis responded to Mary Willis Shelburne (a regular correspondent of his as found in The Collected Letters and Letters to an American Woman). We don’t have the immediately previous letter she wrote to him, but we know the context: she was lying in a hospital with what she thought was a terminal illness. She was afraid of dying. Lewis wrote the following to her:

Dear Mary Willis,

This is terrible news. The doctor who refused to come wd., I think, be liable to criminal prosecution in this country.

Pain is terrible, but surely you need not have fear as well? Can you not see death as the friend and deliverer? It means stripping off that body which is tormenting you: like taking off a hair-shirt or getting out of a dungeon. What is there to be afraid of? You have long attempted (and none of us does more) a Christian life. Your sins are confessed and absolved. Has this world been so kind to you that you should leave it with regret? There are better things ahead than any we leave behind.

Remember, tho’ we struggle against things beause we are afraid of them, it is often the other way round – we get afraid because we struggle. Are you struggling, resisting? Don’t you think Our Lord says to you ‘Peace, child, peace. Relax. Let go. Underneath are the evelasting arms. Let go, I will catch you. Do you trust me so little?’

Of course, this may not be the end. Then make it a good rehearsal.

Yours (and like you a tired traveller near the journey’s end),

Jack

Try putting that on a graduation card. It’s really more of a post-get-well sentiment in which context the artwork on this card might serve (feebly) what with its thin attempt at heavenly landscape. “Further up and further in,” as Jewel the unicorn would say.

Turns out Mary’s health scare was indeed just a rehearsal. She lived another 12 years. Lewis, though, died just five months after writing this letter.

There are plenty of actual C. S. Lewis quotes that would be apropos for a graduation card. They wouldn’t coddle or coo, though; they would challenge and charge, in the best of ways.

As it stands, this card should have said:

There are better things ahead than any we leave behind. – C. S. Lewis, to a woman on her presumed deathbed

That might not sell well, but at least it would be honest.

Maundy Thursday thoughts

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(This blog post was originally published on April 17, 2014.)

During this Holy Week, I’ve thought quite a lot about Jesus washing his disciples’ feet. I’ve worked my way through some tricky Greek words, wrestled with the exasperating response of Peter (who can always be counted on for that kind of thing), and contemplated the gravity of the coming days.

But mostly, I’ve just thought about Jesus – the son of God, the Almighty incarnate- kneeling down in willing service to wash 24 dusty, dirty, calloused, cracked, leathery, worn, and smelly feet.

It was an insignificant and lowly job, that foot-washing thing, worthy of nobody beyond the lowest servant. It’s a task that doesn’t get noticed, an action that doesn’t get lauded, which is perhaps why the three earliest gospel writers don’t even record it: because it wasn’t something people paid attention to; because its significance was completely lost on those who were right there to see it and experience it.

That’s the thing about foot-washing. When done in the right spirit, for the right reasons, people aren’t likely to take notice. That’s because most foot-washing jobs are entirely inglorious. Entirely. They are not the stuff of headline news or award ceremonies or viral retweets.

They are the dusty, dirty, calloused, cracked, leathery, worn, and smelly jobs. The jobs that absolutely no one wants to do. Ever. Not even a tiny little bit.

Except Jesus – who consistently throws a wrench in the way humanity would choose to live were it left to its own devices.

Like many others in a ministry community, I have washed another person’s feet – one set, anyway, after a month of really hard work during which some of us didn’t perhaps love each other quite as well as we should have all the time, so, you know, we washed feet to make things right and to publicly express unity and grace, forgiveness and humility, which, though beautiful in its own way, isn’t really the point of that foot-washing thing.

What Jesus did when he washed those 24 feet – two of whom belonged to a traitorous friend – certainly embodied unity and grace, forgiveness and humility. But more importantly, it displayed an attitude that says:

  • I will do the task that no one else will do.
  • I will do the task that most others consider to be beneath them.
  • I will do the task that promises no rewards or accolades or notice.
  • I will do the task that goes unnoticed and unappreciated.
  • I will do the task that others overlook.
  • I will do the task that everyone else takes for granted.
  • I will do the task that leads to nothing bigger and better and grander.
  • I will do the task that is unpleasant and messy and sometimes even disgusting.
  • And I will do it quietly, discreetly, and humbly, to the best of my ability, with a gracious spirit.

As moving and beautiful and sincere as our actual foot-washing ceremonies may be – whether in the context of summer camp, large ministry communities, or intimate small groups – washing feet isn’t Jesus’ real challenge for us. Rather, it is to have a foot-washing attitude. In every situation. All the time.

We are all incapable of this on our own. Entirely. A foot-washing attitude cannot grow except in a soul overflowing with the Spirit’s love and grace and strength. A foot-washing attitude cannot thrive except in a life that is totally surrendered to the Lord’s sovereignty. Even more elemental, a foot-washing attitude cannot even be except in those who know their true identity in Christ, know their purpose, and have an eternal perspective – just as Jesus did.

Jesus knew that the Father had given him authority over everything, and that he had come from God, and would return to God. SO – he got up from the table, took off his robe, wrapped a towel around his waist, poured water into a basin, and began to wash the disciples’ feet.

During this Holy Week, when the cross proclaims his immeasurable love and the empty tomb proclaims his infinite power, that foot-washing thing that Jesus did proclaims his wholly servant-minded and humble attitude. We would do well to remember it and do likewise.