Plato, Anselm, and “The Silver Chair”

Table of Contents

Introduction

In the pages of The Chronicles of Narnia, Lewis has been found to draw up blatant examples of Christian truths and themes. Aslan’s death on the Table and rising again in The Lion the Witch and the Wardrobe being parallel to Jesus’s sacrifice on the Cross; his asking of Eustace to puncture his hand with a thorn when bringing new life to Caspian being a representation of the crown of thorns and nails that pierced the hands of our Savior; Eustace’s transformation in The Voyage of the Dawn Treader being a symbol for salvation, conversion, and baptism; the list can go on for how Lewis used Narnia’s characters to their full capacity for allegory. However, I do not believe that Lewis is so simple a man to carve in only the most obvious examples in his texts. Instead, one of the most engaging aspects of Narnia is its layered approach; it is equal parts children’s story as it is Christian doctrine. I argue that it’s also equal parts simplistic as it is deep and profound. While I am sure that my capacity for understanding only grants me the small fortune of finding these hidden gems periodically, I was recently graced in having my eyes opened to some of Lewis’ more philosophic arguments while reading The Silver Chair. Lewis uses Plato’s concepts on education, Forms, and the allegory of the cave during the course of the entire book, while finally drawing it to a conclusion with the ontological argument in the battle with the Green Witch, thus showing an argument for reality for not only Narnians but for our own faith as well.

A Quick Note

It was actually a friend’s paper that originally drew my attention to the allegory of the cave. This may be slightly off point, but one of my favorite aspects of being able to edit and proofread papers and review books is the knowledge that I am able to capture in those moments. I myself am not taking that class; I myself did not read that book, but I have been able to glean something from someone else’s experience, an experience that I wouldn’t have been able to witness if it just depended on my own physical location. This sharing of knowledge, this communal aspect of learning, is precious to me, and through it, I have been even able to extend it further by writing this post. And what’s more exciting is the design of it. We can never know how the knowledge that we learn and share with others is going to affect another; everything is in motion, even if we are unaware of it. This is partially the reason why it’s difficult for me to turn down requests to edit papers because I always wonder about the opportunity cost. One way or the other, though, I believe that information is going to reach the person it needs to. Perhaps, my friend, me editing my friend’s paper was for you.

Background

Let’s just do a quick background on Plato’s view on education, the Forms, and the allegory of the cave, so as to further see the connection to Lewis’ world and text. After that, I will give a brief definition of the ontological argument. 

Plato and the Forms

Plato wrote “The Allegory of the Cave” in his book Republic in its original Greek. It is a conversation between Glaucon (Plato’s brother) and Socrates (his mentor), with Socrates dictating the scene. On a general level, it is seen as a discussion on how education affects one’s nature. More specifically, and looking within the context of the book that it resides in, the allegory serves as an example for Plato’s concept of the Divided Line, which is discussed earlier in the book. (Kemerling, n.d.)

In Republic, Plato argues that the ideal society is one in which those who have been most educated and contain the most knowledge of the most essential aspects of life are the ones in power. Therefore, it is considerably important for a country or society to raise the question of what is the best avenue for education and raising children, and more specifically, raising the children who show skill in philosophical matters. Plato explains that it is usually poor upbringing or poor education that steals opportunity and potential away from its brightest young ones, thus making it easier for that which is not truly important by philosophical standards, such as fame, wealth, or comfort, to end up being chosen rather than a more difficult but higher calling. Therefore, it was the belief of Plato that education must be had and done well in order for society and its people to flourish. (Kemerling, n.d.)

This calling, or higher goal for education, could be attributed to what Plato calls the “knowledge of the Good.” However, this is not speaking toward simple happiness but an actual meeting with the true Form, the root of Good. If we are talking in Christianity terms, this would be the debate that our enjoyment of good food and good drink does, indeed, create moments of happiness. However, our meeting with God, who created the food and drink, transcends even that mortal happiness, as we can glorify God as Creator through our experiences with his creation. This Form of the Good in which Plato speaks of is the standard, the base, the root by which we engage with and understand that which is around us. Therefore, Plato summarizes that objects, what could be described as a shadow of the Form of Good, are of importance in the way that they join in with the Form of Good but are themselves not the Form of Good.

Likewise, our own understanding of reality comes in portioned degrees as we engage with different objects. In this way, we can see that there is a difference between the objects—the visible realm that we can see, taste, touch, and feel—and the ultimate standard and truth, genuine knowledge, which is found in the invisible realm. Following this train of thought, Plato created the concept of the Divided Line, thus getting closer to our conversation regarding the cave. Considering the separation of the visible and the invisible, Plato’s linear, horizontal line is divided into four distinct categories, which is to represent our entire humanly cognition. (“Plato’s divided line,” n.d.; Kemerling, n.d.)

The four segments are as follows: the lowest level within the visible realm (AB) consists of shadows and reflection; the second level of the visible realm (BC) contains physical objects, which become the underlying support of our belief; the next level (CD) moves into the intelligible realm, away from the visible realm, which hosts simplistic Forms such as mathematics and systematic knowledge; lastly, the most complete level (DE) are the highest Forms, which are Equality, Beauty, Truth, and Good, and they represent a permanency that the visible world can never have. (“Plato’s divided line,” n.d.; Kemerling, n.d.)

(“The Divided Line,” n.d.)

The Allegory of the Cave

With this Divided Line hosting some complexity, Plato then moves on into his example of the allegory of the cave, hoping to shed some more light on the visible and invisible world. The story goes something like this.

Imagine that there is a group of prisoners chained in a cave. They have been there since they were children but not since birth. They are unable to move or look around at their surroundings, they merely stare at one of the cave’s walls, which is in front of them. Unbeknownst to the prisoners, there is an entire scene going on behind them. There is a raised fire in the far back of the cave and a host of people who are carrying objects between the fire and the wall that the prisoners are chained to. The light of the fire creates a reflection of the objects that the people are carrying onto the cave wall that the prisoners see directly in front of them. Those reflections are those prisoners’ reality, as they are the only thing that they can see. Likewise, the people in the background make sounds, but once again, the prisoners see no people; they only see the reflections. Therefore, this brings reality and perceived life to the reflections all the more. The more observant prisoners may engage in pondering about the reflections, but nonetheless, they remain only shadows. This is their perceived understanding, as they are not aware of the truth of the objects, and this scene represents the AC visible realm. (Kemerling, n.d.)

(“An Illustration of the allegory of the cave, from Plato’s Republic,” n.d.)

One day a prisoner breaks free from his chains and is able to take the perilous journey to the outside world. The prisoner is blinded by the sun, and while, at first, he can only stare at the shadows of the outside world, his eyes slowly become more and more able to grasp ahold of the light, and he begins to see things one piece at a time. Eventually, he is able to even look at the sun itself. The prisoner decides to go back to the cave to be able to tell the other prisoners about what he learned, about the truth all around them, and the true reality. He tells him that there is a greater reality to behold. While the shadows speak to the basis of belief, it does not end there; it is merely a small portion of reality in comparison to what exists outside of our senses. 

Surely, they would be intrigued by the words of the escaped prisoner, and the prisoner would make quite a sight due to their stumbling around in the darkness after having gotten accustomed to the light. Socrates in the story narrates that the ideal would be that the prisoners would listen and reflect on the prisoner’s experiences. That they would either simply follow the wise instruction of the free prisoner, or that they themselves would choose to commit themselves to the process of seeing the light. 

This allegory was fully designed to share the truth of human comprehension and reality. Many of us, if not all of us, are living a life within the visible world; we are the ones trapped and chained, educated by shadows. Our minds have been filled with ideas of the inessential or impermanent, and we are mostly untrained when it comes to the seeking of the greater reality of the invisible realm that exists. Likewise, due to this, when philosophers speak to us on these matters, while it would be good to follow their example and attempt to gain knowledge on spiritual disciplines, many of us will simply choose to remain in chains due to our lack of education and our captivation with the visible. (Kemerling, n.d.)

Ontological Argument

Lewis uses not only the allegory of the cave but also the ontological argument in Chapter 12 of The Silver Chair. Encyclopaedia Britannica defines the ontological argument as an “argument that proceeds from the idea of God to the reality of God” (The Editors of Encyclopaedia Britannica, n.d.). The argument was originally founded by St. Anselm and was later expounded on by René Descartes. Here is a brief overlook of Anslem’s argument:

Anselm began with the concept of God as that than which nothing greater can be conceived. To think of such a being as existing only in thought and not also, in reality, involves a contradiction since a being that lacks real existence is not a being than which none greater can be conceived. A yet greater being would be one with the further attribute of existence. Thus the unsurpassably perfect being must exist; otherwise, it would not be unsurpassably perfect. This is among the most discussed and contested arguments in the history of thought. (The Editors of Encyclopaedia Britannica, n.d.)

This concept will come into play in the book at its climax, and therefore, will be brought up then in further detail. With the background all set up, let’s go into our analysis.

Analysis

In The Silver Chair, Eustace and Poll are sent on a mission from Aslan to save Caspian’s only child who was captured, enslaved, and kept underground for 10 years by a murderous Witch. I will defend that the entirety of The Silver Chair is an argument for the existence of the visible and the invisible realm, it speaks to our infatuation of the visible realm at our own risk, and it concludes with the invisible world reigning as the higher realm in the final scene of the Witch. Lewis specifically does this through the use of Plato’s beliefs on education, Forms, the Divided Line, the allegory of the cave, and Anselm’s ontological argument.

Poll, Eustace, and the Visible World

Poll can be seen as one who, at least in the beginning, is consistently thinking about what is right in front of her. This is not a criticism or a slight against her character, it is simply a fact in relation to Plato’s revelation regarding the two realms. At the very beginning, as she is hiding from her bullying pursuers, we see Poll fully overwhelmed with her current condition. Unsure of what to do, she cries behind the school until Eustace comes to her. While her situation would certainly warrant tears, and while tears in and of themselves are not lowly or base in any form, this example is just showing that all we hear from the narration regarding Poll is that she is lost in her current situation. She is not rationalizing it, putting it up to a higher power, or trying to understand what her next step should be; she is just fully sitting in her frustration and discomfort at that moment, which, while understandable, may be the first example of how she perceives the world around her. 

Likewise, when Aslan gives her signs to remember, which they would need in order to complete their quest, Poll finds it difficult to engage in teaching herself the information as Aslan taught her to do. After receiving the signs, Poll quickly states that she understands and wishes to carry on her way, Aslan speaks and says: “‘Child, … perhaps you do not see quite as well as you think. But the first step is to remember. Repeat to me, in order, the four signs” (Lewis, 1950, p. 559). Throughout the story, it could be seen that Aslan is taking the role of the teacher, and this scene could be representing the importance of education that Plato argued. Likewise, it shows that Poll does not necessarily have the disciplines in place yet to fully understand and fully grasp the learning. Aslan teaches her by having her repeat them several times until he is sure she understands, but Poll finds it difficult to remember as the story carries on. 

Aslan continues tutoring her, saying, “… And the signs which you have learned here will not look at all as you expect them to look when you meet them there. That is why it is so important to know them by heart and pay no attention to appearances. Remember the signs and believe the signs. Nothing else matters” (Lewis, 1950, p. 560). This could be Lewis’ way of explaining to Poll that that which is invisible may take on different forms within the visible, and therefore, it’s important to not pay too close attention to what is right in front of her, but rather, to look and observe deeply its root. And that which is going to guide her is the education of that invisible realm that she received in a small dose with Aslan.

Poll quickly becomes preoccupied with her physical surroundings, though. This could certainly be seen when they first meet the Witch, and she gives them the temptation of comfort at the cost of disobeying Aslan, thus potentially causing them to take a longer, more dangerous, and more difficult path to the final goal. The book states:

In the second place, whatever the Lady had intended by telling them about Harfang, the actual effect on the children was a bad one. They could think about nothing but beds and baths and hot meals and how lovely it would be to get indoors. They never talked about Aslan, or even about the lost Prince, now. And Jill gave up her habit of repeating the signs over to herself every night and morning. She said to herself, at first, that she was too tired, but she soon forgot all about it. And though you might have expected that the idea of having a good time at Harfang would have made them more cheerful, it really made them more sorry for themselves and more grumpy and snappy with each other and with Puddleglum. (Lewis, 1950, p. 591)

In this situation, it was not only Poll but Eustace, too, who was enraptured by the Lady, the Green Witch. While Eustace, who has more experience with Aslan, is able to remember their quest slightly better than Poll, he too gets lost in his visible, physical space. 

On the journey, as well, both of them miss another sign due to their captivation of the thought of physical comfort:

… Jill had glimpses of other odd things on that horrible tableland—things on her right that looked vaguely like factory chimneys, and, on her left, a huge cliff, straighter than any cliff ought to be. But she wasn’t at all interested and didn’t give them a thought. The only thing she thought about were her cold hands (and nose and chin and ears) and hot baths and beds at Harfang. (Lewis, 1950, p. 595)

Once again, Eustace and Jill’s preoccupation with their physical environments and desire for comfort pulled them away from the ability to be able to see the invisible, to see the sign that those chimneys were in fact what they were looking for. Just like how Plato explained that a lack of an education or an improper education will take away the potential to see the true nature of things, Jill’s lack of discipline in repeating the signs took the chance away from them for finding the truth. Likewise, who is to say that the half-comfort that they were preoccupied with—which turns out to be far more dangerous than they realized—would not have been found in a more complete and intended way if the signs had been followed as Aslan had designed?

Jill does recognize that she had been in the wrong for not repeating the signs, and she does extend her best effort to get them out of their present danger and carry on through the journey. She, along with the other two, are able to hear and recognize the final sign, thus opening the book up to the conclusive battle with the Witch, and it is Jill who is able to say Aslan’s name in the face of the Witch, thus bringing about the end of their battle. 

On a thought, it could also potentially be suggested that what Poll is meaning by asking Aslan to return her home at the very end of the book is to 1) return to the cave so as to teach others or, possibly, 2) return to the cave and return to the land of the visible. Considering I relate a great deal to Poll and her struggles, I would like to imagine that it is option 2, as it would express change and growth, but option 1 would be just as understandable.

Puddleglum and the Invisible World

While Poll (and often times Eustace) was wrapped up in the visible world, their counterpart, Puddleglum, served as the philosopher. He is an example of one who has been educated in the higher things, who is occupied more with the essential aspects of life rather than the nonessential, and a commitment to that which is invisible. Of course, for this book, this is referring to his obedience to Narnia and Aslan. 

Puddleglum is consistently moody and a pessimist, and yet he shows probably the strongest faith in the entire book. It might even be said that he is the Reepicheep of The Silver Chair. When the children and the Marsh-wiggle first meet the Green Lady, instead of being enamored with her, he was able to sense that there was something more afoot. In the book, he says, “‘Well… I’d give a good deal to know where she’s coming from and where she’s going. Not the sort you expect to meet in the wilds of Giantland, is she? Up to no good, I’d be bound” (Lewis, 1950, p. 590). While Eustace and Poll try to argue with him, Puddleglum remains unimpressed. The children chalk up his huffing to his namesake of glumness. And yet, it is shown that Puddleglum was the one to actually question the Lady and her Black Knight, who turns out to be the very prince that they are looking for.  

Likewise, the Marsh-wiggle is the one who constantly reminds Jill of the signs. Through this, one could possibly suggest that that the Marsh-wiggle is attempting to continue the teaching that Aslan started at the beginning of the book, although Poll is thoroughly distressed with the reminder that Puddleglum’s presence and questions bring considering she had not been diligent in repeating the signs or keeping watch for them as Aslan had told her. 

When they are in the midst of the storm, looking for the ruined city, one of the signs, it is Puddleglum who tries to slow down their tracks and get them to see the invisible. Eustace and Jill, however, quickly plow over the suggestion, just wanting to get to Harfang as quickly as possible, so as to receive a bed and a warm bath. Here is the conversation:

“Oh, that was next, was it?” said Puddleglum. “Now I wonder, are you right? Got ‘em mixed, I shouldn’t wonder. It seems to me, this hill, this flat place we’re on, is worth stopping to have a look at. Have you noticed—“

“Oh, Lor!” said Scrubb. “Is this a time for stopping to admire the view? For goodness’ sake let’s get on.” (p. 596)

While Jill and Eustace’s desire for comfort and shelter is perfectly understandable and even rational, it is due to their dismissal of the invisible for the visible that leads them further away from the signs of Aslan and deeper into the danger that awaits for them in Harfang. Puddleglum alone sees this, saying, “‘We’ve done the silliest thing in the world by coming at all; but now that we are here, we’d best put a bold face on it’” (Lewis, 1950, p. 596). Later on, once the children escape the dangers of Harfang and realize how they had been deceived by their own bellies, Puddleglum mentions that it was likely that that was the plan of the Lady all along. Furthermore, after having missed the sign, he raises the question that they are all thinking while adding in some painful truth:

“That’s the question,” said Puddleglum, rubbing his big, frog-like hands together. “How can we now? No doubt, if we’d had our minds on our job when we were at the Ruinous City, we’d have been shown how—found a little door, or a cave, or a tunnel, met someone to help us. Might have been (you never know) Aslan himself. We’d have got down under those paving-stones somehow or other. Aslan’s instructions always work: there are no exceptions. But how to do it now—that’s another matter.” (Lewis, 1950, pp. 604-605)

Puddleglum remains the one who keeps Aslan’s signs and Aslan himself at the forefront of his mind, constantly recalculating and readjusting his plan and path but always with his arrow pointing back to Aslan. When they journey down into the Underland, his steadfastness would be needed all the more.

Underland and Overland 

As a part of Aslan’s signs, the crew goes under the hill. There, they find an entire civilization kept in darkness. It is learned that the Green Witch has stolen Underland’s inhabitants from their homes and has kept them all under an enchantment. Amidst that dark and shadowed land, they come across Prince Rilian at last, their journey’s ending finding its beginning. This land of darkness is like the darkness of the visible world, only consisting of shadows and reflections, just like we find in the allegory of the cave. There is no natural light present, and therefore, nothing existing to shed light or bring truth to the circumstances of the people. This very world made in the imagination of Lewis could be seen as a depiction of the visible realm, and with its counterpart, Overland, above it, one can see Plato’s belief in the separation between the two realms. 

While in this darkness, it is difficult for anyone to remember the light of the sun and the freshness of the wind, as the heaviness of the enchantment seeks to keep them trapped underground. Overland remains above them, with the true form of the sun and light, but the Witch’s rule over the Underground twists their present visible reality. Aslan, however, remains on the lips of Puddleglum as he reasons with the enchanted prince regarding the reason why they came, taking on the role of teacher and philosopher here as well. He remains committed to the invisible realm, even while journeying in the darkness.

The Last Scene of the Witch

While much of what happened throughout the book can be seen as portraying Plato’s view on education, on the Forms, the separation of visible and invisible realms, as well as moments when the allegory of the cave come into play, it is the final reveal of the Prince’s true form and the final battle that shows the deepest connection. Likewise, the ontological argument is seen in the battle’s last phase. Prince Rilian, and all of Underland, are like the prisoners chained to the wall. Their reality is simply what they can see. The shadows, darkness, and reflections are all that they know and understand, which is just like the first segment found in the divided line. Prince Rilian is quite literally chained to the silver chair in order to keep him from being freed from this current reality.

The Witch challenges their reality, enchanting them with lies that what is visible is the only thing that is actually real. When they try to describe Overland, she simply convinces them that Overland does not exist, as if it’s just a fanciful thought. She tries to convince them that this world, her world, is the only one. Puddleglum, however, fights her power:

“I don’t know what you all mean by a world,” he said, talking like a man who hasn’t enough air. “But you can play that fiddle till your fingers drop off, and still you won’t make me forget Narnia; and the whole Overworld too. We’ll never see it again, I shouldn’t wonder. You may have blotted it out and turned it dark like this, for all I know. Nothing more likely. But I know I was there once. I’ve seen the sky full of stars. I’ve seen the sun coming up out of the sea of a morning and sinking behind the mountains at night. And I’ve seen him up in the midday sky when I couldn’t look at him for brightness. (Lewis, 1950, p. 631)

The Marsh-wiggle, like the escaped prisoner, reminds them of their experience with the sun. He reminds them of the true Forms. He even describes moments, like the escaped prisoner, of being unable to look at the sun. However, the Witch plays her game once more, asking them to describe their sun. Even Puddleglum struggles with the description, likening it to an object like a lamp, in order to build belief off of this second segment of the divided line. The Witch, however, does not let them continue on this track, and seeks to continue her spell, drawing their attention to their current reality:  

“You see? When you try to think out clearly what this sun must be, you cannot tell me. You can only tell me it is like the lamp. Your sun is a dream; and there is nothing in that dream that was not copied from the lamp. The lamp is the real thing; the sun is but a tale, a children’s story.” (p. 631) 

In a matter of great redemption, it is Poll who is able to finally extend past the sun to the greatest invisible Form. Perhaps, in Plato’s terms, we should call it Good. In Narnian terms, it was the name of Aslan that she spoke. As a Christian, my mouth whispers, “Jesus.” 

The Witch does not give up, though. She continues:

“I see… that we should do no better with your lion, as you call it, than we did with your sun. You have seen lamps, and so you imagined a bigger and better lamp and called it the sun. You’ve seen cats, and now you want a bigger and better cat, and it’s to be called a lion. Well, ’tis a pretty make-believe, though, it say truth, it would suit you all better if you were younger. And look how you can put nothing into your make-believe without copying it from the real world of mine, which is the only world. But even you children are too old for such play… There is no Narnia, no Overworld. No sky, no sun, no Aslan. And now, to bed all. And let us begin a wiser life tomorrow. But first, to bed; to sleep; deep sleep, soft pillows. Sleep without foolish dreams.” (Lewis, 1950, p. 632)

The enchantress argues with them once more, demanding them to look at what is around them instead of believing in invisible things, calling them dreams and foolish. She entices them with thoughts of physical comfort and rest. 

The prisoners in the allegory of the cave only could see the reflections of objects that were being reflected from the light of the fire behind them. Their entire world, their entire reality, was those shadows. An idea that there could be something more than that would likely not have crossed their minds if they had not been educated by the escaped prisoner. It’s a likelihood that even the prisoners might have argued in this same way as the Witch to their returned friend, calling him foolish for believing such things, especially when looking at what was right in front of them. The wiser ones, in what Plato would call the “ideal situation,” would listen to the experience and teaching of the philosopher and allow them to lead them into learning about the invisible world. In the situation of The Silver Chair, the Witch is showing how dangerous it would be for her world if that was allowed to happen. She would be unable to manipulate and twist, unable to wreak war, and unable to have control over the people that she had long enslaved. Essentially, the Queen of Darkness would be powerless to those who had an understanding of the invisible and an understanding of the most essential things. In Christianity, we could say that Satan is powerless when we are not solely focused on our emotions and present condition but, instead, look past that in hope to God and His promises. 

At that moment, at its climax, it is Puddleglum the philosopher who fires off an ontological argument for the existence of Aslan. He listens to the Witch’s reductionistic approach that revolves around an explanation of knowing, and instead, redirects the conversation into an explanation of being. In other words, he attempts to focus on how he knows that Aslan exists rather than arguing whether he does or does not. A very simplified version of Anselm’s argument is that God is unsurpassably perfect in both thought and reality. And that which is surpassable in either of those categories cannot be God. This finally brings us to Puddleglum’s final stance. He states that it is highly unlikely that four children created Narnia and Aslan, which is far more rooted in truth and reality than what is currently in front of them. In other words, their “dream world” surpasses the Witch’s world in truth, therefore, it makes more sense that their “dream world” is actually their reality. Thus, they are justified in their belief of Narnia because of the unlikeliness that they could have made it up. So, as with their experience with Aslan, they can reason that Aslan certainly came before the cat, and they are justified in their belief of Aslan because they can reason that it was either Aslan who created everything, or it was nothing, and nothing as the genesis of everything does not serve a workable option. (Williams, 2016) 

The group as a whole refutes the Witch’s rationale due to their own experiences with Aslan and due to their reasonings that “contain not a mere abstract definition, but a real imaginative perception of goodness and beauty, beyond their own resources” (2004), as Lewis states. In other words, as they have experienced Aslan, and as they have known that creating the unsurpassable Aslan would be against their mental capabilities, they have reached their ultimate conclusion. Puddleglum is able to break them free from the spell, and the Witch is killed. All of Underworld is freed from the enchantment of the Witch.

Conclusion

As is the case for all of the books in Narnia, The Silver Chair can be read as just a straightforward adventure and fairytale. But at the same time, there are deep truths that exist between the lines. Plato, the Forms, his view on education, the allegory of the cave, and the ontological argument are just a few philosophical rationales that Lewis uses to not only teach us how to think rationally but to be able to reasonably recognize that Aslan is, in fact, a fictional representation of Jesus. Philosophy does not allow one to rest on belief alone; it demands a reason for “why” one believes such. Reading this book and doing the research for this paper, I recognized that I had a lack of understanding of my own belief. While a childlike faith is beautiful, it should not rest there as we mature in our walk with Christ. Or, if you are not a Christian, philosophy and reality do not give you a pass to not think rationally and reasonably about why you believe what you do either. We are all meant to think. We are all meant to ask questions and, especially, ask ourselves questions about our beliefs and actions. Simply allowing ourselves to live without thought—Plato might say to live without education—is one of the easiest ways to take the longest road to a place that you never intended to be in the first place. 

If you are a Christian, and you relate to Poll and Eustace, just like myself, Lewis provides for you a challenge to go deeper and further still with your relationship with Christ and your understanding of your belief. If you are not a Christian, he provides you the chance to look past the visible and seek the invisible, to ask yourself the question of what is truly essential, and to ask others who are authoritative and wise for guidance. Poll and Eustace are not bad people for not being able to see the invisible. I relate so strongly to both of them, and I am constantly in that place myself. However, I always wonder how often my own foolishness causes me to be pulled away from the Good that God had in store for me at that moment that I chose my visible reality rather than clinging to my experience with the invisible God. That’s not to say that God’s ultimate will is null and void in my stupidity; of course not. But, for the hedonist inside of me that wants every ounce of good and beauty and truth and love that is capable for me, I sure make it hard for myself through my pursuit of unessential things. Consider this book to be another wake-up call for me. I hope that you were able to receive something in the process as well.

References

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