Walking with C.S. Lewis

He always took the early, slow train from Oxford, so he could say his prayers and enjoy the scenery before he arrived at the tiny station at the foot of the Malvern Hills.

C.S. Lewis rarely tinkered with the details of these trips, since the goal was always the same – to walk and talk with friends. He wore a rumpled tweed jacket with the obligatory leather elbow patches, baggy wool pants, walking shoes and an old hat. He had a battered rucksack and he never carried a watch.

His host was George Sayer, his former pupil at Magdalen College and a close friend for three decades. They usually walked the 10-mile Malvern ridge, with its lovely views of the distant Welsh hills, the Severn valley and the Cotswolds. But sometimes they strayed elsewhere, joined by other colleagues.

"Beauty was so important to Jack and so was good conversation," said Sayer, using the nickname Lewis preferred. "What could be better than putting the two together? One could not have found a better walking companion."

Sayer gazed out the sunny garden window in his sitting room, which served as the starting point for their travels. Then he laughed out loud.

"You should have seen Jack trying to walk with J.R.R. Tolkien! Once Jack got started a bomb could not have stopped him and the more he walked, the more energy he had for a good argument," said Sayer. "Now Tolkien was just the opposite. If he had something to say, he wanted you to stop so he could look you in the face. So on they would go, Jack charging ahead and Tolkien pulling at him, trying to get him to stop - back and forth, back and forth. What a scene!"

That was long ago. It has been nearly a quarter of a century since Sayer led Malvern College's English department and a decade since he wrote "Jack: C.S. Lewis and His Times." This year, fragile health prevented Sayer from fully participating in events marking the centenary of Lewis' birth on Nov. 29, 1898. Lewis died on Nov. 22, 1963, the same day as President John F. Kennedy.

It's hard to say why Lewis remains such a dominant figure, said Sayer. The former atheist did have a unique ability to handle tough questions in a way that was both intellectual and popular. Lewis also wrote many different kinds of books - from children's literature to apologetics, from science fiction to literary criticism. Readers start reading one form of his writings, such as "The Chronicles of Narnia" fantasies, and then graduate to another, such as the more philosophical "The Problem of Pain." Many have been drawn to his work through two movies called "Shadowlands," based on the story of the Oxford don's marriage to American poet Joy Davidman.

Much of this "would have infuriated Jack because he rejected all attempts to analyze writers by dwelling on their personal lives," said Sayer. "He called this the 'personal heresy.' It is very ironic that so many people have such an astonishing attachment to C.S. Lewis as a person, or to the person that they perceive him to have been."

This trend began during the writer's lifetime. Lewis was, of course, thankful that millions embraced his work. But Sayer said he grew frustrated that so many readers - especially Americans - hailed him as a celebrity, yet failed to dig deeper into the issues that most challenged him.

Lewis would probably be distressed, said Sayer, to discover that the books that made him an effective apologist in the 1940s and '50s are so popular decades later. He would ask why mainline Catholics and Protestants writers now attack Christian orthodoxy, rather than defend it. Lewis would ask why so many evangelicals keep writing books for the people already in pews, instead of focusing on those outside the church.

"Jack was a highly intellectual man, yet he was also very emotional," said Sayer. "The man I knew was highly persuasive, quite comical and very entertaining. Above all, he loved a good argument and he rarely passed up a chance to jump into the thick of things. He would want his admirers to take his work and push on, not to stay in the same place."

Veggie sales, Veggie sales

It didn't take long for Phil Vischer to create the following prime directive for his computer-animation studio: "We will not portray Jesus as a vegetable."

The folks at Big Idea Productions will do just about anything for a laugh when creating their VeggieTales versions of Bible stories. But Vischer is committed to keeping a safety zone between the sacred and the hip, even while Bob the Tomato, Larry the Cucumber and friends storm the kid-video castles of Disney, Viacom, Newscorp and Time Warner Inc.

"There's a biblical core to the stories we tell and people have to know that will always be there," said Vischer. "So the major plot points are sacred, but we get to have fun with the details. People have to understand that we're not competing with Sunday school. We're competing with Saturday morning television. We're in a different ball game."

So the Bible remains the Bible. But Joshua is a cucumber in a robe and green peas carry the Ark of the Covenant around Jericho while grape slushees rain down from the walls. A tiny asparagus named Dave spins a slingshot around his head and slays Goliath the pickle. Shadrach, Meshach and Abednego survive the fiery furnace of a candy czar who wants them to worship a towering chocolate bunny. Virtual vegetables prance through music videos that are as bizarre as the regular music videos they are mocking.

The result is a phenomenon that has Christian bookstore owners dividing life into two eras - "B.V." and "A.V." Big Idea Productions has sold 6 million half-hour videos, with 4 million units shipping in 1998 - the first year of a distribution pact with Lyrick Studios that put VeggieTales in WalMart, Target and other secular outlets. An 11th video release, "Silly Songs 2: The End of Silliness?", goes on sale this weekend.

Meanwhile, Vischer is taking calls from movie studios and cable bosses. The Veggies make their TV debut on Dec. 19 in a primetime PaxTV special built around the company's "The Toy that Saved Christmas" video.

It was back in 1991 that Vischer got tired of making Pop Tarts dance, beer bottles spin and graphics sparkle for corporate clients in Chicago. Using funds from family and friends, the Bible-college reject began creating vegetables that told Bible stories, after deciding that candy bars might worry parents. Either way, it was cheaper to animate figures with no limbs. Today, Big Idea has about 70 employees, but Vischer said he isn't sure about that number since he keeps running into new people in the hallways.

Some major VeggieTales influences are obvious, such as Dr. Seuss and Monty Python. Some are less obvious, such as communications theorist Neil Postman's classic "The Disappearance of Childhood" and the work of media entrepreneur Bob Briner, who chides modern Christians for abandoning work in art and culture.

While it would be hard to push a creed in a for-profit company, Big Idea isn't ashamed of its big ideas. Its mission statement includes a list of blunt "we believe" statements, such as: "Popular media, used irresponsibly, have had a profoundly negative impact on America's moral and spiritual health." Company goals include enhancing "the moral and spiritual fabric of our society" and leading "a revolution reintroducing Christian values into popular media."

Vischer doesn't hide the fact that he wants to create a recognizable, quality brand name with clout – like Nike, Starbucks, "Touched By An Angel" and, yes, Disney. But this takes time. Most attempts to promote faith in the marketplace have taken a one-shot, zap-them-with-the-Gospel approach.

"It's like, 'Bonk!' We hit people in the head with a Christian brick and, when it bounces off, we can't understand why it didn't work," he said. "Of course, we also used up all our money making that one brick and we can't buy anymore air time or tell anymore stories because we haven't created a real company that makes money so that we can stay in the game for the long haul. So we throw our brick and quit.

"What we want is for people to fall in love with our characters and grow up with them. We want to have a lasting impact."

Slavery, faith & the marketplace

Two years ago, Christians were sold as slaves for as little as $15 in Southern Sudan.

This statement is no longer accurate, but not because the Khartoum regime has stopped trying to bomb, massacre, starve, rape, torture and kidnap Christians, animists and even other Muslims into submission. No, fluctuations in currency rates have simply raised the price to $50 or $75.

"When we go in to buy people's freedom, we budget $100 per slave to pay for the whole operation, which includes transportation into places where the regime doesn't want us to go," said Jesse Sage of the Boston-based American Anti-Slavery Group. "But here's the most sobering reality: you can still trade one human being for three cows, or the other way around."

All of this is taking place far from most pews and news cameras. Thus, two years ago, an interfaith coalition organized the first International Day of Prayer for the Persecuted Church. This Sunday, worshippers in about 100,000 churches - from Southern Baptists to Catholics, from Pentecostals to the Orthodox - will pray for those who are living and dying as martyrs.

These prayers are one expression of a wider movement against all religious persecution, which led to the recent passage of the International Religious Freedom Act. President Clinton signed the bill into law on Oct. 27.

In the words of former New York Times editor A.M. Rosenthal, the term "persecution" means: "Blood, fetters, death, wherever, and to whatever religious minorities – in the Iran of the ayatollahs, in the China of the Communist Politburo where Catholics and Protestants who wish to worship as their faith dictates have to risk their freedom and worship underground, in Pakistan where Christians by the scores have been imprisoned for 'blasphemy' against Islam, in Tibet where pictures of the Dalai Lama are displayed only on pain of prison, or in the Sudan where Christians and members of ancient African faiths are massacred by the Islamist Government."

The act creates a Commission on International Religious Freedom – with three members appointed by the president, two by the Speaker of the House, two by the Senate majority leader and one each by the House and Senate minority leaders. It will have its own budget, the power to "take testimony and receive evidence" and must publicly release at least one annual report of its findings. The White House and what Rosenthal has called the "trade-uber-alles lobbies" fiercely opposed the bill and defeated efforts to impose economic sanctions.

"Protectors of the status quo have been able to keep the facts buried," said Jewish activist Michael Horowitz of the Hudson Institute. "They've been able to cast doubt on whether religious persecution is real. We won that battle, because this new commission can put facts on the record. What we weren't able to do was get the same kind of sanctions and policies focused on thug regimes – like Sudan – that were aimed at the apartheid regime in South Africa."

Prayers and facts will remain the primary weapons in the fight against persecution. However, many religious schools have begun collecting funds, literally, to purchase the freedom of slaves. This past weekend, about 250 students from 60 colleges gathered at Georgetown University for a conference organized by Freedom House's Center for Religious Freedom.

The keynote speaker was Baroness Caroline Cox, a British nurse who now serves as deputy speaker in the House of Lords. She has led numerous teams of doctors and journalists into Southern Sudan. She recently interviewed a Catholic leader who survived a raid on the village of Mayen Abun. Many where slaughtered, including his brother, and his sister was one of those taken as a slave. Santino Ring's words were haunting: "We're trying to hold a frontline of Christianity here, but we feel completely forgotten. Doesn't the church want us anymore?"

"That's what our persecuted brothers and sisters feel," said Cox. "They have no evidence the church wants them at all. All of us who've worked with the persecuted church come back humbled, inspired, enriched, beyond anything we can describe. If the day comes that they become martyrs, we must celebrate their martyrdom. But we must make sure it's not in vain, because that martyrdom is for our faith."

Tuning in signals from Hollywood Heaven

It's another day at the mall multiplex, where hip witches are looking for love, Oprah's fighting her demons, free will and sin are invading a suburban utopia and vampires are being born again, more or less.

Moviegoers also have the option right now of going to heaven and hell with superstar Robin Williams in "What Dreams May Come." The big news in this latest "Hollywood Heaven" opus is that some gatekeepers in America's dream factory are trying to take eternity seriously – perhaps more seriously than most conventional religious leaders.

"This movie wasn't nearly as bad as I thought it would be. In even contains some hopeful signs for those who believe heaven and hell are real," said Boston College philosopher Peter Kreeft, author of 30-plus books including "Heaven, the Heart's Deepest Longing." In terms of America's growing fascination with spirituality, he added, it's clear that "people are asking some of the right questions, right now. They are spiritually hungry, even if they are choosing to eat poisonous food."

As was the case with "Ghost" and numerous other modern movies in this genre, Kreeft said that "What Dreams May Come" appears to be "essentially a Buddhist or Hindu movie" created for audiences that remain comfortable with Judeo-Christian images. After death, the characters learn that there are no rules that govern eternity, reincarnation is a viable option and that reality is a simple matter of perception. "What's true in our minds is true, whether people know it or not," explains one heavenly teacher.

Early on, Williams' Everyman character asks an angelic figure what role God plays in this dreamlike heaven. "He's up there somewhere, shouting down that He loves us," says the spirit.

An ad for a Los Angeles seminar on "Metaphysical Filmmaking," led by producer Stephen Simon, sums of his goals: "As we approach the new millennium, film is the natural medium for the expression of transformational consciousness. Metaphysical films can illuminate new landscapes, chart new maps and model new paradigms for relating to life." The result is part Dante's "Inferno," part Star Trek, served up with waves of special effects and pop psychology.

But it would be wrong to dismiss this as mere New Age propaganda, stressed Kreeft, who is a very traditional Roman Catholic. The movie focuses on a crucial subject - eternal life - which churches have all but ignored for at least a generation. And while the doctrine is unorthodox, it contains images of heaven and hell that are almost shockingly traditional.

"This movie was gorgeous and fascinating to look at, but there was more to it than that," he said. "This wasn't a kind of minimalist kind of beauty. It was opulent. It was an old- fashioned, natural kind of beauty. That's important. We need to be able to say that heaven is beautiful."

In addition to affirming the existence of heaven and hell, the movie shows that decisions in this life impact the life to come. It teaches that people must not lose faith and to let fear dominate their lives. It stresses the need for courage, forgiveness and gratitude.

Above all, "What Dreams May Come" takes love seriously. This is, conceded Kreeft, human love, instead of divine love. But at least the human love depicted in this movie is noble and beautiful. Many critics have savaged the movie because its depiction of marital love is based more on idealism than sexual passion.

"This movie did get human love right," said Kreeft. "It showed love as charity and self-sacrifice. It praises faithfulness ... and this love even includes children. There's an intact family, for once, and we see many beautiful scenes showing the love in this family. That's positive."

There are even scenes of repentance. But everyone repents to each other – not to God.

"They do repent to somebody, which is a start," said Kreeft. "That's better than, 'Love means never having to say you're sorry.' ... What the movie didn't say, of course, was that God counts and that God judges. It didn't say that one finds true joy by conforming to God's reality. ... In a way, the movie was simply too spiritual. It didn't take reality seriously enough."