 |
| Sherwood Wirt |
The interview was first published in the September and October, 1963, issues of Decision magazine. It has been reprinted in God in the Dock.
The following is the second part of an edited transcript of Dr. Wirt's remarks to the Society.
QUESTION: Didn't Lewis believe that people come to Jesus in different ways?
DR. WIRT: He told me that God has a habit of bringing people into the Kingdom in ways he especially disliked. So he said he had to be careful. That has helped me many times when I have tended to criticize some of the hotshots.
QUESTION: What did you first read by Lewis?
DR. WIRT: I think The Great Divorce was the first book I read, when I was in seminary. I was very much intrigued by it. Also, his Broadcast Talks. I remember how he irritated Arthur Koestler because he was making Christianity credible. Nobody else was doing it. It was a great source of irritation to some people. He was on the intellectual scene and able to deal with these people.
QUESTION: What did you think of Lewis's account of his conversion in Surprised by Joy?
DR. WIRT: Kicking and struggling and eyes darting in every direction. I thought it was beautiful. In fact I asked him about that because our emphasis is on choice, and it seemed that he wasn't saying that. He said, "I was decided upon." Yet, he didn't compromise it when he said that the most controlled action is also the freest, which is a paradox. He did allow the fact that there was some choice in choosing the Christian life. But his main, essential point was that this was God's doing and not his. And I'm all for that.
QUESTION: You said that when the interview got started Lewis turned very sober, and yet there is much humor in some of his answers. Did he see it as humorous when he said it?
DR. WIRT: Oh, yes. There was a twinkle in his eye. I asked him specifically why he wrote in a light vein. He said that he chose this deliberately rather than the heavy approach because he felt that this was the kind of writing that appealed to readers the most. I didn't mean to say that he was sober all the way through. He had some nice interchanges, but he was businesslike. He wasn't there to waste his time.
I read that he had a tremendous correspondence, all of which he kept up by hand. People would write him from all over the world. He had nobody there to help. He had no typewriter, no tape recordings. I don't think he had a telephone there. It was just so barren and English, you couldn't believe it. His housekeeper was very stern, no nonsense. Everything in that place was. Well, we walked through this one room into the other room and came out to the sitting room for tutorials where he would sit and talk to his students. Back in there where he would do writing was just the barest of furniture. There was this old clock, and as I recall, no heat in the room--no electric coil or anything like that. You would just put on another sweater.
QUESTION: Was he still teaching at Cambridge at that time?
DR. WIRT: Well, he was still there. They wanted him. I don't know if he was actively teaching at that time. He was still in his "digs." Now, he was at Oxford for many years, and then he made the change over to Cambridge. Cambridge made a big thing out of this. And he had settled there for life. He did retire, I think, from active teaching. I don't know what his relationship to the University was at that time.
QUESTION: Did he answer more than you asked for?
DR. WIRT: On the contrary, he gave you exactly what you asked for, and that's what scared me. For example, President Eisenhower was a Kansas farmer, and he would keep rambling, and you would have to bring him back to the point. But not this man.
QUESTION: Did Lewis consider himself an Anglican?
DR. WIRT: Lewis considered himself a layman in the Anglican Church. He wasn't as disgusted with the clergy as Muggeridge is. Muggeridge is absolutely fed up with the clergy because he thinks they are the most naive and gullible people in the world. But not Lewis. I think he said somewhere that he didn't like to sing hymns. I can see that, because he's just not the hilarious, booming type at all. I think that he had a layman's sincere respect for the clergy and for the church.
One thing I was going to tell you. I mentioned his smoking. I got the feeling that he was trying to kill himself--that after his wife died there was no more real zest for living. It was the smoking that brought on the heart attack. Honestly, I never saw anybody smoke so rough. He smoked continuously for an hour and a half. So, I just got the feeling that he was turning himself into a chimney. I felt sorry for him. I used to smoke, and I know what heavy smoking can do to you. I knew in my heart that he couldn't last at that rate. I didn't expect it to happen quite so suddenly, only two months after I visited him. But I knew this man couldn't last, because he was 65 or so. I attributed it right at the time to the fact that I knew his wife had died. I knew that he was very much in love with her, and this was the great love of his life. He had waited 56 years and had 4 years with her, much of it spent in pain. I think maybe he felt cheated. Of course, what he felt comes out in A Grief Observed. It's remarkable to read. (COMMENT: At one time he wanted to quit smoking, but he said it was a full time job.) I suppose he would have liked to quit because he knew that was the way to health. But my point was that at the time I talked to him he didn't care. He was just living marking time.
QUESTION: Was he working on anything at that time?
DR. WIRT: I didn't ask him--yes I did. He was working on Letters to Malcolm.
QUESTION: Some people have seen a change in his writing after his wife died and have suggested that he might have lost his faith. Do you think the change in tone they detect is due to this weariness with life you mention?
DR. WIRT: Oh no, he never lost his faith. That is a very superficial accusation. He was still going to church, and he was still conducting services as a lay reader, fulfilling the various functions as he was invited to. But I think it was more of an inner, unconscious thing of not expecting much of life. He'd had his great love, and now that chapter was closed. He didn't expect anything more, and so it was just a case of how the rest of his life was spent. He died in the faith.
(The written content in this post is copyright of the Sherwood Wirt Estate and The Portland C. S. Lewis Society. The photo is copyright of the Sherwood Wirt Estate.)
