Of imaginary conversations I’d like to see, pairing up American philosopher Joseph Campbell with C.S. Lewis is high on my list. While the academics were contemporaries in similar fields, both devoted to their love of myth, they nonetheless never interacted directly with one another.

Sitting across from Campbell, I imagine a wryly smiling Jack smoking his pipe (Lewis was also quite fond of cigarettes, but the visual is somehow less inspiring). Campbell, not a religious believer, cocks an eye at Lewis’ previous statement:

“…The myth that became fact, you say? Are you suggesting that myths were teleological in nature all along, and that their telos—was Christ?”

“The One True Myth,” Lewis replies between puffs, “as a good friend once put Him to me. That’s who Christ is, Joseph: the fulfillment of the universal longing for a reconciliation between the human and the divine, and the purpose for every story reaching toward that end. He has been your ‘Hero’ all along.” 

“So, in your view, all the myths were just rehearsals?”

“The other 999 played the part nobly, my good man. But there is a True Hero, and he has but one face.”

For as much as I’d relish peeping in on their imaginary dialogue, I did have the very real pleasure of chatting with a room of folks on the topic of hero stories, Jesus, and why it all matters to everyday life (there’s an episode of Weaker Brother Sessions on the same subject matter). Our conversation gave rise to observations that begged to be shared here.

An “Inmost Cave” in Space

The narrative cycle helpfully popularized by Joseph Campbell as “the hero’s journey” is characterized by several archetypal stages. The most profound transformation is uniquely associated with the greatest trial, or lowest point, of a hero’s quest: a stage Campbell called “the inmost cave.” 

This metaphorical experience frequently involves a literal cave within the story: the hero must enter a subterranean darkness to ultimately acquire an otherworldly light. In a dramatic confrontation, the hero will emerge victorious and enlightened.

C.S. Lewis was no mere initiate in the mythcraft Campbell described; transformative cave motifs abound in Jack’s work. The second book of Lewis’ Space Trilogy, Perelandra, provides us one example.

Under the undulating amber landscape of the planet Venus, the series’ hero, Ransom, meets his “inmost cave” experience. Facing the planet’s only other human occupant, Ransom locks himself in mortal combat with Weston, a scientist possessed by a demon. Common to the “inmost cave” stage is a confrontation with a “shadow self,” and—while that is a psychological concept about which I won’t feign a proper understanding—it’s intriguing, anyway, to see how Weston darkly mirrors Ransom. Having willed to trade the virgin planet’s purity for a lucifer-like mastery, Weston, “the Un-man,” is the superlatively warped reflection of the gentle philologist Ransom. 

Ransom’s protoevangelically wounded heel which he earns in his climactic underground battle will mark the hero for the rest of his days. Ransom literally saves the world, securing a beatific joy for its blessed inhabitants. Returning home utterly transformed, C.S. Lewis’ space trilogy hero will go on to embody an Arthurian “Fisher King” status in the onset of an apocalypse of Earth’s own in the trilogy’s final book—a proper hero’s journey arc of solar proportions.

Narnia’s Cave: The Lion’s Den

Cave moments elsewhere figure prominently in the transformation of Lewis’ protagonists; the entire final sequence of Narnia’s Silver Chair happens underground. An especially compelling “inmost cave” however, comes subtly in The Lion, The Witch, and The Wardrobe. 

After his costly rescue from the fortress of the White Witch, the traitor Edmund arrives at the Narnian camp. Edmund intended to betray his family to the murderous Jadis for a kingdom of his own, but neither his siblings nor Narnia’s true King-Above-All-High-Kings would desert him to death. Famously, Aslan will give his own life as a ransom exacted by the witch’s hand in Edmund’s stead. But there’s a cave to be found in this narrative that has nothing to do with Aslan’s self sacrifice. 

Before full reunion with his siblings can take place, Edmund is called by Aslan into his tent. Not even elder brother Peter may enter; Aslan’s words are for Edmund alone. The encounter is restorative, and though no one (not even the reader) ever learns in full what Aslan told Edmund, the former traitor’s encounter with the Fearsome (but Good!) Beast leaves him forever changed. Aslan—the faithful, sacrificial king—summons Edmund—a traitorous would-be king-by-counterfeit—into his tent for a transformative confrontation.

Edmund’s “inmost cave” is a lion’s den.

Jack’s Own Cave

I find it interesting that the cave experiences of Lewis’ already-redeemed characters are their epic confrontations with villains (Perelandra, Silver Chair). For the adventurer without Christ, however, their cave holds a different Adversary. 

Lewis knew what it was to have a soul that once called God “Enemy.” He knew the experience of being gently, but unrelentingly, pressed by the insistence of his Enemy’s claims, until eventually, all of his own defenses became useless. He knew what it was to have the High King assail, rescue, and ransom you, almost without your having any say in the matter—to find yourself the “most reluctant convert.” 

For the pre-redemption hero unsuspectingly journeying to Christ, a disarming encounter with the living God will be what awakens them. Jesus himself will be their “inmost cave.”

Not until after they are torn by the claws of a Great Lion will the hero discover that they haven’t become prey; they’ve left behind something they were never meant to be. Like Dawn Treader’s Eustace, the Lion’s paw deals the journeyer no wound, but rather removes the armor of unfeeling scales, making dragons into children again. Like Wardrobe’s Edmund, the lion’s den is not a place for devouring, but a close communion in the King’s own tent where transformation occurs. 

Jack and Joseph may never have had the chance to share their own “Addison’s Walk”¹ experience together, like the fateful stroll so crucial in Lewis’ own conversion. The atheist-turned-apologist never had the opportunity to take by the shoulder this fellow academic and enjoyer of myths, pointing Campbell down the way where a cave encounter of his own would’ve awaited him. Having met the “Lion” when he himself accepted belief in Christ, I imagine Lewis might’ve prepared Campbell for the transformative confrontation in a uniquely relatable way:

“The cave you fear to enter holds the treasure that you seek”—haven’t you said so, Joseph? If surrendering to belief in Christ is what frightens you, perhaps you might see in the person of the God-Man the very Cave that beckons your entrance. A mere cave like so many others, from as many tales and legends—so it may appear from the outside. 

But come closer, and see not merely a mythical cave, but a real, first-century Jewish tomb. Glance past its rocky entrance, and see not shadows filled with the skeletons of adventurers past in their glittering mail, but a shaft of sunbeam alighting upon a form like neatly folded grave linens. Be braver still, and step inside; it’s not a treasure awaiting the bold and masterful that you will find, but a newly emptied tomb—the only one of its kind in history—vacated at its own Occupant’s will.

And it’s a Voice that you’ll hear from behind—from the outside, from where the light comes in and paints all the cave’s walls with the forms of shadows—calling you to follow in the footsteps of the One who walked out of that same tomb, and into His new life.

Yes, I feel I must admit to you in good faith, my friend: accepting faith in the Risen Christ is a bit like walking into a lion’s den. And I’ve no reassurance to offer you, either, about Him being a “tame” lion.

But then, Joseph, what cave worth venturing is safe? What adventure worth having boasts of tame lions? If Christ is the one you’ll meet in your cave, you can take another of my friend’s word for it: ‘Who said anything about safe? ‘Course he isn’t safe. But he’s good.’“

1. Addison’s Walk is the name of the walking trail at Oxford where Lewis was presented with the idea of Christ as the fulfillment of humanity’s mythic longings—the one “true myth”—by friends and eventual “Inklings” members, J.R.R. Tolkien and Hugo Dyson. ↩︎