Tolkien and Lewis saw much through the same lens. Both were brilliant scholars familiar with history, literature, and languages. Both were prolific writers and their books shaped generations to come. They wrote fantasy literature, letting spiritual themes and allusions speak for themselves, although they were certainly capable of apologetics. Ultimately, they sought to build a kind of bridge from heaven to earth, and the world could not help but be enraptured by their work. These men had so much in common, but they also had one glaring difference

I’m a Protestant and my friend, Joe, is Roman Catholic. Occasionally, when I discover someone is Catholic, I joke, “Hey, our spiritual ancestors burned each other at the stake.” Generally, I say this once I know the person somewhat and know the person can handle humor. Joe was one such person, and we hit it off quickly. Joe, like me, is a practitioner of diversity and liberty, including religious liberty.

There was another duo a century ago that walked a similar path: J. R. R. Tolkien and C. S. Lewis. Lewis was Protestant and Tolkien was Catholic, and the man who did heavy lifting converting Lewis.

Tolkien and Lewis saw much through the same lens. Both were brilliant scholars familiar with history, literature, and languages. Both were prolific writers and their books shaped generations to come. They wrote fantasy literature, letting spiritual themes and allusions speak for themselves, although they were certainly capable of apologetics. Ultimately, they sought to build a kind of bridge from heaven to earth, and the world could not help but be enraptured by their work. These men had so much in common, but they also had one glaring difference: While Tolkien converted Lewis, he did not convert him to Catholicism. Lewis died a Protestant. Did this mean the end of their friendship? Not at all.

Joe was able to take my initial joke and return a jab, but without malice or insult. In fact, Joe’s defense to my critiques of Catholicism was one of patience and kindness. He completely reframed my initial presumptions of certain Catholic dogmas, genuinely trying to explain the why behind the how. For example, he would tell me that he prayed to Saint Stephen for me, even when I insisted he didn’t need to. While I disagree with his belief that saints can serve as intercessors, I could not help but be slightly disarmed that he wanted to pray for me.

Civil debate is a lost art. It still occurs at the margins, but the highway of differing opinion is crowded by social media and woke journalism, which are not modes exactly designed for helpful and even pleasurable disagreement. In this day and age, how could two people on opposite ends of a spectrum possibly enjoy disagreeing with each other, let alone on hot topics of politics and religion? There are two major principles which guide the conversations between Joe and I: commitment to truth and commitment to the other.

Read More