Phillip Pullman and C. S. Lewis

Most readers of current fantasy literature are familiar with Phillip Pullman's His Dark Materials trilogy, which is set in a subtly magical alternate version of Oxford, England. Pullman wrote the series on purpose to counter the teachings of C. S. Lewis's Chronicles of Narnia. It is an intentional reverse-viewpoint to the Christian one of Lewis. Pullman's vitriolic hatred of Narnia, is, by now, very well-documented. This hatred of the Narnia books is more than a bit puzzling; Pullman has infamously stated that the Narnia books are "one of the ugliest and most poisonous things I've ever read". A strange statement because, as Christian works go, the Narnia books are among the most non-judgemental, non-poisonous books the genre has to offer. Had Pullman been talking about say, Jack Chick, that charge might have made sense. Chick tracts generally DO depict the Christian worldview as ugly and poisonous, and the Christian god as unforgiveing and tyranical--not to mention (I dare say it)unconcerned with real morality.

But Lewis's depiction of Christ and God throughout the Narnia Chronicles and his apologetic works for adults is a far more benevolent one. I'm tempted even to say "liberal," though that's hardly accurate, as Lewis did subscribe to tradtional Christian morals. However, it is the brand of Christianity actually promoted by Lewis that is very reason some groups of fundamentalist Christians have major problems with him. I've read quotes from some Christians who honestly beleive Lewis is even now suffering torment in hell for his beleifs. I'll briefly state that their God is not a moral one, and his motives for punishing Lewis not based upon true morals but on technicalities, before getting to the heart of the matter by examining the following quote by Phillip Pullman:


There's a distinction between the things Lewis says as a critic, which are very acute and full of sense and full of intelligent and sometimes subtle judgements – much of which I agree with – and the things he said when was possessed by the imp of telling a story, especially in his children's fiction.

Narnia has always seemed to me to be marked by a hatred of the physical world. When I bring this up, people say, oh no, what nonsense! He loved his beer, loved laughter and smoking a pipe, and the companionship of his friends and so on.

And so he might have done. But that didn't prevent perhaps his unconscious mind from saying something quite different in the form of a story. I'm by no means alone in attacking Lewis on these grounds.


Notice that Pullman takes Lewis to task for what he terms "hatred of the physical world," essentionally for being what might be called overly spiritual, concerned for the world beyond this one--which, as far as Pullman is concerned, does not exist. Anti-Lewis Christians, on the other hand, take Lewis to task precisely because he DID indulge in worldly pleasures. Lewis is well-known to have smoked and drank, and was known to have remarked that he enjoyed good eating, the obvious reason for all the mouth-watering food references throughout the Narnia. Lewis may have felt he was "made for another world," but he had hardly given up appreciating the pleasures afforded by this one while he remained on earth. Lewis's critics, it must be acknowledged, are not entirely off the mark here. Christ did indeed warn that one must hate the world, even hate himself, to become his disiple. Jesus spoke in metaphor, and it would be foolish to take these statements literally, however. We know that the taking of one's own life is a sin, and Christ did not prohibit drinking, only drunkenness. Jesus spoke to his followers in these seemingly extreme terms to hammer his point home: indulging in the physical world is gratifying one's animal nature, and is, if carried beyond moral limits, a form of selfishness that blinds one to the needs of others. And helping others was central to Christ's teaching; here is the real reason why wordly overindulgence is sinful. Did Lewis qualify as overindulgent? Probably not, as I've read nothing to suggest he was anything other than caring for the less fortunate, though all of us are fallible at times. But what the anti-Lewis crowd truely objects to about him are his theological beleifs, some of which run counter to their own orthodoxies.

For one thing Lewis was well known as an inclusionist, a belief system which holds that even those outside Christianity can still be admitted to heaven in certain circumstances. In other words, those who are often considered as unbeleivers are not necessesarily sent to hell. To beleive that they are, merely because of their failure to recognize certain facts about Christ, is to beleive admission to heaven is dependent upon certain technicalities rather than actual morals. Lewis communicated his inclusionist beleif most strongly with the Calormene boy Emeth in The Last Battle. Emeth is a noble and virtuous character who has been seeking the Truth all his life. The problem is, he has been taught worongly; in fact, he's been taught the very reverse of the actual truth. When he finally encounters Aslan (Christ), he is admitted into Heaven, because once he finds the real truth, he accepts more than willingly. There are, of course, some Christians who nonetheless object to this, because of their beleif that Heaven is essentially a club for Christians only, rather than a reward of Eternal Life for the virtuous. This notion, I beleive, is rooted in human tribalism, rather than in religion. The idea that one must belong to to one's particular faith in order to be saved also pops up in various Christian cults. Some OSAS proponents even state that one must be an Eternal security to enter heaven. Such notions are entirely fallicious, of course, as the both cults and OSAS (which originated with John Calvin), did not even exist for hundreds of years after Christianity had long established itself.

But back to Pullman and his objections to Lewis. The character of Emeth (who is a dark-skinned Calormene) is one of the facts which flies in the face of Pullman's charges of racism on Lewis, as others have noted. Pullman's charges of racism and sexism on the Narnia books, in fact, have the intellectual depth of a PC Democrat's ad-hoc attacks on his Replublican rivals during an election, something one would think would be beneath a writer of such obvious depth and talent. But are Pullman's attacks on Lewis entirely genuine? One would think that he would at least acknowledge Lewis talent as a creative fantasist, yet he has not done so to my knowledge. But here is another interview quote that might prove enlightening:

Because the things he's being cruel to are things I value very highly. The crux of it all comes, as many people have found, with the point near the end of the Last Battle (in the Narnia books) when Susan is excluded from the stable.

The stable obviously represents salvation. They're going to heaven, they're going to be saved. But Susan isn't allowed into the stable, and the reason given is that she's growing up. She's become far too interested in lipstick, nylons and invitations. One character says rather primly: 'She always was a jolly sight too keen on being grown up.'

This seems to me on the part of Lewis to reveal very weird unconscious feelings about sexuality. Here's a child whose body is changing and who's naturally responding as everyone has ever done since the history of the world to the changes that are taking place in one's body and one's feelings. She's doing what everyone has to do in order to grow up.

Maybe one day she'll grow past the invitations and the lipstick and the nylons. But my point is that it's an inevitable, important, valuable and cherishable stage that we go through. This what I'm getting at in my story. To welcome and celebrate this passage, rather than to turn from it in fear and loathing.

That's what I find particularly objectionable in Lewis – and also the fact that he kills the children at the end. Now here are these children who have gone through great adventures and learned wonderful things and would therefore be in a position to do great things to help other people.

But they're taken away. He doesn't let them. For the sake of taking them off to a perpetual school holiday or something, he kills them all in a train crash. I think that's ghastly. It's a horrible message.

Notice that in the next to the last paragraph, he states "Now here are these children who have gone through great adventures and learned wonderful things and would be in a postion to do great things to help other people." Note that here Pullman appears to give Lewis credit where credit is due after all. He acknowedlges there are "great adventures" in the Chronicles, and even that the children have learned "wonderful things," something that would hardly characterize Lewis and Narnia as morally deficient. It seems, also, that virtually all of Pullman's criticsm of the actual story and substance of Narnia is focused entirely on the climax of The Last Battle, the final book of the series.

Let me say, before criticising further, that Pullman makes a valid point here. I will state, unequivally, that Lewis is guilty of a very bad story-telling blunder when he "kills off," the children in order to get them to heaven. There is simply no need for this. I do not beleive that Lewis was dismissive of charity, honesty, or any other of Christ's teachings in the here and now. The books themselves stress the importance or morality (as even Pullman appears to be aware), and even Lewis's own life would tend to refute Pullman's contention that for Lewis, the next life is the only one that matters. That said, I'd say that Lewis was simply guiltly of oversight, not warped ideology, in writing the ending. The children could have lived charitable and productive lives in the service of Christ until they reached a ripe old age. Upon reaching Aslan's country, they might well have become as children again. It is in fact often speculated that we will appear in heaven as we did during the best part of our lives--a man who dies at eighty would not appear as eighty-year old in heaven. Even time would not work as it does on earth, and those who arrived "early' in heaven might meet up with loved ones who died later on. We can only speculate on the afterlife, of course, and Lewis could have done better then he did.

As for the problem of Susan, it, too, should be considered a literary flaw, as she was one of the heroic characters in the early Narnia, and her sudden exclusion at the end makes little sense. However, as others have pointed out, Lewis merely leaves it open-ended as to what Susan's eternal destiny wil be. Her interest in trivilaties appears to be a adolescent stage she is going through, in fact, and not true maturity, which I don't beleive Lewis is trying to discourage.

It has also been pointed out that Pullman has a similar problem in his own series, which might well be called "The Problem of Roger". Roger is the best friend of Lyra Belacqua in the first book of the series. Most of The Golden Compass centers around Lyra rescuing Roger form the Oblation Board, a Church-sponsored orgnization charged with conducting unethical experiments on children. Lyra is successful in saving Roger, but she might as not have been, as Roger is murdered by Lord Asrial, Lyra's "uncle" (actually her biological father) in same manner as the Oblation board , no less, in order to open a transdimensional portal. Lord Asriel, by the way, is the person whose goal is to overthrow the phony "God" (known as the Authority) and estabish a "Republic of Heaven" characterized by freedom and tolerence. In the words of Orson Scott Card, in his review of Pullman's novel:

In other words, even as he attacks religion for all the evil that it causes, he can't get through his own story without having his heroes duplicate all the evils he deplores -- right down to sacrificing an innocent, unwilling child's life to open a door into another world, an act committed by a character who ends up being the leader of the anti-religious religion.

The rest of Card's essay, which I can't recomend enough, can be found here:

http://www.ornery.org/essays/warwatch/2002-04-15-1.html

The question is, is Pullman guilty of morality slip here or not? He clearly is in sympathy with the "Republic of Heaven" idea. It depends if he is agreement with Asrial's ruthless means of acheiving it. If so, the he is promoting emiricism, an "ends justifies the means" morality. Or possibly he is operating on the "happiness vs. suffering" system of morality promoted by most atheists. If morality is determined by the amount of happiness or suffering occurs for greatest number of people, then one could indeed reach the conclusion that Roger's death could be justified. That is, if more the estabishment of the Rebulic would promote greater happiness among its citizens, then the death of one measly kitchen-boy is relatively inconseqeltial. The problem here is, of course, that our innate moral consiousness ---which as Christians, we beleive is installed in us by God--tells us otherwise. The number of individuals and degrees of happiness acheived is not enogough to argue the morality of a single murderous action.
However, it is not a forgone conclusion that Pullman himself shares his character's postion. He may not agree that Roger's death was a necessary evil to achieve a greater good. Asriel is far from a heroic character in many aspects, although his ultimate goals may be admirable in intent. It is Lyra who is the true hero, and she is never guilty of such morally reprehensible action. Pullman has others reasons for killing off Roger at the end of book one, which come to light in The Amber Spyglass, the third and final volume. An actual afterlife awaits spirits in Pullman's universe, not Heaven of Hell, but a realm similar to Greek Land of the Dead, where the ghosts wander about in a state of eternal boredom. They have been put there by the Authority, the pretender God, whom Lyra and Will eventually euthanize. Lyra finds Roger, and then liberates him and the other spirtis from the land of the Dead. What happens then is that they simply dissipate into nothing, though Pullman attempts to put a pretty face on what is surely oblivion at this point. He doesn't succeed, but he probably does that best he possibly can at making nothingness sound appealing. Like most atheists, Pullman beleives that oblivion is what really waits for us all in the real world, so here he's communicating what he beleives to be the true fate of all conscious beings.

But one more thing about Pullman's trilogy. Pullman imagined an alternate reality in which John Calvin has become Pope, and supposedly Calvinism reighns supreme. Why did he do this? In a DVD I have about the background of His Dark Materials in which Pullman explains that heretics where burned under Calvin, including a child heretic. Naturally Pullman is outraged by the terrible evils perpetuated by the church, and Calvin specifically. It may not be a coincindence then, that the doctrine of OSAS originited with Calvin, who undoubtedly beleived he was going to heaven in spite of his misdeeds. Pullman, of course, sees only religion itself as the problem. Perhaps he should look deeper....

Tigger

Here is a story I wrote about a Tasmanian tiger or thylacine. I am interested in this species, and I would write more on this if I had time. I don't right now, but I just wanted to post this story:

Tigger

Kate Millan relaxed in her seat on the airplane. Her husband occupied the seat next to her. He was reading the latest issue of the Smithsonian.
It had been several hard months working at the office. Kate felt she was long overdue for a vacation. She absently gazed of the window. Fleecy, vaporous clouds were visible far below, and through this haze vast blue of Pacific.
Kate’s husband was a junior professor at the local university back in Illinois. He worked in the zoology department, and had an enthusiasm for rare animal species that Kate herself didn’t really share. In fact, Jeff’s constant obsessive interest in rare species bored Kate and had gotten her nerves back when they were in the early stages of their marriage. Before they both agreed on this vacation, they had both made a pact that he could do all the animal research he wanted but that they wouldn’t discuss anything of his interests at all during the trip.
And that might prove difficult, Kate had reasoned. She rather suspected—no she was certain—that her husband had suggested this particular locale for their vacation could not have been a coincidence. Of all the places on earth Kate would have chosen, Tasmania would have been possibly the last. But Jeff had done his level best to convince her:
“It’s a beautiful island—not some exotic place where hairy men and savage beasts live. Look at these brochures! It’s pretty much like Hawaii.”
“Then why don’t we go there? Hawaii, I mean.”
“Honey, that’s where we went last time.”
“I’d so like to go there again.”
“But you’ll like Tasmania. It’s got a rich history. Great historical sights. And there’s great scenery. Just take a look.”
Kate looked the brochures, over, and she had to admit, some of it interested her. So at last they agreed. They had booked on Quantas airlines at O’Hare airport, and had flown to Melbourne, then from Melbourne they were now on their way to their destination. Kate was now looking over her Gardening magazines. Jeff was still engrossed in the Smithsonian, as he had been most of time they had been airborne. Kate often wondered about Jeff. He was quiet man, who spent most of the time in thought anyway. Most of their marriage, in fact.
She sighed. At least it gave her time to do her own reading.
They arrived on the island within two days of leaving the mainland. Customs checked them. Kate noticed that most other passengers had to be native Australians, form their accents. They were being checked too. Though they were technically in the same country, apparently travelers from the mainland were treated exactly as though they were crossing international borders.
They stopped and had lunch at a small cafe, and then browed a nearby tourist gift shop. They picked up a tourist guide and more brochures. They then make reservations at a local hotel, and rented a car. During the drive to hotel, Kate got her first real look at the land of Tasmania. It was a quite a bit different then she suspected. It was a very beautiful island. As beautiful as Hawaii? Kate wasn’t sure she could make a good comparison. It was different, that’s for sure. Beautiful jade-green mountains rose above a land heavily-forested land. The road they took wound through deep ravines and snaked out along a rugged coastline in places. The intense, turquoise blue of the Southern ocean contrasted with the rich emeralds and jades of the land. Great escarpments rose above them. There were a great number of exotic plants. Kate noticed tower tree-ferns that looked like something straight out of the dinosaur era. There other huge plants which resembled nothing so much as gigantic pillow-beds. Jeff explained to her that these were called cushion plants. Plant life—this was making Kate’s vacation interesting already. It was also a thrill to see kangaroo-crossing signs with frequency. This trip was turning out to be amazing. She kept expected one of the animals to hop across the road in front. She’d make sure to tell Jeff to put on the breaks fast, if one did, but it never happened.
It turned out that the hotel they had booked was located far from the coast. Kate had expected one of the high-rise places on the coast. But the road took them inland past, forested mountains, and rolling plains covered with rich vineyards. The hotel itself turned out to be a rather low-class, three story affair. Jeff explained that he’d rented it because of its proximity to the local wildlife reserve, where he obviously intended to spend a good proportion of their vacation. It was a white building with peeling paint, but it did have the classic stucco architecture, common to the larger colonial mansions on the island.
They spent the first week visiting local tourist sites. They went to local wineries, several colonial homes, and the old building that had once housed prisoners from England. It turned out that Tasmania had a rich history that Kate had only begun to realize. Then Jeff took her to a wildlife park that featured the island’s icon, the Tasmanian devil. Kate knew next to nothing about them except for the famous Warner Brothers cartoon character. The devils in the park weren’t wild—they were kept in a large enclosure. There were in fact over a dozen of the black-furred beasts. The rangers fed them chunks of wallaby meat, while the devils emitted horrendous howls that had to be the weirdest thing Kate had ever heard.
The day following, they went to the local national park and wildlife refuge, where they went “bushwacking.” At least that’s what Jeff called it. It was really just a guided tour by one of the rangers along a well-worn trail. True bushwacking, as the Aussies called it, would likely involve hacking through the wilderness with machetes. Still, it seemed they were venturing into a vast wilderness, far from civilization. Huge eucalyptus trees rose all about them, so huge and massive in girth that they reminded Kate of giant redwoods. The park ranger warned them not to step off the path, mostly for the presence of highly poisonous snakes, the deadly tiger snake and the taipan. Kate hated snakes, and wished she hadn’t been told that, even though at the same time she was. Fortunately, the glimpsed no serpents, but several exotic birds caught her eye, and she sought to capture them on her digital camera. Too bad they too distant to show it well on the recording. Things rustled in the underbrush. The ranger informed them that animals that were common were the possums and predatory tiger quolls. The devil was common as well, but, the according to the ranger they usually ventured out of their burrows at night.
“One problem we have,” the ranger said,” is that this land is wanted by the Tasmanian logging company.”
“All of it?” Kate asked him.
“As much as they can get. They have plenty of land of their own over there.” He indicated the direction. “They’re supposed to plant new trees for the ones they’ve cut. The problem is, animals eat the little saplings, so then loggers have taken to poisoning them to ensure the new growth.”
“That’s horrible.” Kate said.
“Maybe. But logging is a big industry. It generates tons of profit, so there’s not much can be done.”
‘Even for the poor little animals?”
“Afraid not.
The next day they returned to the park. This time, they visited a spectacular waterfall. Then they went kayaking on the rapids, and visited a secret grotto inhabited by the famous Tasmanian giant crayfish that were considered a delicacy.
That weekend, they spent their time visiting the local shops. They went to a famous winery/restaurant, had some of that famous crayfish for themselves. Jeff bought three vine bottles of Tasmanian vintage. Kate anticipated what the neighbors back home would think when she showed them the rare Tasmanian wines, brewed only on the island. With still two weeks of vacation left, Jeff announced he was going back to the park to look for wildlife.
“You don’t have to come, if you don’t want to.” he told her.
“But what am I supposed to do here at the hotel?”
“I’ll let you have the car. I’ll take the bus to the park. It’s better that way.”
“You’re going out there to look for animals, aren’t you?”
“Maybe. Call it scientific research.”
“Okay. I can go to the shops, I guess.”
“That’s the idea. You’ll have fun.”
“Yes.” Kate said. “I suppose I will.”
Kate realized there were in fact plenty of other shops they hadn’t visited, and decided that this was a perfect opportunity to shop on her own. So let Jeff have his own fun, and she would have hers.
So the next day Kate amused herself in Jeff’s absence by browsing the stores in the nearby shopping area. She didn’t buy much, enjoyed browsing the most, and found a few cool items to bring back with her.
It was on her way back to the hotel that it happened.
Kate was driving the rented car through a strip of road with thick forest on either side, when something caught her eye in the rearview mirror. It was very quick, so quick, in fact, that she barely discerned it. A small animal racing across the road and vanishing in the tall weeds on the other side. She was only able to catch a glimpse of it before it vanished from view. But she had a good enough look in that brief instant to tell it was a dog of some kind. Or maybe a fox, as it was very small; the park ranger had told them there were a number of foxes in Tasmania, which had been introduced in the relatively recent past. If it were indeed, a fox, then it could fend for itself; if it were a small dog, however, Kate decided she simply could not abandon it. She was far from anyone’s home, after all. The poor thing might well be lost, and there was no way she could not try to save it—especially with those nasty devils prowling around.
Kate began backing up to the spot where she’d glimpsed the animal, knowing it was foolish, but watching all the time for cars. There were none.
When she reached the spot she’d seen it, Kate got out, and crossed the road. The weeds here grew tall and thick, as she pushed her way through them. The eucalypt forest on the other side looked deep and dark. Perhaps the animal had fled into the depths. Kate was just about to return to her car, when a small, cute face poked up through the grass over a fallen branch. Kate started. The animal’s face regarded her plaintively. And she knew it once what it was.
A puppy. A little lost puppy out here in exotic Tasmania.
Kate’s heart immediately went out to it. She thought of the numerous dogs she’d known growing up. Of course, there were dog owners down here too, and even strays. Her problem was: Jeff. Ever since her marriage to him, she had been prohibited from owning a dog. Despite his interest in zoology, Jeff was anything but a pet person. Especially when it came to dogs. They barked and made bad smells and were a financial strain and a general nuisance. Jeff had never bonded with an animal in all his boyhood. He would not tolerate an animal in their home, ruining their carpets or their furniture. He might be a strong champion for animal rights, and a professor in the zoology department, dogs were a definite no-no in his married life.
Which had been a very hard trade off for Kate. If she hadn’t loved Jeff so much....
But here was this lost or abandoned puppy, out here in the wild. There was no way she could leave it here, Jeff or no Jeff.
The little puppy continued to gaze at her. Kate could tell when an animal was silently pleading for help. She cautiously approached the puppy. It did not flee.
“Little fellow.” She told it. “”Who do you belong to?”
The puppy whined at her. Kate reached down, and seized the puppy by the scruff of its little neck and lifted it up. She blinked.
Stripes.
A series of chocolate-brown stripes ran down the pup’s lower back to the base of its short, stiff tail.
Never in her life had Kate ever heard of breed of dog that possessed stripes. Perhaps it was some sort of Australian breed? A kangaroo hound perhaps? Kate had heard of kangaroo hounds, but had never seen one.
But a lost puppy was a lost puppy.
Kate scooped up the little puppy and cradled it in her arms. The puppy was very docile and let itself be cuddled. She carried it back to her car, and placed it on the passenger seat. She got a blanked out of the back seat and placed the puppy on it. She shut the car door and headed for the hotel. What could she do now? Jeff would just have to share his apartment until she could find a home for the little guy.
When Kate got back to the apartment, she bundled the puppy into the blanket, and carried into the apartment. She laid it down on the sofa, then held it up. She found it was definitely a little guy. Kate wondered absently what she would call him, so long as he stayed with her.
The puppy nuzzled her cheek fondly. Then he licked her twice with his small soft tongue. It was surely wonderful how animals always expressed instant gratitude beyond that of humans. Kate gazed fondly at the little puppy’s quizzical face.
“Tigger.” She told him. “Tigger, that’s your name. It really suits you.” That was the perfect name for a cute, striped little puppy. Kate loved the cartoon character of the same name, who was Winnie-the Pooh’s buddy. She remembered one special line from the movie “Winnie-the Pooh and the Blustery Day,” which she’d loved as a child: “The most wonderful thing about tiggers is I’m the only one!”
“That’s you, Tigger. I’ll bet you’re the only one, too. I’ll bet you’re the only striped puppy in the world.”
Tigger licked her face again.
Already, she was falling in love with the little guy.
She lay Tigger down on the blanket again. Tigger looked at her and whined. Then he curled up into a striped ball, his tail over his muzzle.
The poor little fellow must have been through a lot, whoever had abandoned him.
She decided poor little Tigger deserved a good long sleep, whatever he’d been through. Meanwhile, she’d needed to go somewhere to find him some baby milk and puppy food. What would Jeff say? Well, she didn’t car, for the moment. She’d deal with that little problem when she came to it. For now, Tigger was her responsibility.
She took the car to a small grocery down the street from the hotel. She got a bottle, someone formula baby milk, and some puppy chow, and returned as fast as she could.
When she entered the apartment, Tigger looked up at her from the couch. It was as though he sensed she’d brought something good for him. Kate went into the small kitchen and prepared the milk. She heard a whine and looked down. There was Tigger, sitting with his little striped rump on the kitchen floor, gazing up at her plaintively. She gathered him up into her arms and fed the him the milk. Tigger took to it gratefully. Kate wondered how long he had gone without it; he was still a very small puppy, and it was unlikely he’d been weaned.
Kate set Tigger on the floor, and poured him a paper bowl of puppy chow. Tigger ambled for the food on shakey legs, and sniffed at it.
“Go on, Tigger.” Kate encouraged him. “You’re a growing dog. You need to eat.”
Tigger continued to sniff at it suspiciously. Then, as though finding the food unfamiliar, sampled a small portion of it. Then he ate chewed and swallowed a bit more, then a bit more. Finally demonstrating real appetite, he polished off all of it. He then gazed up at Kate as though expecting more.
“Not now, Tigger. You’ve had enough.” She gathered the puppy into her arms again, and carried him into what passed for the living room. She turned on the TV, and sat down on the couch, Tigger cuddled on her lap. It turned out that Tigger seemed to thoroughly enjoy watching the screen with her, though she had no idea what went on in a puppy’s head.
Kate was very glad she had rescued Tigger. There was no telling what could have happened to the poor little guy out there. She had seen two wombats and a wallaby as roadkill, and she shuddered to think.
But Jeff...
Kate knew by now that there was no way she could tell her husband. She was totally in love with little Tigger. There was no way Jeff would let her keep him. There was also no way she would give him up. But what could she do? Jeff was do home any minute. She had to hide him from Jeff. Inwardly she knew that this was foolish, that she could not possibly keep Tigger a secret for long. Jeff was sure to make her give him up. And she couldn’t, just couldn’t....
There was the sound of the bus on the street outside.
Jeff.
Quickly, Kate gathered up Tigger. The little guy remained complacent as she bundled him up and headed straight for the closet. She placed Tigger in it. “I’m sorry, sweetheart” she told the little guy. “But You’ll have to stay in here for a while. My husband won’t like it you’re here.” Tigger whined at her.
She heard Jeff knock at the door. Kate gave Tigger a scratch behind his small ears, then closed the door, and went to let Jeff in.
It turned out Jeff seemed rather nonplussed that evening. He had gone on another expedition into the park, with a different ranger this time, he said. He had even stored some pictures in his digital camera. He showed them to Kate. Some were of the exotic birds. Jeff called one of the birds a curowong and another species of cockatoo.
But it seemed Jeff was disappointed about something.
They watched TV together that evening. When they retired for bed, Kate grew worried about Tigger. She couldn’t just leave him in the closet all night. There was an extra bedroom, probably for couples who had children (Jeff had not wanted any), and Kate supposed she would have to put Tigger in there.
“Just a minute, Honey.” She told Jeff as she finished putting on her gown. She slipped out into the living room and opened the closet. She got down on her knees. To her relief, Tigger was still there, curled up and regarding her sleepily. He seemed fine. He was so amiable and complacent for a dog. She gathered him up, said some placating words to him, and carried him swiftly to the back room. She set little Tigger comfortably on the bed, scratched him behind the ears. Then she returned to the other bedroom and Jeff.
It was sometime much later, after they had made love and fallen fast asleep, that Kate felt the covers dragged off her. She was awake in an instance, blinking at the darkness of the room. Beside her, she heard Jeff snore. She felt the covers dragged further, herd them fall to the floor.
Instantly, she rememberd. That day. Tigger.
Kate nearly panicked. But she managed to keep her cool. Something had just pulled off the sheets, and she knew instantly who. Jeff, mercifully, had refused to wake.
As gingerly as she could, Kate swung her feet out of bed and stood up. The room was clothed in nearly pitch blackness. She looked at the floor but could see nothing. Then she heard the very faint, soft sound of the Tigger’s unsteady footfalls, heard him chew on the sheet. She crouched down. “Tigger?”
She heard a plaintive whine.
“Tigger!” Kate whispered harshly. “Come here! Now!”
Tigger did not come.
“Tigger!” she whispered again.
She heard the puppy pad away on his shaky legs.
And Jeff begin to stir himself awake.
Kate rose to her feet as Jeff sat up, started to get out of bed.
“Jeff!”
‘Uh...Kate?” he answered sleepily.
“Are you getting up?”
“Of course I’m getting up. I’ve got to go to the bathroom.” He told her. “isn’t that alright?”
“Well, yes. Of course. But...”
“Is something wrong?”
“Well, no, but....wait, I’ve got to check the bathroom before you use it! Just a minute!”
Kate made her way around the bed, looking at the floor. Where was Tigger? Was he under the bed? Or—
She gasped as she rounded the bed and saw the striped puppy almost at her husband’s feet. He was doubtless curious about this new human, and looked like he was about to innocently sniff Jeff’s foot. She was that close to losing him.
“You’re acting funny, Kate.”
“Go on, Jeff! Go to the bathroom! Now!”
“Huh? But you just said—“
“Now!”
“Okay already!” Jeff got up and headed for the bathroom. As soon as her husband had left the room, she scooped up Tigger and hurried out with him. She carried him back to the other bedroom and set him on the bed. She kissed the puppy on the head then left him there, making sure this time the door was tightly shut. She returned to the bedroom and lay down. Jeff returned a few seconds later. “Are you sure you’re feeling okay?” he asked.
“Oh, yes.” Said Kate. “I think was just having a nightmare and..it seemed like I was still dreaming. Sorry.”
“Just making sure.” Jeff said. He settled into the bed and was asleep in no time.
Kate breathed a silent prayer of relief.
In the days that followed, Jeff continued to take the bus to the park, always in the false assumption that his wife was occupying herself with shopping in his absence. But shopping no longer interested her in the least. There was a brand new presence in her life, and his name was Tigger. Half of her time was concerned with caring for the little fellow; the other half the most difficult, was keeping him secret from Jeff. This was no small task, and all the time when Jeff was in the apartment, the fear of losing her newfound companion was at the fore of her mind.
Meanwhile, Jeff spent more and more time at the park every day. Kate wondered what exactly he was doing out there. Was he just going on nature hikes and observing Tasmanian wildlife? She figured he must be doing some sort of wildlife research, but since they made a pact not do discuss his interest in wildlife, they never did. Which was just fine with Kate; she hardly had time to think about it, as her thoughts were all taken up with Tigger. The little puppy was more active now, and, though Kate wasn’t quite sure, he might even have grown some since she found him. His legs were less wobbly now, and he had taken to exploring the small apartment. Kate late him go everywhere he wanted, so long as Jeff wasn’t around. She set him on a sheet of newspaper to toilet train him. She kept on feeding him the milk formula, realizing it must be what was improving his strength. The only problem came when Jeff returned to the hotel. She had to keep Tigger shut in the extra bedroom during this time, and she was deadly afraid that he would start scratching at the door, and that Jeff would hear.
One evening though, Jeff surprised her by announcing he was to return to the park, where he would remain the entire night. This actually relieved her greatly; she and Tigger would have the apartment to themselves for the entire night. The next morning Jeff returned to the hotel disgruntled. This time he had red spots all over him; he explained that the sores had been caused by land-leeches. The bteis n covered his arms and neck.
"oh, you poor baby." she told him.'I'll have to take care of those."
"Don't worry about it honey, I'm fine."
"Those sure don't look fine. I'll get something for those."
Kate spent nearly an hour putting antiseptic on Jeff's leetch bites, while he sat on the bed wincing at the pain.
She noticed that he was acting more and more frustrated everyday; she got the idea he was looking for something out there, and not finding it. He talked to her less than usual, but he did share the results of his camera with her. He’d stayed out all night with a blind, watching the wildlife, it turned out. It had been long and generally uneventful, but e was able to capture several wild kangaroos on film during the course of the night, along with three brush-tailed possums and once a wombat ambled in front of his camera. It was the first genuine wild wombat they’d seen, save for roadkill. Kate would have thought Jeff would be more than pleased, but he seemed despondent.
“Did you see any devils?” she asked him, as they sat on couch watching the film.
“Actually, no.” Jeff told. “It’s a shame, I was hoping to see one in the wild. But I did hear them though. Believe me, they’re out there. I would have thought one would approach the camera. Maybe if I stay out another night.”
“Oh, no.” said Kate “I don’t want you to do that.” Part of her did like the idea of another night with Tigger safe, but she also was getting worried about Jeff spending so much time out there in the bush.
“I’ll go farther out, up in the hills.”
“No Jeff. You’ve already spent too much time out there. Surely you’ve done enough by now.”
“I guess you’re right.” Jeff sighed.
“You’re tired.” Kate told him. “Just go to bed. We’ll be leaving soon anyway.”
It was true. Kate was surprised she hadn’t considered it before now: in just three more days they would return to the states. What could she possibly do with Tigger? She thought she’d know what to do when the time came, but the truth was, she had no idea.
Except....
The next day, after Jeff had returned once again to the park, Kate sat alone on the couch, Tigger snuggled safe in her arms, and considered what her options were.
There was not a chance, she knew, that she could leave Tigger behind. She was entirely and totally in love with him. But there was no way Jeff would let her keep him, let alone let her take him back with her. That meant the only option, the only one at all, was to take Tigger back in secret. To smuggle him out of the country!
It seemed impossible, and it had to be illegal. Could she even do it? She wasn’t at all sure, but she had to try. Her heart simply left her no other option. Even if she were accomplish it though, she knew realistically that she couldn’t live in the same house with Jeff and keep Tigger a secret from him forever. Sooner or later, (perhaps most likely on the return trip, much as she dreaded that possibility), Jeff would discover that she’d been keeping a dog under his nose. He’d likely be furious with her for it, even more so if he found she’d actually broken the law to do it, and Tigger would lose his home and her. That would be more than she could bear.
Even though, she had to keep Tigger. As for what she would do once they were back home, she’d just have to worry about it then. Fortunately, Tigger in an odd manner for a dog; he was very quiet. He never barked, except for once he’d made a low, coughing sound, and emitted the occasional whine. He was remarkably quiet for a canine. He let her hold him, and that manner, seemed more like a cat than a dog. That meant there was a chance she might be able to do it.
The day before they left, she went out and bought a small pet-carrier designed for a cat or small dog. Kate selected one that looked rather like a more innocent type of carrying case. She was fairly confident that Jeff would not notice what it was among her other luggage.
Finally the day arrived to return home. Jeff was more despondent than ever after spending all those hours in the bush. Kate asked him what exactly it was he thought he was looking for. But Jeff replied that she just wouldn’t be interested.
Tigger was shut in the extra bedroom at this time. Kate went into the room and set the carrying case on the bed where Tigger was already curled complacently. The litte dog looked up at her.
“It’s okay, Tigger.” She told him. “I’m taking you back home with me. I know you don’t understand, but I have to put you in here. It won’t be for long, I promise.”
Tigger lay there, and whined up at her.
“It’s okay, little guy.” Kate said. “Just trust me.”
She lifted Tigger off the blanket he was laying on and used the blanket to make a soft nest for him in the carrier. Then she gave Tigger an affectionate scratch and lifted him inside. She nestled him in the blanket carefully, then fastened the door.
“Kate, are you ready yet?” Jeff called.
“Almost!” she called. She took the carrier off the bed and set with her other luggage in the main room. Jeff was lugging his own suitcase out the door.
Jeff loaded his luggage into the trunk of their rented car, but Kate insisted on having hers in the back seat. They checked out, and drove to the airport. Jeff had brightened a bit and asked Kate some questions about her trip, and if she enjoyed all the she shopping he thought she’d been doing while he was away. She gave him short answers, her mind being constantly on Tigger, who was tiding in obtrusively in the back seat. Again she feared he would begin scratching, and alert Jeff to his presence. But it didn’t happen. The puppy was quiet as always. Was he alright? Kate sincerely hoped so. The real nightmare, she realized, lay ahead of her.
They reached the airport. Before boarding the plane, the customs officers checked them again. Here was the moment Kate had been dreading most. They scanned both of their suitcases, the small case that held Tigger. Kate nearly jumped out of her skin when one of the men asked her abruptly, “Do you have a pet ma’am?”
“Oh?” she said.
“That case. I thought you might have a pet.”
“Oh, no. That’s just for my personal things.”
“Oh.” He scanned it again, seemingly unconcerned. No metal was detected, and the men turned nonchalantly to the next couple. When they met the receptionist in charge of the luggage, Kate took her aside.
“Ma ‘am,” she said “Could you help me?”
“What?” asked the receptionist, a pretty young blonde .
“Could you....make sure my case is placed in a safe spot.”
“Well, sure. Why?”
“Well....” Kate decided to tell the partial truth to her. “I have a small dog, who gets chills easily.”
“Oh!” she said. “You didn’t tell me you had a pet. Don’t worry. I’ll put him in the kennel. He’ll be fine.”
“But....!”
The receptionist had snatched Tigger away from her and was carrying off him and her suitcase.
Kate was dreadfully afraid Jeff had heard.
“Kate?” her husband asked.
“What?”
“What were you talking to her about?”
“I just wanted her to make sure my stuff was okay.”
“Why would you need to do that?”
“I just did.” She said helplessly.
“I thought I heard her say you had a pet.”
“She misunderstood me.”
“Oh. You should have told her we don’t have any pets. You don’t want her to put that case of yours in the kennel. That would be unsanitary.”
“Well, it’s too late now. I’m not going to worry about it.”
They were now boarding the plane with the other passengers, and Jeff said nothing more about it. In fact he said very little to her during the return trip. Doubtless his thoughts were on whatever it was he was looking for and didn’t find out there in the bush. Some kind of rare animal, maybe. Kate could well read her husband’s thoughts. But during the entire trip home, Kate could think of hardly anything else but Tigger, much as she tried to concentrate on other things. It would be a long flight for the little guy.
They flew once again to Sydney, and from thence back across the Pacific to Chicago, Illinois.
When Kate picked up her luggage, she heard nothing inside, and this worried her. She felt like holding up the carrier and looking inside, but she daren’t. Jeff was right there. Before she put the case in their car, though, she felt Tigger’s small body stir, and she was relieved.
She said little to Jeff on the drive from the airport to their home. Jeff noticed and asked her, and she replied that she was merely glad to be back home at last.
“You seemed worried back on the plane.”
“Oh. I was just tired at last.”
The familiar sights and sounds of the Chicago suburbs were all around them now. Never before was she so glad to experience the sound of the conjested Illinois traffic.
They arrived at their house. Kate hurriedly picked up her luggage. Once they were inside, Kate headed for their room and locked the door. Jeff had set his own luggage on the floor in the living room, and was now phoning the neighbors.
Kate set Tigger’s case on their bed. She then opened the door and peered inside.
“Tigger?”
She heard him whine. The puppy’s little face peered over the fold of blanket and looked her.
Kate grinned hugely. She reached and drew Tigger out. She held him up in front of her.
“Oh, Tigger are you alright, baby? I sorry I had to put you through this.”
Tigger, however, seemed perfectly fine. The little puppy licked her face with utmost affection.
“Tigger, oh, Tigger..”
She cuddled the little puppy in her arms, and rocked him gently. Tigger was such a brave, wonderful dog! He had made all the way from Tasmania to Illinois, and he didn’t seem in the least traumatized by the experience.
She had done it! She’d really done it. No wait, they had done it. Half the credit had to go to her canine companion. If he hadn’t been so quiet during the return trip, she’d already have had to give him up. Most dogs would have barked and announced themselves. Not her Tigger! Oh, he had to be the bravest, most wonderful dog in the world.
But for now, she had to find a new place to put him.
Jeff knocked on the bedroom door. “Kate?”
“It’s okay, Jeff.” She said.
“Are you coming out?”
“Pretty soon, Jeff.”
She knew then things were hardly over for herself and for Tigger. She had to hide him again. No matter, there were plenty of places in their house she could put the complacent little fellow. But what then? She couldn’t keep him a secret for long. And what about when Tigger started to grow? Well, she would solve those problems as they came. Right now she cradled the puppy in her arms for half an hour. Then she carried I him into the guest room and shut the door.
The next day, after Jeff had returned to work, she let Tigger out of the guest room and allowed him to explore the entire house. He showed a good degree of curiousity, even climbing and scratching on some of the furniture. And even chewing on some of it, a habit Kate realized she would have to break him of. That was exactly didn’t want animals sharing their home.
The days progressed. Kate grew ever more attached to little Tigger. She just couldn’t get enough of him. She allowed him the run of the house when she or Jeff was at work, only keeping him locked in the basement or the guest room when Jeff was around. She spent hours playing with him, often tug-of-war with a piece of yarn. And also much time watching TV with Tigger lying on her lap. She continued to buy puppy chow for him in secret, though he seemed to be outgrowing the milk. She also had him sample new sorts of food. Tigger seemed to prefer most kinds of meat. But she was able to coax him into eating some lettuce and other vegatables. Then she fed him have a Hershey bar. After that, Tigger seemed to take a strong liking for chocolate, and she make sure to pick up some chocolate bars form the grocery whenever she went. She just had to make certain Jeff didn’t suspect who they were for.
Then something happened.
She was home on a Friday afternoon fixing something in the kitchen. Tigger was sitting on the floor. She suddenly heard Tigger gave out a very un-canine sounding hiss. Kate glanced sharply down at the little dog.
Tigger was still engaged in the hissing. It was a low harsh sound like a diminishing steam-kettle. His mouth was gaping wide. For a second, Kate was astonished. With his mouth open, Tigger didn’t look very much like a dog. In fact, the motuh was open to much wider angle, she decided than a dog should have been able. And in that brief instance, his dogness seemed to vanish. Tigger closed his mouth and looked up at her.
Kate got to wondering. Even when his mouth was closed there was something distinctly un-doglike about Tigger. There always had been, she realized. Could it be, perhaps, that Tigger was really not a dog at all? The thought was almost frightening. It shocked Kate a bit. She noticed that Tigger’s eyes were too slanted, a bit more feline than canine even. His ears were a bit too rounded at the tips. And his tail—whoever heard of a dog whose tail never wagged? How strangely stiff it was. It seemed Tigger was not even capable of wagging his tail, despite his friendly nature.
She found herself thinking suddenly of a popular piece of urban folklore—the one commonly known as “The Mexican Pet.” Kate remembered hearing herself as a teen, and believing at the time that it was real. The story was always basically the same, whoever told it. Someone, usually a woman, went on vacation to Mexico. There, she rescued what she thought was a small dog. Then she returned home with her new pet, only to discover to her horror that the “dog” some sort of Mexican rodent. Well, that was just plain ridiculous. No way Tigger could be a rat; he had the perfectly normal canine teeth. What was he, then? Since he came form Australia, could it be that he was the Australian equivalent of the fabled rat from beyond the border? What lived in Australia? Was he some sort of possum, maybe? Kate realized then what Tigger had reminded her of for the brief time he had opened his jaws—an opossum. That hiss, too, it seemed more like what a possum might make. Kate began taking this seriously; she thought of the native Tasmanian animals she’s seen on Visitor’s billboard at the parks she had Jeff and seen. There was the famous devil, and brown white-spotted critter called a tiger quoll, and a few smaller rat-sized beasts. None of these resembled Tigger. Plus, all of those predators were small in their adult size. And Tigger was a very young whatever-he-was. From the size he was now,, Kate estimated that he would probably grow to the size of a collie or maybe a German Shephard. No, Tigger was a dog. There was simply nothing else in the world that he could possibly be. That left it open, of course, as to just what kind of dog he was.
Kate went to Jeff’s home office and did an Internet search on breeds of dog. She enjoyed reading about each of the dogs that caught her attention. But there was none that resembled her new companion. She did another search on Australian dog breeds, but this, too, yielded nothing.
At last, she gave up her search, and was contented to just assume Tigger was a very special, one of the kind dog—which, so far as she could tell, he was. She returned to the living room and turned on the television. She picked Tigger up and sat down. As usual, the amiable little fellow curled up in her lap and watched the screen right along with her. Kate looked down at him.
“Oh, Tigger,” she said to him. “You really are unique in all the world.”

The next evening, Kate had given Tigger the usual run of the house, when she received an unexpected call from the cleaners. They told her that Jeff’s suit and pants were ready to pick up. Jeff not being due home for another couple of hours, Kate hurried out.
It was about ten minutes after she left that Jeff arrived home early with three fellow zoology professors. His last class had unexpectedly been cancelled. This would be a perfect time some relaxation with some friends who shared his passion wildlife.
The men were soon seated around in the living room. Tigger was in the kitchen at the moment and feeling very hungry. He’d heard the men enter the house, and remained where he was afraid to venture out where they were. His friend Kate had left him for the time, and though he knew another human shared Kate’s home, he was never given contact with him. Why was that? Tigger didn’t know. The humans he’d met yesterday were also his friends. One had even picked him up like Kate did. Still, he didn’t trust these new ones—not yet.
The first things the animal who now knew himself as Tigger remembered were his mother’s milk, and being carried snug and secure in the flap of skin close to his mother’s warm belly. His world had shattered when a tremendous crash had come out of nowhere, causing white light to explode in his little skull. When he woke, Tigger had struggled out of his mother’s pouch. He had sniffed his mother and tried to wake her. He knew not why she did not move or breath. But he heard the screams and howls of the black beasts he knew would eat him. He cried plaintively for his mother to wake. When she didn’t, he staggered off dazedly on his wobbly legs into the forest. He’d found a hollow log and hid there, while sounds of crunching bone and tearing flesh filled the night. The next morning his mother was gone—gone completely. The black beasts had even consumed her bones. He staggered off in a daze once more—he didn’t know what else to do.
He hid himself away in the dark when the black beasts were prowling about. They had eaten his mother and Tigger knew they would eat him as well if they found him. In the daylight, he staggered about, blinking, crying from his mother to come and save him, even though his mother was no more. He was much weakened and dizzy from lack of milk, and suffering fainting spells, by the time he came back to the strip of stone, where he had last seen his mother, even though she no longer moved or breathed then. But he feared the stone place, for it had somehow taken his mother from him. But maybe she was alive somewhere on the other side of the stone strip. A great shining thing, roaring strangely had come tearing along the stone strip. The sound it made gave him terror, for he’d heard that same sound before his world had shattered.
But once the huge thing had passed, Tigger burst out across the stone plunging for the weed on the other side. Maybe on the other side his mother was still alive somewhere. All had been wonderful before his mother had carried him across. Yes, maybe that was it.
And something had happened. The great shining thing had come back. Tigger was too confused to run. That was when Kate had found him. That’s when Kate had become his new mother. That was when life once again became good like before, only different. Kate had saved him. Kate fed him, cared for him. Tigger loved Kate. Kate, he knew, would never let the black furred beasts eat him. Kate had given him his name. Tigger liked his name because Kate had given it him. Tigger worshiped Kate, because Kate could do anything.
But Kate wasn’t here now. And Tigger was very hungry. He was especially hungry for that wonderful stuff Kate called “chocolate” or “hershees.” He wanted some of it right now.
Did the other humans have any for him? Tigger didn’t know. But he was going to find out.
On uncertain legs, he began ambling in the direction of the human voices.
“I’m surprised at you, Jeff,” one of Jeff’s friends was saying. “I didn’t really think that would go back into the bush and actually look for them.”
“Well, I didn’t expect to find any.” Jeff said.
“Of course you didn’t find any. Because there aren’t any. The last reliable sighting of one was probably 1982.”
“There’s been plenty of sightings then.”
“I said reliable sightings. There’s plenty of sightings of Elvis, too.”
“They’ve even seen them on the mainland.”
“That’s my point. There haven’t been any of them on the mainland for 3,000 years.”
Jeff was becoming slightly irritated. “You’ve seen those two films? The creatures on those sure look like one to me!”
Tigger had ambled his way from the kitchen and was now sitting in complacent fashion on his little striped rump a few feet from the men. He was gazing up at the one human whose face was turned toward him. Maybe he would recognize what he wanted.
“Kate enjoyed the trip,” Jeff was saying. “She was at the local tourist traps, mostly. I think she got more out of it than I did. I wonder though, if I’d spent years in Tasmania, or maybe if I’d gone even further into the bush, where none of the rangers had been, then maybe-“
“Maybe you’d get even more wombats on film. In fact, I’m really sure you would. I bet you’d see tons of wombats!”
There was laughter around the circle, a harsh noise to Tigger’s ears.
The human facing Tigger had noticed him. Tigger saw the man glance down at him with a smile, then look away. Then look back, still with a smile, but now with a puzzled look in his eye. Tigger could not read these expressions, but he saw the man blink at him several times rapidly. The man gave a short laugh. “Jeff?” the man asked, not taking his gaze off Tigger and starting to bend forward in his direction.”Jeff?”
“You know,” Jeff was saying to another friend of his, “I had the strangest feeling the whole time. Like I could sense their presence. I felt like they had to be out there—somewhere. It was though there really was one of them right under my nose the whole time—“
His voice trailed off to nothing. The other three men were looking toward a corner of the living room. The man to whom he’d been speaking had risen from his chair and was now staring intently at some spot on the floor beyond and behind where Jeff was seated. The man closest to the spot was leaning over in his chair, and gaping silently.
Jeff felt a chill invade the room and settle over him. He rose slowly form his chair and turned around to see what it was that had suddenly caught his friends’ attention.
Kate had just picked up Jeff’s suit and pants at the cleaners when her cell phone rang. It was a friend of hers. “Hi Kate. I just wanted you to know you’re husband’s in the hospital.”
“Jeff? What’s happened!”
“I’m not sure yet. But something happened at your house.”
“You mean Jeff’s home?”
“Well, yeah. He must have got off early. Anyway, he passed out in state of shock. They told me his hair has turned white.”
“What!”
“That’s not all. It seems there’s some kind of mob at your house. They’re all professors from your husband’s department—“
Kate shut off the cell phone and stormed out to her car. She didn’t even need to guess the source of this problem: Tigger. How foolish she’d been to leave him alone, even to go to the cleaners. She hadn’t counted on the unexpected, in this case, Jeff’s return. She hadn’t guessed that the discovery of her secret would have turned his hair white, but she’d heard once that there are always new things to learn about one’s spouse.
Kate started her engine and headed for the hospital. A relief flooded through her. Her secret, long overdue, was finally out. She knew now that she could take it from here. The incident had made her decision for him. If Jeff’s hair had really turned white, well, it was just too bad. She wasn’t going to live by her husband’s rules anymore.
Kate felt giddy and lighthearted as drove toward the hospital, ready at last to explain everything to Jeff about Tigger. Having a dog in his life was just something he was going to have to live with.

Kangaroos and an (extinct) Tasmanian emu flee from two hunting thylacines in this 19th century illustration

The Problem With Eternal Security

Today, I'm going to talk about the Calvinist doctrine of Eternal Security, also known as Once Saved Always Saved (OSAS), or Perserverence of the Saints. To define this concept briefly, Eternal Security means that if one sincerely accepts Christ at one point in thier lives, then it doesn't matter if they commit any degree or qulaity of sin, or even if they totally renounce God. According to OSAS, as commonly understood, they will still end up in heaven.

Let me first reiterate that one reason I was an agnostic for many years is because of the fact that I was told many lies about God, often by sincere and beleving Christians. I became immersed in atheist literature for a while. I honestly beleived that what Sam Harris had to say in The End of Faith was correct. Christians are rightly concerned with the rise of New Atheism today. But all to often their arguments against Harris, Dawkins, et al. misfire terribly.

Consider the oft-repeated arguement from morality. This holds that since atheism excludes God, there can be no objective basis for morality. It just becomes a matter of opinion. Indeed, atheists cannot measure morality as they can say, the age of the earth or break ethics down into quarks and nuetrons as they can with subatomic particles. Most atheists are strict materialists who believe that if a thing cannot be measured ina laboratory, that is made subject to scientific inquiry and investigation, then it must not exist. What, then, are morals other than cultural artifacts? How can the ethics of one cultural possibly be superior to another since this asseration cannot be tested scientifically? Our leading atheists realize, however, that true moral relativism refutes itself. Sam Harris asserts that morality is merely a question of "happiness vs. suffering." The degree and quality of happiness and/or suffering, is, however, often not easy to determine, and the athiest often runs into a moral quagmire while attempting to do so. A prime example of this would Peter Singer's proposal regarding hemophiliac infants. While happiness and suffering are often important components of morality, this is not always the case. Consider the scenario of a population of humans plugged into a virtual reality program. Imagine that they may experience any manner of pleasure they desire with no repercussions whatever. Their experience is one of utter bliss, yet remain wholly ignorant regarding the reality of their situation. Given the importance most of us hold for Truth, it really morally defensible to keep them in that state? Few would answer that it is.

I beleive that a moral compass should, and usually does, govern human behavior, and this is far more reliable than the approach of attempting to mdetermine the quantity of "happiness" vs. that of "suffering." Such a "rationalist" approach simply won't work when it comes to the thorny problem of morals. It is true that there are times when it is our human prejudices and fears (often the fear of change) which governs our actions, when we suppose it is our moral compass, and here we must be on guard. I rather beleive this to be the case when it comes to certain cases of biotech phobia. This is where our rationality must be used. Is our position on a certain issue liable to reduce human suffering and promote human welfare, not merely in theory but in actuality? I believe that "human welfare" is a much better term than than "happiness."

Back to the moral compass, though. Since we can't determine if a moral compass objectively exists, we must rely on--guess what?--faith. We must take the existence of objective morals as a faith article because there is no other way to do it. There is, however, a huge problem with the "argument from morality," as it is often called. This atheist blog http://atheism.about.com/b/2007/09/19/francis-collins-accomplished-scientist-anti-atheist-bigot.htm offers the following quote by Francis Collins:

18:20: "This is a really important point here: If you want to accept the argument that this knowledge of good and evil, this moral law, is a pure evolutionary artifact, that it is basically an illusion — that there is no good and evil — then why do the atheists insist that we should get over religion and try to be good to each other? Who cares about being good? If they're right, we should all shrug off the whole idea and be just as darn selfish as we possibly can because there is no driving force behind this. We've all been hoodwinked by evolution into thinking that we're supposed to be good and we should rebel against this."

Now idea that Collins is an "anti-atheist bigot" is rediculous. Collins is a renowned scientist credited with his part in mapping the human genome. The athiests can't stand him because they the hate the idea that such a brilliant scientist, of all people, can also be a man of faith. Not surprisingly, Collins often takes it from both sides, even though his accomplishments far outwiegh those of any of his opponents, whether secular or religious. What he is saying here is NOT that atheists have no morals, but that their worldview is inconsistent with beleif in objective morality.

The fact is that all ideologcal athiests definitely have morals, and very strong ones at that, no matter how ideologically inconsistent they might be. If they did not, if they were believers in true moral relativism, they would not have written any of their best-selling books. They would not care about the supposed evils of religion, because true "evil" would be a fiction. they would believe in it no more than they believe in God. They wouldn't care a fig about racism, women's rights, homophobia, intolerance or equality. For the true moral relativist, such things would be not of the slightest moral import. A TRUE moral relativist would simply live it up, for the short time he had on earth, and not bother trying to make the world a better place.

But here is what's shocking. There are may people today who truely do subscribe to a worldview that really does allow for all manner of vice and immorality. What's worse is that they believe that there are no bounds to immoral behavior, and that literally NO act of depravity is too severe for condemnation. They beleive in little reason to behave morally, altruistcally, or to treat other human beings decently.

Social Darwinists? Eugenisits? Islamic Fundementalists? Worshipers of Moloch? Witches and Satanic cultists? What about Neo-Pagans and Druids?
Consider the following comments, gleaned from this site http://www.defendingthegospel.org/articles/article42.html:

"Simply defined, carnality is a spiritual state in which a born-again Christian knowingly, willingly, intentionally and persistently lives to please and serve self rather than Jesus Christ."

“Committed Christians may fall into sin, but a carnal Christian bathes in it. He has the mindset, motivation and methodology of sin."

The speaker here is no atheist or neo-Darwinst, but Dr. Anthony "Tony" Evans, a popular Christian apologist and a beleiver in the docrine of eternal security. He fully believes that such are "carnal" Christian will be in heaven. But to bad for any good percent who lived at decent life, contributed to human welfare, but just didn't happen to get "saved" somewhere along the way.

Or how about these, by Dr. Erwin Lutzer, another noted apologist:

histians can be deceived and live like the ‘sons of disobedience'...struggle with sexual addictions, or Christians who are greedy and idolatrous. We’ve all known Christians who live with these sins...Christians can do evil deeds and be caught in terrible sins. Some die in such a spiritual condition...If Paul meant that those who practice such vices will not enter the kingdom, our own assurance of final salvation would be in constant jeopardy. -Erwin W. Lutzer, Your Eternal Reward

"I am convinced that those who have trusted Christ are in Heaven today even if they died with the sin of murder on their conscience. -Erwin Lutzer, How You Can Be Sure That You Will Spend Eternity With God"

This is where a must add that a very many Christians do beleive in Eternal Security, and there are few, that I imagine, actually lead such grossly immoral lives. I do not even imagine that Dr. Lutzer and Dr. Evans do--but they are promoting the idea "carnal Christianity" is possible--all with the supposed endorsement of God himself! There is a common, and for the most part true, assumption, that once a person accepts Christ, they will be able walk away from sin. In fact, Darin Hufford, author of The Misunderstood God (a book I greatly appreciate, BTW) and who promotes a God is Love theology, states bluntly that Eternal Security DOES, in fact give us license to sin! But once that is done we will walk away from sin. If we experience the Love God has for us, will will no longer experience worldly desire. On the surface I agree with him. However, what about those who claim to have accepted Christ, and continue down a path of gross immorality? One common response from Eternal Security defenders is that such sinners were never saved to begin with. Perhaps. But if NO person who willingly and habitually sins will enter heaven (as the Bible clearly teaches), then ALL "carnal Christians" were indeed never saved. If Hufford's take on Eternal Security merely refers to free will, that we are not forced into obendience, then I agree. The acid test is: does he believe that even the most heinous individuals will be in heaven, or doesn't he? Evans, Lutzer, and many others do, and preach as much in their sermons and books.
I wonder.
Here is a site with an interesting story by an atheist:

http://atheisthaven.blogspot.com/2009/12/christian-vs-atheist-parenting.html

The comment I found particularly moving was the one following:

"At that point, for a few moments I just stood there shaking my head. I’ve seen too many times the results of a good Christian upbringing. You see these ignorant people beating their children, while shopping in stores. Their children grow up believing they can do anything they want; as long as they repent their sins to Jesus. The prisons are bursting at the seams with Christians."

Hmmm. Wonder why? Notice that the author, an athiest, never questions why he thinks his own children have grown up moral and decent, and his friend's entire family seems consumed by vice and squalor. Prison? Drugs? HIV? What's really going on here? Naturally, the assumption he's making is that it must have something to do with religion per se, about beleiving in "irrationality."

But is it?

He'll never likely concede Christianity might possibly be true, so he won't bother delving deeper into the problem. If he bothered he just might find these are the "carnal Christians" Dr. Evans and Dr. Lutzer beleive will be enjoying the fruits of everlasting bliss, while freethinkers who have lived a good life while be tormented for eternity.

Now, reader, ask yourself. What sort of God, exactly, do Evans and Lutzer subscribe to? The answer is: not a moral one.

My point is that the real villain here, the one responsible for casting Christians in a bad light, fueling the fires of ideological atheism, is not Christianity. Eternal Security, however might well be the real culprit.

It is true, some defenders of Eternal Security may point out that may lose thier rewards in heaven, even though they are saved. Thus the God they beleive in is therefore not entirely morally indifferent. However, this morality is a marginal one to say the least. It is unlikely, that fear of losing these (intangible seeming) rewards in heaven is likely to dissuade many form a sinful life in the here and now, if they so choose. As said before, I'm not saying that simply believing in this doctrine will result in a ammoral or immoral lifestyle. On the other hand, it is certainly not impossible, as an example on the following page shows, of a man the suthor knew who beleived anything he chose to do was God's will:

http://www.raptureme.com/rap43.html

There are two reasons I beleive people may wish to beleive in Eternal Security. One is simply the assurence that one is saved. That's perfectly understandable. I do NOT beleive that a "conditional" security means a single sinful act will cause one to lose one's salvation. How about repeated acts? They won't cause God to abandon one. But the thing is that sin deadens the heart to God, and therefore cause one to put oneself before others. I do not know exactly where the "cut off" point would be, but it would be when one was living one was living mostly or entirely for oneself, even if one still claimed to have faith.

The other reason for wishing to beleive in Eternal Security may in fact be a desire to sin without fear of losing one's salvation. Since were's all Fallen humans, why should this not be a core motive?