The below comes from a sermon Lewis preached in 1941 to one of the largest congregations to ever gather at St. Virgin the Mary in modern times. It comes from The Weight of Glory. Walter Hooper, friend and personal secretary to Lewis during his last days, said that he puts this sermon and writing on par with some of the Church Fathers. I am no adequate judge of such things but the below really struck me. In my estimation, few write with such depth and humor as Lewis . . . too bad there is little of this type stuff coming out today. Alas . . .
From the Weight of Glory by C.S. Lewis
"Meanwhile the cross comes before the crown and tomorrow is a Monday morning. A cleft has opened in the pitiless walls of the world, and we are invited to follow our great Captain inside. The following Him is, of course, the essential point. That being so, it may be asked what practical use there is in the speculations which I have been indulging. I can think of at least one.
It may be possible for each to think too much of his own potential glory hearafter; it is hardly possible for him to think too often or too deeply about that of his neighbor.
The load, or weight, or burden on my neighbours glory should be laid on my back, a load so heavy that only humility can carry it, and the backs of the proud will be broken. It is a serious thing to live in a society of possible gods and goddesses, to remember that the dullest and most uninteresting person you can talk to may one day be a creature which, if you saw it now, you would be strongly tempted to worship, or else a horror and a corruption as you now meet, if at all, only in a nightmare. All day long we are, in some degree, helping each other to one or other of these destinations. It is in the light of these overwhelming possibilities, it is with the awe and the circumspection proper to them, that we should conduct all our dealings with one another, all friendships, all loves, all play, all politics. There are no ordinary people. You have never talked to a mere mortal. Nations, cultures, arts, civilisations--these are mortal and their life is to ours as the life of a gnat. But it is immortals whom we joke with, work with, marry, snub, and exploit--immortal horrors or everlasting splendours.
This does not mean that we are to perpetually solemn. We must play. But our merriment must be of that kind (and it is, in fact, the merriest kind) which exists between people who have, from the outset, taken each other seriously--no flippancy, no superiority, no presumption. And our charity must be a real and costly love . . . next to the Blessed Sacrament itself, your neighbour is the holiest object presented to your senses."
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