I still remember vividly the first time I had a panic attack. It was 2009 and I was a freshman in high school. I had turned on the TV one day to see a Fox news headline that was saying something about North Korea completing a nuclear test, accompanied by a series of clips displaying medium to long range ballistic missiles being fired off. And that’s when the thought entered my mind: What if a nuclear bomb were to hit the United States right now? In the months following, I had a series of recurring daydreams and nightmares that were preoccupied with that thought. There were many times I found myself looking up into the sky, imagining what it would be like if that apocalyptic scenario were to play out–the resulting panic, the hysteria, the terrifying and devastating aftermath.
All of that imagination eventually culminated in a tipping point when July 4th of that year rolled around. I was outside watching the fireworks with friends, listening as the sounds of explosions filled the summer night air, when my anxious thoughts suddenly decided to take over. I told my friends I had to go to the bathroom. That was only half-true. What they didn’t see was the fourteen year old boy in the bathroom with his hands over his ears, cowering in the corner in a near fetal position, trying to snuff out the sounds of “bombs bursting in air.”
From a young age, I have always been tempted to ruminate on the worst-case scenarios, oftentimes with an apocalyptic flavor to them. So, needless to say, when something like the war in Iran rolled around, the temptation presented itself for my thoughts to run afoul once again. I’m certain I’m not the only one who has felt that temptation. That’s especially the case when you add into the mix that it’s not 2009 anymore and the internet is now a reality. With its near infinite opportunities for fearmongering and endless doomscrolling, the internet can easily function as a pressure cooker for self-induced paranoia. It has all the ingredients necessary for an environment of needless catastrophizing from the general public (my generation had it much easier than this generation in that regard).
Fortunately, I’ve come a long way since I was a freshman in high school. Ironically, that’s owing, in no small part, to someone I’ve never actually met; someone who has lived on through his writings, and come to profoundly impact the way I see the world and understand my faith. I’m talking about C.S. Lewis, of course–a man whose words have always had that special knack for finding me when I needed them most. And, when I saw the news about Iran, it felt like such a time.
Now, in 1948, not but a few years after the U.S. dropped atomic bombs on Japan and World War II had officially come to its end, the Cold War era had begun, and nuclear war was on a lot of people’s minds. In turn, Lewis wrote a brief essay, addressing the atomic anxiety that had come to subsist underneath the surface of the collective psyche. The essay, appropriately titled On Living In An Atomic Age, has since become a well that countless people like myself have drawn from for courage and clear-headedness, both in times of peace and in times of war..
Given the Iran situation, and the seemingly endless foray of online influencers, commentators, and outlets persistently speculating about the worst possible outcomes (which this essay is, in no way, a political endorsement of whether or not any of those particular voices are reliable), I figured now is as good a time as ever to return to Lewis’ essay. Because it seems that the conditions are ripening for the collective psyche to grow frantically anxious again, just as they were in Lewis’ day, and a timely dose of encouragement is needed. He wastes no time in getting straight to the point either.
Lewis opens:
“How are we to live in an atomic age?” I am tempted to reply: “Why, as you would have lived in the sixteenth century when the plague visited London almost every year, or as you would have lived in a Viking age when raiders from Scandinavia might land and cut your throat any night; or indeed, as you are already living in an age of cancer, an age of syphilis, an age of paralysis, an age of air raids, an age of railway accidents, an age of motor accidents.” In other words, do not let us begin by exaggerating the novelty of our situation. Believe me, dear sir or madam, you and all whom you love were already sentenced to death before the atomic bomb was invented: and quite a high percentage of us were going to die in unpleasant ways. We had, indeed, one very great advantage over our ancestors — anaesthetics; but we have that still. It is perfectly ridiculous to go about whimpering and drawing long faces because the scientists have added one more chance of painful and premature death to a world which already bristled with such chances and in which death itself was not a chance at all, but a certainty.1
Now, for some, this may hardly seem like encouragement. This isn’t particularly extraordinary prose on Lewis’ part, but rather a cold dose of raw, sobering reality. But, as it is, the words we often least want to hear are the ones we need the most. No one wants a bad diagnosis, after all, but it’s the first step in getting our sense of sanity back. Insanity is, after all, being out of step with reality, and giving ourselves over to delusions. But here, as Lewis reminds us, is a fact of life as concrete as the existence of the sun, and it’s best we don’t avoid it: there is a 100% chance of death.
This was true before the war in Iran, it’s still true during it, and will continue to be true long after it’s over. In times like these, many of us are tempted to spend an abnormal amount of time worrying about some sort of potential catastrophe, and believe we’re justified in doing so, because, after all, “these are unprecedented times.” But that misses the rather obvious point, doesn’t it? That we actually aren’t in unprecedented times at all.
No matter which way you slice it, we were all destined to die at some point or another, and it likely wasn’t going to be pretty for most of us. This has always been the case, no matter which age of history we find ourselves in. Another world war scenario hardly presents anything new. We are not so special as we would like to think.
That being said, how then should we conduct ourselves in “times like these”? Lewis’ words provide a clear path forward:
[The] first action to be taken is to pull ourselves together. If we are all going to be destroyed by an atomic bomb, let that bomb when it comes find us doing sensible and human things praying, working, teaching, reading, listening to music, bathing the children, playing tennis, chatting to our friends over a pint and a game of darts—not huddled together like frightened sheep and thinking about bombs. They may break our bodies (a microbe can do that) but they need not dominate our minds.
How should we carry ourselves in light of some potentially impending chaos? In light of world wars, epidemics, genocides–which are all just different ways of saying the same thing: of certain death? The advice is simple: as we always have. If catastrophe comes, let it find us reading, working, going to concerts, playing with our children, making love to our wives, or drinking a beer with a friend. Simply put, let it find us enjoying our lives rather than worrying about them. Catastrophizing the end of the world won’t change the imminent reality of death. Sufficient for the day is its own trouble.
If we are going to maintain our sanity in an age tempted to lose it, it is by first accepting reality rather than denying & avoiding it. Reality was bound to come knocking on our doors at some point or another, at a time we did not expect and in ways which likely would not be pleasant. There’s no escaping it. And, of course, if all our hopes and dreams only extended up to the point of our short-lived material existence here on earth, then this would be a rather depressing life. If that really were the case, perhaps we would have reason for despairing about the reality of imminent death.
But if our hope extends beyond this life? If our faith rests in the idea that this is not our eternal home? That there is such a thing as heaven. Well, then we needn’t draw long faces about the potential of another catastrophe. Because death doesn’t get the final say in the matter, does it?
It, of course, may temporarily affect our bodies, but it need not steal our joy. If the Christian story is true, then such worries need not dominate our minds at all. Our Lord has given us permission to be rid of that. Of course, this is all easier said than done, as some will likely find fault. But then again, isn’t everything?
Footnotes
Colton Banks 