The Power and ‘Place’ of Words Spoken: In Middle Earth and Ancient Civilization

One great thing I like about having an electronic edition of The Hobbit and Lord of the Rings, is the ability to do word-studies on various themes — similar to Bible word-studies; in this case to see Tolkien’s vast use of language and Middle Earth themes.  From my recent re-reading through Lord of the Rings, I am again struck by the importance of the spoken word, and the idea of words having power.  Numerous examples abound, including Saruman’s voice which has power to deceive, or the word “key lock” at the gates of Moria, and the general idea of vows and oaths taken, a topic I explored in this previous post.

As pointed out in podcast episode 16 of Amon Sul, one interesting aspect of the story is the many times that speaking is with reference to NOT speaking about a particular thing:  namely, the Black Riders / Ringwraiths.  We first see it with Gandalf in the second chapter of Fellowship of the Ring, where Gandalf is sitting by Frodo’s fireplace telling Frodo the history of the ring:

‘Last night you began to tell me strange things about my ring, Gandalf,’ he said.  ‘And then you stopped, because you said that such matters were best left until daylight.  Don’t you think you had better finish now?’  and then,when reading to Frodo the writing on the ring:  The letters are Elvish, of an ancient mode, but the language is that of Mordor, which I will not utter here.

and again in the very next chapter when Pippin asks the elves about the Black Riders: let us not discuss this here; then later Gildor speaks privately about the riders to Frodo.  Throughout Lord of the Rings, people are cautioned not to speak about certain things openly: Gandalf speaking the words of Mordor at the Council of Elrond, for instance.  After Sam questioned the amount of time they had spent in Lothlorien, Legolas talked about the slow passing of time in Lorien, and then this interesting dialogue where Frodo speaks too casually about the elven ring:

“But the wearing is slow in Lorien,” said Frodo.  “The power of the Lady is on it.  Rich are the hours, though short they seem, in Caras Galadhon, where Galadriel wields the Elven-ring.”

“That should not have been said outside Lorien, not even to me,” said Aragorn.  “Speak no more of it!”

Clearly, these great matters are so grave, as to require certain spaces or places where they can be talked about.  Words, and especially spoken words, seemingly have the power of blessing and cursing, and such power is more than just a mere wish or hopeful thought.  Similarly, in C.S. Lewis’ Chronicles of Narnia, the “deplorable word” in The Magician’s Nephew was what destroyed the world Charn.  We are never told the specific “word” but the idea again is of spoken words having power to destroy a world.

In our world, of course, it was the spoken word of God that created this world.  God spoke the world into existence.  And He later came in the flesh, the incarnate Word.  I think also of the ancient world, in which people who put great importance on spoken curses (as well as blessings).  The Old Testament especially is replete with references to spoken curses as well as blessings.  Jacob did not want a curse to fall on him, for deceiving Isaac and claiming to be Esau – Rebecca allowed the curse to fall on her instead.  Then in Judges 17 we see a son greatly concerned because of a curse his mother had spoken, regarding silver that had been taken from her.  We also have God’s promised blessings and curses put on the people of God (Leviticus and Deuteronomy), as part of their covenant with God, and again these blessings and curses were to be spoken publicly before the assembly.

As for Tolkien’s idea of words not being spoken in particular places, but sometimes allowed in other, more private and prepared places, I am also reminded of an interesting point from early church history.  The early church had the writings which became the New Testament canon, writings which were circulated among believers and available to unbelievers.  But they also had their own traditions, and particular practices, which were only dealt with orally, and only in their places of worship.  As application of Jesus’ words in Matthew 7 about not casting your pearls before swine, the early church leaders considered certain matters of such special, sacred importance, that these teachings were not to be written down and available to the unbelieving (swine and dogs) and were not for discussion (verbally) with unbelievers, but were only for the catechumens and the church congregations, as in this excerpt from St. Basil (4th century):

Of the dogmas and sermons preserved in the Church, certain ones we have from written instruction, and certain ones we have received from the Apostolic [oral] Tradition, handed down in secret [i.e., discreetly]. Both the one and the other have one and the same authority for piety, and no one who is even the least informed in the decrees of the Church will contradict this. … Is this not the silent and secret tradition? … Is it not from this unpublished and unspoken teaching which our Fathers have preserved in a silence inaccessible to curiosity and scrutiny, because they were thoroughly instructed to preserve in silence the sanctity of the Mysteries [i.e., Sacraments]? For what propriety would there be to proclaim in writing a teaching concerning that which it is not allowed for the unbaptized even to behold?

And summarized in a current-day look at this early church history  (Know the Faith, by Michael Shanbour):

Generally, however, dogma was neither preached to unbelievers nor written down for fear that it would be misunderstood, trivialized, and mocked, subjected to petty curiosity that is demeaning to holy things. As St. Basil the Great puts it, “Reverence for the mysteries is best encouraged by silence.” Although counterintuitive to our modern minds, the Church was very reticent to “throw pearls to swine” (Matt. 7:6), lest that which is holy be trampled upon. . . . Therefore the dogmas of the Church were purposely kept discreet and unwritten. Catechumens were instructed not to write down on paper what they were hearing and not to share dogma with unbelievers. The Church’s more intimate teachings and many of her practices were taught only by word of mouth or not spoken of at all until one had entered the Church and experienced her inner life. Even the Lord’s Prayer was not taught to catechumens (let alone unbelievers) until after or just prior to their baptism.

The parallels between the ancient world and ideas brought out in Tolkien’s Lord of the Rings (and in C.S. Lewis’ Narnia series) continue to fascinate me.  So much of what made Tolkien’s writing so successful and well-received, comes from his expertise in the history and literature of the ancient, pre-modern world.

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Enchantment in a classic-style Fairy Tale: The Horse and His Boy (Chronicles of Narnia)

In my re-reading through The Chronicles of Narnia, it strikes me that the stories involve a great deal of action and travel and places outside of Narnia itself.  Only three out of the seven Narnia tales actually have the majority of action taking place in the land of Narnia:  the first two (The Lion, The Witch, and the Wardrobe, and Prince Caspian) and the very last one (The Last Battle).  In between, Lewis first introduces the islands at sea (Voyage of the Dawn Treader), then the land to the north of Narnia, as well as under Narnia (The Silver Chair).  The next installment takes us back to the “golden age” of the rule of High King Peter along with King Edmund and Queens Susan and Lucy — and to lands south of Narnia.  In The Horse and His Boy we are introduced to Archenland and especially Calormen.

Nearing the end of The Horse and His Boy, the wonder and enchantment are back, and appreciation for the story.  The plot is more complex than the earliest books, and introduces more human characters in Narnia’s neighboring countries — extra details not in the first books.  In this enjoyable story, we have several themes intertwined:  a variation on Greek classic literature (Oedipus),in a positive spin, and the rags to riches motif as well, for Shasta/Cor (somewhat like Charles’ Dickens tale of Oliver Twist, though much briefer and with the fantasy elements of another world with talking animals) combined with other characters who start out high and noble and must learn what it is to be humbled and abased.

In this story also we especially see God’s hand of Providence, and Aslan’s purpose in directing the lives of the two human children and the two talking horses:  the lion that appears (seemingly two lions) for the purpose of forcing the two traveling groups to meet and work together (Shasta with Bree, and Hwin with Aravis); the cat that comforts Shasta alone at the tombs, which later turns into a lion to ward off the jackals; and then especially the great scene in which Shasta rides slowly along on the dumb (non-talking) horse, left behind and alone, yet with the Presence of Someone, the great Aslan.  Here we also have the recurring theme of each individual’s story, and to be content with that.  Just as Aslan had rebuked Lucy for eavesdropping (by means of magic) on a conversation between two of her classmates in Voyage of the Dawn Treader, so here Aslan tempers Shasta’s curiosity as to why Aslan the Lion had attacked Aravis and whipped her back:  “Child,” said the Voice, “I am telling you your story, not hers.  I tell no-one any story but his own.”  As we later find out, of course, Aslan does tell Aravis her own story.

Modern critics no doubt find much to criticize in The Horse and His Boy, especially the “racist” treatment of the dark-skinned people of Calormen, who are presented as the stereotype of uncouth Arabians. For C.S. Lewis of course, the characterization of the Calormene also, and significantly, is that of a pagan nation, spiritually dark, without hope, without God, and thus showing the fruits of such a world: slavery, cruelty, and sadness.  Some of Lewis’s writing style and words now appear dated, in part due to the corruption and perversion of some of our English words in the years since Lewis wrote in the 1950s.  Yet Lewis’ main point throughout is a contrast between a pagan land (which bears some similarities to our folk tales of Arabians and dark-skinned people of the Middle East and Africa) and Christian lands (of the North, which was Lewis’ primary love as well, things of a northern quality).  The scene of the Narnian rulers entering Tashbaan, indeed, provides the stark contrast, of the joy and happiness of the Narnians.

Their tunics were of fine, bright, hardy colours–woodland green, or gay yellow, or fresh blue.  Instead of turbans they wore steel or silver caps, some of them set with jewels… instead of being grave and mysterious like most Calormenes, they walked with a swing and let their arms and shoulders go free, and chatted and laughed.  One was whistling.  You could see that they were ready to be friends with anyone who was friendly, and didn’t give a fig for anyone who wasn’t.  Shasta thought he had never seen anything so lovely in his life.

More could be said, regarding the many plot points in The Horse and His Boy, such as the contrast of wisdom with folly and the foolish characters, as well as the pride in Bree and Aravis.  How does this world have such thriving communities of humans, with a clear history of many years, in a world that (according to The Lion, The Witch, and the Wardrobe) has mostly talking beasts and was under a spell of 100 years of winter until only a few years ago (15 years ago at most)?  The answer of course is provided with the creation of these other lands Archenland and Calormen.  Only Narnia had been under the winter spell all those years, and thus it is now becoming a power to be reckoned with  (according to the leaders of Calormen).  Narnia’s past of endless winter is well integrated into this story, with references to it from Aravis’ city friend Lasaraleen.

This, the 5th published book in The Chronicles of Narnia (and the third book according to Narnian chronology), is an enjoyable story, escapism with a lot of elements that make a great fairy tale story.  It would be nice to see a movie or stage dramatization of this; apparently it has been done in some places as a stage production.  It was not included in the BBC mini-series.  Apparently something of a movie has been made in recent years, or attempted at least.  But usually, it seems, movie efforts at the full Chronicles of Narnia series get stalled after completion of the earlier books.

 

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