Mount Doom: Responding to Despair with Truth (a Psalm 42:5 Moment)

On this Good Friday, with the chapter “Mount Doom” on the Lenten reading schedule for the Lord of the Rings, we see so many things that show Frodo as a type of Christ, bearing his cross and the cares of all of Middle Earth (the ring), complete with Sam in the role of Simon of Cyrene, carrying Frodo to the end, with the burden itself not falling on Sam.

One other intriguing thing from this chapter, though, particularly speaks to me in the reading this year: the conversation that Sam has with himself, his final answer to despair.  For here we see Sam actually talking to and responding to the despair in his heart, responding with firm answers grounded in truth – a vivid example of the truth behind Psalm 42:5, “Why, my soul, are you downcast?  Why so disturbed within me?  Put your hope in God, for I will yet praise Him, my Savior and my God.”

I first learned this precept several years ago, while dealing with depression, and reading Martyn Lloyd Jones’ work “Spiritual Depression,” which points out a valuable tool for good mental health:

Martin Lloyd Jones:  Have you realized that most of your unhappiness in life is due to the fact that you are listening to yourself instead of talking to yourself?  Take those thoughts that come to you the moment you wake up in the morning.  You have not originated them, but they start talking to you, they bring back the problems of yesterday, etc.  Somebody is talking.  Who is talking to you?  Your self is talking to you.  Now this man’s treatment was this; instead of allowing this self to talk to him, he starts talking to himself, ‘Why art thou cast down, O my soul?’ he asks.  His soul had been depressing him, crushing him.  So he stands up and says, “Self, listen for a  moment.  I will speak to you.’

Sam Gamgee, the real hero of Lord of the Rings, shows here an application of this, how to combat the despair when events have finally, almost, reached the conclusion of the quest.  They have almost come to the fires of Mount Doom, to cast the cursed ring into the fires.

He could not sleep and he held a debate with himself. ‘Well, come now, we’ve done better than you hoped,’ he said sturdily. ‘Began well anyway. I reckon we crossed half the distance before we stopped. One more day will do it.’ And then he paused.

‘Don’t be a fool, Sam Gamgee,’ came an answer in his own voice. ‘He won’t go another day like that, if he moves at all. And you can’t go on much longer giving him all the water and most of the food.’

‘I can go on a good way though, and I will.’

‘Where to?’

‘To the Mountain, of course.’

‘But what then, Sam Gamgee, what then? When you get there, what are you going to do? He won’t be able to do anything for himself.’

To his dismay Sam realized that he had not got an answer to this. He had no clear idea at all. Frodo had not spoken much to him of his errand, and Sam only knew vaguely that the Ring had somehow to be put into the fire. ‘The Cracks of Doom,’ he muttered, the old name rising to his mind. ‘Well, if Master knows how to find them, I don’t.’

‘There you are!’ came the answer. ‘It’s all quite useless. He said so himself. You are the fool, going on hoping and toiling. You could have lain down and gone to sleep together days ago, if you hadn’t been so dogged. But you’ll die just the same, or worse. You might just as well lie down now and give it up. You’ll never get to the top anyway.’

‘I’ll get there, if I leave everything but my bones behind,’ said Sam. ‘And I’ll carry Mr. Frodo up myself, if it breaks my back and heart. So stop arguing!’

Sam keeps responding, trying to answer the voice of doom within himself, even when he doesn’t have the answer, or only has a partial answer.  When the next question comes, he then responds to it.  Finally he puts down the despair:  even to leaving “everything “but my bones behind,” and even to carrying Frodo up himself, though “it breaks my back and heart.  So stop arguing!”

It indeed is rather like the sayings of modern psychological advice, such as “just say no” campaign or “stop it!” (thinking of the comedic scene from Bob Newhart) — developed to the full.  Responding is not the easy thing to do, it is far easier to just listen to oneself.  Sam at this point is starved and thirsty, in a desert land without these basic physical comforts, in full ascetic mode that most of us will never experience, the dire physical conditions perhaps experienced by desert monks.  And yet the task must be done, the quest must be achieved.  It takes many replies from Sam, to many despairing thoughts, to finally conquer.  Yet  by doing this, by active effort and choice, Sam does overcome.  A few paragraphs later we read of Sam:

To his surprise he felt tired but lighter, and his head seemed clear again. No more debates disturbed his mind. He knew all the arguments of despair and would not listen to them. His will was set, and only death would break it. He felt no longer either desire or need of sleep, but rather of watchfulness.

Through Sam’s active choices, his determined will, he was given grace and his mind was set at ease.  We cannot continue solely on our own power.  The Psalmist’s answer to the “why so downcast” is to put your hope in God.  But we are not to be passive, merely listening to the voice of despair; responding to it with the truth must be done.  Sam has attained to the exhortation of 1 Peter 5:8: – “Be sober-minded; be watchful. Your adversary the devil prowls around like a roaring lion, seeking someone to devour — and of James 4:7 “Submit yourselves, then, to God. Resist the devil, and he will flee from you.”

Here in Sam’s experience is an example, an illustration, for us all, and reminder to continue in the fight as soldiers in the cause of Christ, the very real spiritual warfare.  “For we are not ignorant of his (the enemy’s) devices.” (2 Cor. 2:11)

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Elrond the Priestly, Fatherly Figure: The Fellowship Sets Out

As I continue through the Lenten Lord of the Rings reading schedule, again so many themes pop up.  A few observations now, from the first three chapters of book 2 of Fellowship of the Ring — the chapters set in Rivendell, before the Fellowship departs.

As I’ve learned more about the ancient Christian faith, including the role of priests within both Eastern Orthodoxy and Roman Catholicism (a particular reference point for J.R.R. Tolkien from his early life), I notice Elrond depicted as a priest and father-figure, the ideal that Tolkien was certainly familiar with–such as the priest who became his guardian after his mother died.

Just as such priests provide direction and counsel to the young people under their spiritual care, as to what spiritual activities each person should attempt, so Elrond provides the initial guidance and blessing to the Fellowship. Elrond considers who should and should not be a part of the Company, weighing various factors such as representing the many free peoples, as well as the abilities of each person, and their maturity (or lack thereof). He hears Frodo affirm his previous vow, to be the Ring-bearer. Similar to the role of a father-figure or priest, Elrond feels that the younger hobbits should assist in a way more suited to their abilities, to help strengthen the Shire in its peril; and Elrond’s heart is against including the youngest hobbit, Pippin, in the Fellowship. Gandalf advises differently — to consider their friendship rather than their might — and when Pippin insists on going, that unless Elrond locks him up in prison or sends him home tied in a sack, he will follow the Company, Elrond concedes the matter, though without a strong blessing: Let it be so then. You shall go, Elrond sighs. Iluvatar’s Providence overrules (Romans 8:28) in the end, and it is through the course of what later happens to Merry and Pippin that other great, unexpected benefits come — but in the meantime, Pippin especially later has his time for regret: ‘I wish I had taken Elrond’s advice,’ muttered Pippin to Sam. ‘I am no good after all. There is not enough of the breed of Bandobras the Bullroarer in me: these howls freeze my blood. I don’t ever remember feeling so wretched.’

Elrond continues to advise and pronounce blessing on the Company, including this charge and counsel just before they depart:

The Ring-bearer is setting out on the Quest of Mount Doom. On him alone is any charge laid: neither to cast away the Ring, nor to deliver it to any servant of the Enemy nor indeed to let any handle it, save members of the Company and the Council, and only then in gravest need. The others go with him as free companions, to help him on his way. You may tarry, come back, or turn aside into other paths, as chance allows. The further you go, the less easy will it be to withdraw; yet no oath or bond is laid on you to go further than you will. For you do not yet know the strength of your hearts, and you cannot foresee what each may meet upon the road.

Clearly, many in the Company do not know the strength of their own hearts, and will be tested as they journey south. Pippin soon realized the weakness of his own heart. Gimli later found the greatest testing of his heart, in his desire to remain in Lothlorien, with the Lady Galadriel. Sam must choose more than once, between another strong love — the pony Bill, and then his father and the Shire in trouble — and staying with Frodo. Of Boromir, the verse of St. Paul in 1 Corinthians 10:12 is fitting: “Let him who thinks he stands take heed, lest he fall.”

Frodo will treasure up the words of the wise — of Elrond, as well as Gandalf – at later critical moments of his quest, for the decision he must make. He remembers Elrond when he later meets up with Faramir: you may find friends upon your way when you least look for it.

Through their experiences on the road together, they will all meet challenges and temptations and difficulties. Yet Elrond, the priestly, fatherly figure back at Rivendell, gives them his blessing as they set out into the unknown:

Look not too far ahead! But go now with good hearts! Farewell, and may the blessing of Elves and Men and all Free Folk go with you. May the stars shine upon your faces!

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Hobbits in the Shire: Iluvatar’s Providence and Protection

The Lenten Lord of the Rings blog has some great thoughts and themes for consideration, from the first chapters of Fellowship of the Ring, the adventures of Frodo and his friends starting in the Shire, then the taking on of the quest, and then as they travel through the Shire.  In the quest motif, from its beginning through later events, it is indeed easy to see parallels to the experience of Lent (as a type of pilgrimage or journey), as well as more generally to our Christian lives as pilgrims in this world, on a journey passing through (this world is not our home) as our journey takes us through times of joy and gladness, and feasting, as well as difficulties.  The themes noted at the Lenten LOTR site (see posts The Real Choice for day 2 and A Slow Start for day 3 readings) include the value of conversations and different types of conversations, festive holiday times, good people versus dangerous, evil people, mercy, the quality of good friends such as Elfs, and even the theme of mushrooms as an embodiment of home.

Another theme that sticks out to me, is the work of Providence, and how the hand of Iluvatar is working to bring various characters onto the scene, and often in the nick of time to avert disaster.  If the evil Sauron were the only power, along with the natural course of events, Frodo with the Ring should have been caught by the Black Rider long before they reached Buckland.  It is as though something restrains the Black Rider each time.  The Black Rider shows up to visit Hamfast Gamgee, instead of coming next door where Frodo is.  The first time along the road, Frodo almost puts on the Ring, but just then the Rider backs away.  The next time, they are saved when a company of elves “just happens” to show up along the road at the same moment as a Black Rider.  Obviously it works as part of a story, the sub-creation.  If things occurred as they “naturally” ought to have — and as it often seems in real life, where we don’t always see the “happy coincidences” that occur in fiction — the story would have ended even before the quest had started.

Yet the same quality, of people arriving, and unexpected events, occurs in the many stories in our world’s history, and in some of the great events told in the Bible.  The story of David and his band of followers, pursued by King Saul and his army, has some similarities.  One time, Saul’s men are very close to capturing David, when a messenger intervenes, such that Saul and company must back off and go elsewhere.  Saul is kept from harming David time and time again.  Satan can only do as much harm to Job as God will allow; there is a restraint on the worker of evil.  Wars among nations have gone differently due to seemingly small, unexpected events, such as the betrayal plans of Benedict Arnold falling into the hands of the American side.  When Queen Esther asked for a one-day delay answer to King Ahasuerus, the next night and day of Providential events changed the outcome.

So in our daily lives, often God brings people to us, at the “right” moment — a “chance” meeting with an acquaintance, an encouraging word at the right time when the person is depressed, information from one person is shared (in a blog post, or other online post) that answers another person’s particular situation.  One person’s need for a job to be done is filled in the person with the right skills, there at the needed time. Unexpected hospitality comes, such as Frodo experiences from both the elves (and particularly Gildor) and Farmer Maggot, who are provided at the right time, companions for the situations at hand.  Through all of this we marvel at the providence of Iluvatar.

 

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The Lord of the Rings Prologue: Table of Nations, Pipeweed, and Other Matters

Continuing from my last post, an introduction to the Lenten Lord of the Rings, for today, a look at the Prologue to The Lord of the Rings.   As noted at the Lenten Lord of the Rings site, we can relate to many general ideas brought out here: contentment versus difficulty, beginnings, calendars, and what things are important in defining a people-group (such as Hobbits in this case) such as their clans and the importance of family relationships.

The Hobbit origins are described in a way similar to our early history, even with three different branches of hobbits:  Harfoots, Stoors, and Fallohides, and how they spread out over a region.  The origins and descriptions have resemblance with our earliest history such as the Table of Nations in Genesis 10.  Here, the different groups of Hobbits described in terms of key characteristics: slight physical variations (the closest that Lord of the Rings gets to the idea of races of men), and which ones were friendly with Elves, which ones preferred to stay in one place, which ones preferred water, or were skilled in handicrafts.

An attentive reading of the Prologue tells us several things about what will happen to the characters.  For all the critics’ comments about Tolkien’s abundance of unmarried young men and under-representation of women and families, here we learn that Merry and Pippin did (later) have families, of which they are heads. A great-grandson of Pippin is mentioned, as are Sam’s descendants, and a grandson of Faramir.  Without giving out too many spoilers (for those who have yet to read the story, or who have never even seen any movie adaptations), Tolkien reveals that Elrond and Galadriel had since departed, with Celeborn remaining behind in Rivendell, but “there is no record of the day when at last he (Celeborn) sought the Grey Havens.”  By the absence of mention of Frodo in later years, we have implied what will later be revealed, that Frodo will not be around in those future years in Middle Earth.

The different characters and groups provide the variety of life and wonder, reflecting the great variety that Iluvatar has set into our own world as well.  Meriadoc is a historian, and Peregrin one with librarian tendencies, to collect manuscripts.  The people of Middle Earth, like our Medieval Age, have their scribes.  Unlike the history of the Elves (brought out in The Silmarillion), the Hobbits’ life circumstance has been overwhelmingly one of peace and leisure — the trials of plague and war have occurred, but long ago beyond their memory.  Yet for all the lack of challenge, a life most similar in our world to certain times of medieval Europe and especially of the relatively peaceful and prosperous 19th century Victorian England, “ease and peace had left this people still curiously tough.”  The Hobbits embody the ideal of Christendom and Christian people, showing us a quality not realized in human history, yet a key characteristic of a spiritual people, of those who are not in bondage merely to the cares of this world — and also the Lenten spirit of turning from the world and giving up the normal, comfortable things of life:  “they were, perhaps, so unwearyingly fond of good things not least because they could, when put to it, do without them, and could survive rough handling by grief, foe, or weather in a way that astonished those that did not know them well and looked no further than their bellies and their well-fed faces.”

I continue to marvel at the inner consistency of every detail within the story of Middle Earth.  Tobacco pipe-smoking is something associated with our early-modern world (including the early 20th century in England), yet a New World product from the West, native to North America.  Tolkien has an explanation even for this anomaly, in the words of Meriadoc:  “observations that I have made on my own many journeys south have convinced me that the weed itself is not native to our parts of the world, but came northward from the lower Anduin, whither it was, I suspect, originally brought over Sea by the men of Westernesse.”  The pleasure that men have enjoyed in their smokes is of course conveyed as a relaxing event for hobbits and even Gandalf the wizard.  My recent reading of a travel journal from a young British man who walked through Europe in the early 1930s (see this post)  also shows some of the enjoyment that Tolkien, also a British man of that time and place, experienced from “pipeweed,” as shown in a few excerpts from the traveler, then-19 year old Patrick Leigh Fermor:

The weather had changed so much, we could lie on the grass there, talking and smoking cigars and basking under a cloudless sky like the lizards, watching the water flow past on its way to the Danube.

I found a hollow lined with leaves among the willow-trunks about three yards from the water and after a supper of Kövecses-remains and a new loaf from my baker friend and watercress from a stream, I stuck a candle on a stone to fill in my diary. It burned without a tremor. Then I lay, gazing upwards and smoking with my rucksack for a pillow, wrapped in my greatcoat in case of cold later on.

The diary lays a lot of stress on cigar- and pipe-smoking; I had forgotten the latter. I think they were both slightly self-conscious symbols of emancipation and maturity. I always seem to be ‘puffing away thoughtfully’ or ‘enjoying a quiet pipe,’ in these pages.

As far as I know, Tolkien never wrote up such an origins explanation for another new world item in his pre-historic world: potatoes.  But potatoes get less mention in Lord of the Rings than the tobacco.

I had not read the Prologue to Lord of the Rings in a few years, so today’s read was a great refresher.  Up for tomorrow:  chapters 1 and 2 of Fellowship of the Ring.  I’ll be noting interesting thoughts as I continue reading, though I may not have the time for blog posts for each day in this Lenten reading journey.

 

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Lord of the Rings 2023: A Lenten Reading

As I mentioned last fall in this post about Ritual Participation, there is a blog dedicated to calendar readings of the Lord of the Rings each year during Lent.  Over the years I have done several annual readings, not every year, but sometimes for a few years in a row, such as when I returned to Lord of the Rings in 2016 (after absence of several years) and then read through The Hobbit and Lord of the Rings again in 2017 and 2018 (in audio format), followed by reading through the Lord of the Rings: One Volume Kindle edition during the first half of 2022.

It is nearing the start for the 2023 Lenten Lord of the Rings reading — it starts this coming Monday, February 13, with the first reading in the Prologue –On Hobbits, and other matters.   Over the next two months I’ll be reading per this schedule – a fast pace though do-able with a combination of audio and print versions.  Every reading it seems, brings out new considerations, great themes and devotional thoughts.  Since I’ve been getting an intro to Tolkien scholarship (Tolkien: A Celebration, and Following Gandalf, plus several podcast episodes of Amon Sul) as well this last year, it’ll be interesting to see what associations come to my mind, what new insights I’ll discover as I read it this time.

Check out this blog post with links to various devotionals from the first reading: many Lenten thoughts here, from the content of the prologue, regarding our comfort and being sheltered; perseverance; the things that define us; beginnings, and Calendars.

This recent essay from Joseph Pearce at The Imaginative Conservative, The Death and Resurrection of Bilbo Baggins, is also interesting — more particular to The Hobbit and Bilbo Baggins, but also fitting as about Hobbits and Bilbo’s character before and after his great adventure.

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Light that Grows and Increases: The Phial of Galadriel

A year-long weekly devotional I’m reading this year, features selected writings from the Early Church Fathers.  In Ancient Christian Devotional: A Year of Weekly Readings, Lectionary Cycle A (at Amazon, and also at Abe Books here), week 22 has this interesting quote from Bede (known as the Venerable Bede, from early medieval England), in his commentary on 1 Peter:  “He [Jesus] comes to us daily to visit the light which he has given us, in order to tend it and to help it grow. This is why he is called not only the shepherd but also the guardian of our souls.”

Light is one of the Bible’s metaphors, directly referenced by Christ:  I am the light of the world  (John 8:12).  We often think of light as a metaphor for illumination, the light bulb going off in our head “Aha!” moments.  The Bible describes light similarly, referring to Holy Spirit illumination.  And yes, we all know by experience, the small flicker of a candle, and the light that increases and spreads, dispelling darkness.  The sun at its rising just begins to light up the darkness, but soon the dark of night passes, and the sun blazes up at mid-day as it continues its path across the sky.  Psalm 19:4-6   gives such a wonderful description:

In the heavens he has pitched a tent for the sun.
It is like a bridegroom coming from his home; it rejoices like an athlete running a course.
It rises from one end of the heavens and circles to their other end;

Returning to Bede, and the idea of light that God gives us and that He tends it to help it (the light) grow:  I cannot help but be reminded here, of the scene that J.R.R. Tolkien depicts for us near the end of The Two Towers, of Frodo and Sam in Shelob’s Lair.  This gift (among many) of Galadriel — symbolic of grace and special gifts given us by God — mentioned previously in Fellowship of the Ring, takes on great prominence in the tunnel, when the hobbits remember this gift and start to use it in that desperate hour.  For this chapter gives us a taste, a powerful picture in the mind, of the power of God and His workings, how He gives us light and tends it and helps it to grow in our lives.  For Frodo and Sam, like us, have the spiritual gift given, along with the Holy Spirit power (symbolized in the elves of ancient days).  Note that along with the phial itself, both Frodo and Sam are also found here to be speaking in tongues:  words in the elvish language, words they do not know or understand, come from their mouths, along with the power of the light itself.

Similar to sunlight, the phial of Galadriel starts small, then growing to greater light, when Frodo first reaches for it.  Also interesting, in this first scene and later in the chapter, the light’s power and effectiveness varies, either increasing or decreasing in intensity based on the bearer’s experience of hope and strength of will/spirit:

Slowly his hand went to his bosom, and slowly he held aloft the Phial of Galadriel.  For a moment it glimmered, faint as a rising star struggling in heavy earthward mists, and then as its power waxed, and hope grew in Frodo’s mind, it began to burn, and kindled to a silver flame, a minute heart of dazzling light….  The darkness receded from it until it seemed to shine in the centre of a globe of airy crystal, and the hand that held it sparkled with white fire.

As we soon learn, the monster was not immediately deterred.  Soon, Frodo and Sam, horror-stricken, began slowly to back away … Frodo’s hand wavered, and slowly the Phial drooped.  Frodo and Sam momentarily escape, and then the phial serves as a basic light, at the level that we might consider a lantern or flashlight, as they run down the tunnel and then, while Sam holds the phial (rather like a lantern), Frodo has enough light to cut the cords of Shelob’s web for their next escape.

Then in the climactic scene, where Sam the hero shines forth, we observe:   

As if his indomitable spirit had set its potency in motion, the glass blazed suddenly like a white torch in his hand. It flamed like a star that leaping from the firmament sears the dark air with intolerable light.  No such terror out of heaven had ever burned in Shelob’s face before.  The beams of it entered into her wounded head and scored it with unbearable pain, and the dreadful infection of light spread from eye to eye.

These great descriptions, of light, and hope, and beauty abound in Tolkien’s Middle Earth, among the many reasons we so love to visit — and then to return to our world, strengthened and renewed in hope.

 

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