The Tolkien “Canon?”: J.R.R. Tolkien the Sub-Creator

The more I learn about the early Christian church, and the world of the ancients, the better I understand and appreciate J.R.R. Tolkien, The Lord of the Rings, and his full legendarium.  One interesting aspect of Tolkien’s world, similar to that of Holy Scripture, is the question of “canon” and what it includes.  For Tolkien’s massive collection about Middle Earth has an interesting historical feature in common with the word of God and our Bibles, something that truly highlights the “sub-creation” aspect of Tolkien’s work and his role as a “sub-creator.”

As we know, the Bible is a collection of many books that were written at many different times and places, and for which exist numerous manuscript versions with some manuscript differences.  Similarly, Tolkien’s world actually consists of multiple writings, from numerous times during Tolkien’s life — starting around the time of World War I, up until shortly before his death; he continued revisions, creating different versions of stories.  In our real world, in ancient times Christians worked with many different books within the full collection of what would later be bound together as “The Bible,” forming an official “canon” after several hundred years; and in modern times, scholars have studied the variations in Bible manuscripts within this canon collection.  Again, within the Tolkien fandom world, many people have tried to come up with an official, definitive canon of Tolkien’s legendarium, examining the differences in the different manuscript versions of Tolkien’s stories.  After all, J.R.R. Tolkien’s massive writing collection — of which he never discarded old versions — became a lifetime work for his son Christopher, to sift through all of the writings and publish the various works such as Unfinished Tales, Lost Tales, and numerous volumes of the History of Middle Earth.  Note these web pages that talk about the Tolkien canon: Tolkien Gateway Canon and an Ask Middle Earth post.  Note this observation from the second link:

This is a question that every reader has to – or gets to, depending on your point of view – answer for themselves. Some readers believe that whichever version was published in one of the “main” works (The Hobbit, LotR, and The Silmarillion) is canon. Others believe that whichever version Tolkien wrote last is canon. Others go on a case-by-case basis, essentially choosing their favorite versions of each story to be canon. And of course there’s the Global Theory, which argues that they’re all canon. It’s entirely up to you, and (no matter what anybody might tell you) there really isn’t a wrong answer.

As mentioned on one of the older Amon Sul podcasts, when we look at Tolkien’s own words within the story, we see that even Tolkien himself did not have a final, definitive version of all the tales, in his own imagination — as though the world existed on its own, outside of Tolkien’s imagination.  Tolkien himself seemed to be content with some level of “mystery” and lack of conclusion regarding these legends within Middle Earth.  Here I recall also, from reading The Letters of J.R.R. Tolkien, places where Tolkien described certain characters coming onto the scene, and his own reaction to these new characters — such as Faramir, in letter 66:

A new character has come on the scene (I am sure I did not invent him, I did not even want him, though I like him, but there he came walking into the woods of Ithilien): Faramir, the brother of Boromir – and he is holding up the ‘catastrophe’ by a lot of stuff about the history of Gondor and Rohan (with some very sound reflections no doubt on martial glory and true glory): but if he goes on much more a lot of him will have to be removed to the appendices

Regarding the uncertainty, though, we note for instance in The Silmarillion, places where the writing simply says “Some say that…”  or “others say…” such as these excerpts:

Some say that it was Mandos himself, and no lesser herald of Manwë.

Aforetime it was held among the Elves in Middle-earth that dying the Dwarves returned to the earth and the stone of which they were made; yet that is not their own belief. For they say that Aulë the Maker, whom they call Mahal, cares for them, and gathers them to Mandos in halls set apart;

What may befall their spirits after death the Elves know not. Some say that they too go to the halls of Mandos; but their place of waiting there is not that of the Elves, and Mandos under Ilúvatar alone save Manwë knows whither they go after the time of recollection in those silent halls beside the Outer Sea.

Thus, we can know with certainty the vast majority of the story of Middle Earth, allowing for some variations and different versions on minor points.  But the idea of a “canon” (something that has great precision,100% defined and conclusive) may not be the best approach to Tolkien’s world.  As mentioned in my last post , there is instead a type of ritual participation within the community of Tolkien fandom, a ritual that we can return to with repeated readings of Lord of the Rings through the years, for instance.

In a similar way, the early Christian church had a number of various scrolls that were considered part of the sacred writings, which were circulated, yet would not be bound together into one volume until many centuries later.  This collection of writings — which included many books that are now considered Deuterocanonical, or as “apocrypha” (by Protestants)  — served along with apostolic tradition for the early Christians, as what they shared in their ritual participation, their Christian communal experience.

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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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