Lord of the Rings: Frodo, Sam, and Modernist, “Scientism” Thinking

In my Lenten Lord of the Rings journey, I’ll be starting on book 5, the Return of the King, tomorrow (which is also Tolkien Reading Day), after finishing The Two Towers (The Choices of Master Samwise) today.  I’ve noted several interesting things during this read of Lord of the Rings, for upcoming blog posts.  For this time, some observations regarding Frodo – some modernist tendencies, and his understanding of men.

Frodo, in contrast to Sam, acts as a bridge to us modern readers and our modern way of thinking – of the rational, material, logical approach to life, looking (mainly) at secondary causes.  For example, after the hobbits (in The Taming of Smeagol), use the elven rope that Sam brought along to get down a steep cliff, Sam is dismayed at having to leave the rope behind.  When Sam says “farewell” to the rope with one last tug, it suddenly falls down, returning to him.  Frodo insists that either the rope tore from its knot at the top of the cliff, or that the knot came undone – the only two options, seemingly.  The other end is not frayed, so Frodo concludes that the knot itself wasn’t tight to begin with.  Sam objects, noting his own skill with ropes and knots (as in the family tradition), and reveals to us the third option:  the rope had “elven magic” in it and came to him at his bidding.

Later, in Frodo’s conversation with Faramir, Frodo questions the story Faramir tells of seeing the elven boat with Boromir laid in it in funeral state.  Frodo’s skepticism connects us to modern times and the modern tendency to focus on the secondary causes, neglecting the reality of the power of God, the God who is still present and who still performs miracles.

‘Yet how could such a thing have happened in truth?’ asked Frodo. ‘For no boat could have been carried over the stony hills from Tol Brandir; and Boromir purposed to go home across the Entwash and the fields of Rohan. And yet how could any vessel ride the foam of the great falls and not founder in the boiling pools, though laden with water?’

Faramir reminds him of this power, manifested in Middle Earth through the elves:

‘You passed through the Hidden Land,’ said Faramir, ‘but it seems that you little understood its power. If Men have dealings with the Mistress of Magic who dwells in the Golden Wood, then they may look for strange things to follow.

Somewhat related to this, we also see that the hobbits have less discernment (at least in their head knowledge) regarding men, than men of the halflings.  It was at Rivendell, after the adventures with Strider in the wilderness, and thinking about Strider, that Frodo admitted to Gandalf:

I didn’t know that any of the Big People were like that. I thought, well, that they were just big, and rather stupid: kind and stupid like Butterbur; or stupid and wicked like Bill Ferny.

‘You don’t know much even about them, if you think old Barliman is stupid,’ said Gandalf. … But there are few left in Middle-earth like Aragorn son of Arathorn. The race of the Kings from over the Sea is nearly at an end. It may be that this War of the Ring will be their last adventure.’

In later conversation with Faramir, as Sam began to trust Faramir he spoke more freely, and  slipped out the news about Boromir and the Enemy’s ring.  Again it is Frodo’s head knowledge thinking that objects, “Sam!”  As Faramir points out to them, you are less judges of Men than I of Halflings, and to Sam, your heart is shrewd as well as faithful, and saw clearer than your eyes.  For strange though it may seem, it was safe to declare this to me.

Throughout both The Hobbit and Lord of the Rings, the hobbits generally are considered a “bridge” from the mythic past to the modern world and modern-thinking readers.  Even within that framework, Tolkien developed specific traits, such as Frodo the rationalist, materialist-influenced thinker as contrasted with Sam the heart and intuition type of person.

And tomorrow is March 25: Tolkien Reading Day (see this page at The Tolkien Society), and a significant date in Middle Earth, the day that the One Ring was destroyed.  That date is also significant within classical, liturgical Christianity, as the Annunciation, the day of the announcement to Mary that she would be the mother of Jesus Christ.  It is also the date, in classical Christianity, of Christ’s death on the cross.  (March 25 is 9 months before December 25, thus the importance of March 25.)  An online search shows many people observing March 25, Tolkien Reading Day.  As one special activity, I attended an online event yesterday, a scholarly lecture series with speakers from Europe and America, on “Values Tolkien Teaches.”  The recording of that event will be available at this Youtube link soon.

For all of you my readers, what Tolkien work do you have plans to read, for March 25 Tolkien Reading Day?

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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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Lord of the Rings: What is the One Ring’s Power?

In Following Gandalf, Matthew Dickerson considers various references to the One Ring, to determine that its key power is domination, and specifically, the power to subdue and dominate other wills.  After all, Galadriel explicitly states this, that in order to use the Ring’s power, Frodo would need to train his will to the domination of others.  Continuing from that statement, Dickerson explores the powers of Sauron versus Gandalf, and the idea of each person’s free will and freedom to make choices.

Obviously at a surface level, the Ring also has the power to make a person invisible, as Bilbo discovered to his delight in The Hobbit.  Gandalf describes the One Ring as able to dominate and control the other rings, as the ‘master’ or ‘controlling’ ring, and so we see that the One Ring has the power over the other rings, of which only the three elven rings are still in existence at the end of the Third Age.

Then Galadriel tells Frodo — when he asks why he cannot see the others [rings] and know the thoughts of those that wear them — that before he could use that power he would need to become far stronger, and to train your will to the domination of others.

This description certainly indicates that dominating other wills is involved in using the power of the Ring – but as I see it, that is not the same as saying that the actual power of the Ring is the domination of others’ wills.  Galadriel instead implies that, after first having this ability to dominate others, then the ring bearer would have other powers.

Dickerson does include Tolkien’s own words on this topic, from The Letters of J.R.R. Tolkien:

The chief power (of all the rings alike) was the prevention or slowing of decay (i.e. “change” viewed as a regrettable thing), the preservation of what is desired or loved, or its semblance—this is more or less an Elvish motive.  But also they enhanced the natural powers of a possessor—thus approaching “magic,” a motive easily corruptible into evil, a lust for domination.

Following Gandalf then focuses on that last characteristic, a lust for domination, as being the trait of the One Ring.  Again, though that is part of it, Galadriel gives other details, a section not quoted by Matthew Dickerson.  Galadriel next explained that Frodo’s sight had already increased, as a result of wearing the Ring:  as one that has borne it on finger and seen that which is hidden, your sight is grown keener.  You saw the Eye of him that holds the Seven and the Nine.  And did you not see and recognize the ring upon my finger?  She then asks Sam, standing nearby – he had not seen the ring, nor even understood what Frodo and Galadriel were talking about.

Returning to the quote from Tolkien’s letters, though, the evidence indicates that the Ring’s power was expressed in the front end of that sentence:  enhanced the natural powers of a possessor.  Thus indeed, on several occasions we see Frodo’s enhanced observation and perception of events, such as what he saw of world events while standing on top of Amon Hen at the end of Fellowship of the Ring, and what Galadriel had observed, that Frodo saw the elven ring on her hand.  Also of note here, soon after Sam takes possession of the Ring, he experiences a great vision of temptation:

Wild fantasies arose in his mind; and he saw Samwise the Strong, Hero of the Age, striding with a flaming sword across the darkened land, and armies flocking to his call he marched to the overthrow of Barad-dur.  And then all the clouds rolled away, and the white sun shone, and at his command the vale of Gorgoroth became a garden of flowers and trees and brought forth fruit.  He had only to put on the Ring and claim it for his own, and all this could be.

Certainly this scene reveals the initial power of the Ring, on a new Ringbearer:  strong temptation, ideas that enhanced the natural powers of the possessor:  for Sam’s heart desired to be seen as a hero, and as a hero to turn desert wastelands into gardens, a temptation described in biblical terms reminiscent of the Old Testament prophecies about streams in the desert, about wastelands becoming forests, and so on.  The power for Sam, or at least the tempted power, would be to actually be able to accomplish those things—not the “motive easily corruptible into evil, a lust for domination” at the end of Tolkien’s sentence.

I further note that even without the Ring, Sauron dominated the wills of others.  Even without his Ring, in fact, he had already achieved that, as described in book six and what happened when Frodo put on the Ring at Mount Doom and claimed it for his own:

The Dark Lord was suddenly aware of him, and his Eye piercing all shadows looked across the plain to the door that he had made; …

From all his policies and webs of fear and treachery, from all his stratagems and wars his mind shook free; and throughout his realm a tremor ran, his slaves quailed, and his armies halted, and his captains suddenly steerless, bereft of will, wavered and despaired.  For they were forgotten.

Tolkien again emphasizes this last point about Sauron’s slaves, a few pages later early in the next chapter, just after Gollum and the Ring have fallen into the fire:

and even at that moment all the hosts of Mordor trembled, doubt clutched their hearts, their laughter failed, their hands shook and their limbs were loosed.  The Power that drove them on and filled them with hate and fury was wavering, its will was removed from them;

The point I observe here, is that both just before the Ring was destroyed – when it still existed and was claimed by Frodo – and again just after the Ring was destroyed, Sauron’s slaves and armies suddenly lost the will that had been controlling them.  Up until that point, Sauron’s will had firmly dominated their wills, such that they were a formidable foe to the armies under Aragorn at the Black Gate.  All of that time, before Sauron’s attention was diverted, these evil creatures did not have any free will but were acting under that strong domination of will, that had been exercised by the power of the Dark Lord – and this was the Dark Lord himself and his power, even though the Dark Lord himself did not have possession of his Ring.

Following Gandalf has some good insights into the nature of Sauron, the contrasting nature of Gandalf, and what Tolkien himself viewed regarding the importance of individual free will as contrasted with automaton domination by another’s will.  However, looking at other scenes in Lord of the Rings as well as Tolkien’s letters, it seems clear at least to me, that the power of the One Ring is not specifically the ability to dominate others’ wills (though such is required in order to more effectively use it), but that the Ring enhances the possessor’s natural abilities, giving them power like “magic,” a power that then can be corrupted “into evil, a lust for domination.”

Any thoughts from readers here?  What are some additional aspects of the Ring’s powers and effects, that come to mind for you, from your readings of Lord of the Rings?

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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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Faramir, Frodo, and The Will of God: Acts 21 in Middle-Earth

As I continue to study this topic, Christian themes in J.R.R. Tolkien’s Lord of the Rings, I find more and more story similarities to Christian truth and even to particular events recorded in the Bible.   For example, a recent Sunday sermon was on Acts 21, and in this story, especially verses 11-14, I was reminded of a similar illustration from J.R.R. Tolkien’s The Two Towers (see Abe Books offer) — and Faramir’s last words with Frodo.

These verses in Acts 21 tell of when the prophet Agabus visits and makes a “bad news” prophecy, that trouble awaits the apostle Paul in Jerusalem:   the Jews of Jerusalem would bind Paul and hand him over to the Gentiles.  The people, on hearing this, plead with Paul not to go to Jerusalem.  But Paul insists on going to Jerusalem, proclaiming his willingness to be bound and even to die in Jerusalem, and then the people accept this, saying “The Lord’s will be done.”

As harsh as Paul’s experience ended up being, Tolkien’s picture of a similar type of thing appears to be of even worse circumstances —  with great details to engage the reader and to strongly identify with the characters.   This illustration in turn can give us a greater appreciation of the actual trials experienced by the apostle Paul.

In the Middle Earth event, the place is that of known danger, of some great, ancient evil — Cirith Ungol.  Frodo at first does not know its name, and can only describe the general direction and path of this entrance into Mordor that Gollum has described.  Faramir plays a role similar to Agabus and the people who heard Agabus’ prophecy:  first, in the prophecy of extreme danger, and then — like the people who heard Agabus — strongly advising Frodo not to go there.  Yet, like the apostle Paul – and in a way that both Jesus and Paul in Christ’s steps showed us — Frodo keeps to the will of God (as pictured in the Council of Elrond, and the great task that he must accomplish).  After giving the warnings to Frodo, and seeing Frodo’s determined choice and willingness to his work, Faramir — like the people who accompanied the apostle Paul, in similar effect did the same:  Since he would not be persuaded, we said no more except, “The Lord’s will be done.”

It is this feature in Frodo’s character, as well as later events that happen to him, that is in mind when Frodo is commonly referred to as the representation of the Priestly Office of Christ — along with Gandalf the Prophet and Aragorn the King, for the types of Christ as Priest, Prophet, and King in Tolkien’s epic work.  A few excerpts for consideration, from the scene in The Two Towers:

‘Frodo, I think you do very unwisely in this,’ said Faramir. ‘I do not think you should go with this creature. It is wicked.’

…

‘You would not ask me to break faith with him?’ ‘No,’ said Faramir. ‘But my heart would. For it seems less evil to counsel another man to break troth than to do so oneself, especially if one sees a friend bound unwitting to his own harm. But no – if he will go with you, you must now endure him. But I do not think you are holden to go to Cirith Ungol, of which he has told you less than he knows. That much I perceived clearly in his mind. Do not go to Cirith Ungol!’ … …. Of them we know only old report and the rumour of bygone days. But there is some dark terror that dwells in the passes above Minas Morgul. If Cirith Ungol is named, old men and masters of lore will blanch and fall silent.’

Then a further plea:

It is a place of sleepless malice, full of lidless eyes. Do not go that way!’

Frodo’s response:  ‘But where else will you direct me?’ said Frodo. ‘You cannot yourself, you say, guide me to the mountains, nor over them. But over the mountains I am bound, by solemn undertaking to the Council, to find a way or perish in the seeking. And if I turn back, refusing the road in its bitter end, where then shall I go among Elves or Men?  … ‘Then what would you have me do?’

Faramir: ‘I know not. Only I would not have you go to death or to torment. And I do not think that Mithrandir [another name for Gandalf] would have chosen this way.’

‘Yet since he is gone, I must take such paths as I can find. And there is no time for long searching,’ said Frodo.

‘It is a hard doom and a hopeless errand,’ said Faramir. ‘But at the least, remember my warning: beware of this guide, Sméagol. He has done murder before now. I read it in him.’

Faramir’s final words on this subject:

He sighed. ‘Well, so we meet and part, Frodo son of Drogo. You have no need of soft words: I do not hope to see you again on any other day under this Sun. But you shall go now with my blessing upon you, and upon all your people. … If ever beyond hope you return to the lands of the living and we re-tell our tales, sitting by a wall in the sun, laughing at old grief, you shall tell me then [Faramir’s questions about Gollum, and how Gollum had been involved with possessing the great ring of power]. Until that time, or some other time beyond the vision of the Seeing-stones of Númenor, farewell!’

An important element in both the Bible story in Acts 21, and the similar type of event in Lord of the Rings, is that the main character, the protagonist, is heading into great danger.  For Paul it certainly meant bonds, being whipped and physically abused, and (for all he knew) death.  For Frodo it meant likely death, and indeed we see in the later events, that Frodo (again similar to Gandalf and Aragorn) did experience a type of death  that is like to the real sufferings of Paul as well as Christ.

Yet, when Agabus gave that prophecy to Paul, nothing in the prophecy itself indicated to the recipient (Paul) that he should thus change his course and direction, and avoid the place that would provide such a negative experience.  A common life saying I’ve heard from a local acquaintance goes something like, “if I knew the place where I would die, I would avoid that place like the plague.”  Such is our natural reaction, to avoid pain and suffering.  But the call of God on the life of a Christian, as shown in the 1st century experience of the apostle Paul, and shown for us in the best of tales and epic sagas, takes precedence.  As Elisabeth Elliot observed (see previous post), the great heroes went on their adventures, facing great difficulties, because of the promise of great reward.  Paul the apostle certainly had this heart, knowing the love of God which constrains us, with a willingness to suffer, since (Romans 8:18) our present sufferings are not worth comparing with the future glory.  Frodo, too, realized the importance of carrying out his mission — to destroy the evil works of Sauron the Dark Lord, to bring peace and safety and happy lives to the people of Middle Earth, to free them from their fears and the threats and bondage of Sauron.

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