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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Evil Counsellors (Wormtongue, and the Queen of Underland in Narnia) and Restoration

Continuing in the Lenten Lord of the Rings journey, some thoughts from The Two Towers, chapter “The King of the Golden Hall.”  As I was reading the parts concerning Grima Wormtongue, I was reminded of another evil counsellor, who was likewise depicted as a serpent (in a literal form): in The Silver Chair, the serpent that killed Prince Rilian’s mother, and later ensnares the Prince himself, in bondage to the “Queen of Underland,” to finally reappear in its true form of a serpent.

Though Grima does not literally change into a snake, the reference comes out in several places in the dialogue:

“See, Theoden, here is a snake! With safety you cannot take it with you, nor can you leave it behind. To slay it would be just. But it was not always as it now is. Once it was a man, and did you service. …

‘Nay, Éomer, you do not fully understand the mind of Master Wormtongue,’ said Gandalf, turning his piercing glance upon him. ‘He is bold and cunning. Even now he plays a game with peril and wins a throw. Hours of my precious time he has wasted already. Down, snake!’ he said suddenly in a terrible voice. ‘Down on your belly!

The situations are somewhat different, but show some clear similarities.  King Theoden has been shut in his dark castle, the Golden Hall which is dark by contrast with the daylight outside, and shut up with fears — that he is an old man, that he should take extreme caution and not do anything that might endanger his health in his dying days, that he should stay in that dark place.  Rilian is still a prince, heir to the throne, and yet quite literally in a dark place, under the ground; and he too, similar to Theoden, only goes outside (to the world above) seldom, when the Queen of Underland allows it and takes him with her.

Of course, the depiction of the evil character is more developed in Tolkien’s Lord of the Rings.  Grima Wormtongue is servant to a greater demonic power, that of Saruman (who in turn has been in the service of the greater Dark Lord Sauron), whereas the Queen of Underland is understood to be representative of the devil or Satan himself, without any hierarchy of evil.  (C.S. Lewis, though, certainly understood and elsewhere taught such a concept of demonic hierarchy, as for instance in his classic work Screwtape Letters.  The simpler form is presented in the Narnia series, intended for children readers.)

The evil characters in both places seek domination over other wills, and do so in accordance with the measure of their demonic abilities.  While the Queen of Underland hoped to conquer and rule over all of Narnia, apparently Grima hoped for his reward from Saruman — the treasure, and Eowyn, as Gandalf described it:  you were to pick your share of the treasure, and take the woman you desire.

Yet in both cases their victim was under a spell:  not knowing their true, real self; in darkness, bondage, delusion and fear, trapped by the poison of a “toxic person” as described by the psychologists of our day.  Both Rilian and Theoden needed help from someone outside, as they were powerless to change their situation.  Rilian had his Silver Chair, that must be destroyed for the spell to be broken; he had tried once to break free, but the evil queen had been there and prevented his escape.  Theoden had friends who saw his situation and loved him, yet could do nothing for Theoden, whose will was in Wormtongue’s care.  “A man may love you and yet not love Wormtongue or his counsels,” said Gandalf.  For both of them, a healing was needed, and help must come from outside — messengers sent to them from God.

So in Aslan’s purpose, messengers from our world (rather like departed saints, or angels, from the Narnian perspective — people not living among them in Narnia) were sent — Eustace and Jill — to free the prisoner.  In Iluvatar’s will, Gandalf had been “sent back” — as Gandalf described it in the previous chapter to Aragorn, Legolas and Gimli: sent back from death, after the fall into the pit with the Balrog in Moria, to continue the work for Gandalf to do.  And that work included coming to Theoden’s hall, and breaking the spell that had been put on King Theoden.

The healing is completed, the spell broken, and the characters can take action and move forward with their lives.  In the words of Prince Rilian, upon destroying the silver chair:

“Lie there, vile engine of sorcery,” he said, “lest your mistress should ever use you for another victim.”  Then he turned and surveyed his rescuers; and the something wrong, whatever it was, had vanished from his face. …. “Had I forgotten it [Narnia] when I was under the spell?” asked the Knight. “Well, that and all other bedevilments are now over.”

The wise counsel that Gandalf brings to Theoden, is so applicable for us all. When Theoden asks about the counsel that Gandalf had mentioned, first comes encouragement: “You have yourself already taken it,” answered Gandalf.  The counsel: “To put your trust in Eomer, rather than in a man of crooked mind. To cast away fear and regret.  To do the deed at hand.” And herein lies an answer to difficulties for all of us. Listen to the right people, cease listening to the voice of the enemy (and negative thoughts contrary to goodness, beauty, and truth), to put the past behind, and move forward. As the apostle Paul said (Phil. 3:13-14): Forgetting what is behind and reaching forward to what is ahead, I pursue as my goal the prize promised by God’s heavenly call in Christ Jesus.

Theoden is roused to go to the battle. He still has strength in his body, his people have strength, and there is still hope. Prince Rilian joins the travellers to escape from the Underworld, to meet his dying father and then to take on his responsibilities as the next King of Narnia.

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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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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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Tolkien: A Celebration — Intro to Tolkien Scholarship

I’m gradually delving into the world of Tolkien scholarship: what people have written about J.R.R. Tolkien’s Middle Earth legendarium.  I previously read one of Matthew Dickerson’s books, Following Gandalf, a good introduction to treatment of themes found in Tolkien’s writing.  Now I’m reading through the essays in Tolkien: A Celebration, essays published shortly after the centenary of Tolkien’s birth (1992, 100 years after his birth), a good sampling of different ideas and directions that people have taken in academic study of J.R.R. Tolkien.  Indeed the possibilities seem endless, with what different people find to relate to in Tolkien’s writings.  Podcast episodes also provide introduction to various authors in this field, such as this Amon Sul podcast I recently listened to; the author, Dr. Lisa Coutras (Tolkien’s Theology of Beauty: Majesty, Splendor, and Transcendence in Middle-Earth mentions that Tolkien: A Celebration was her introduction to Tolkien scholarship.

Tolkien, as is so well known, “cordially disliked” allegory, and distinguished formal allegory from application — preferring the latter, in the imagination and application of the reader, instead of the single, particular meaning dictated by the author (as in formal allegories).  The essays in this volume certainly expand on the area of application; as generally the case with essay collections, some of these are more helpful than others.

The second essay in this volume, “Over the Chasm of Fire: Christian Heroism in The Silmarillion and The Lord of the Rings,” by Stratford Caldecott, includes basic summary of events in The Silmarillion (for those who may not be familiar or have forgotten these stories), and offers insights regarding the loss of Beren’s hand:

Beren must lose his hand before Luthien can put hers in its place.  That is the way grace works: our own hand, our own ability to grasp and act, can only take us so far.  In reality as in story, life itself must be renounced, every sacrifice accepted, for the sake of love, before love can finally conquer even death, and man be united with grace beyond the grave.

and then, relating this to the account of Frodo and Sam at Mount Doom:

The desire to grasp is finally renounced; the grasping Shadow falls into the Fire and is forgiven.  Frodo has lost a finger, and humble Sam may see him as the great hero, but by that remark and the spirit it reveals it is Sam himself who is conformed to Beren One-Hand; Sam, not Frodo, whose touch will bring the Shire back to life in a golden age.

The next essay, “Modernity in Middle Earth,” is actually about how Tolkien expressed a concern that so many of us resonate with, getting to the heart of the things of most value, versus the progressive values of moderns and post-moderns.  The essay points out what is behind the most common criticism of Lord of the Rings: the dominant charge against Tolkien has been that of escapism and/or reaction; and the overwhelming majority of these critics, as is evident from their other writings, subscribe to the very same values of modernity — statism, scientism, economism, and secularism — which are implicated in the pathological dynamic that so alarmed Tolkien, and still deeply worries his readers today.  This can certainly be applied, as a way of understanding ordinary people around us who do not “get” Tolkien — as with a close family member who outwardly professes Christianity, yet has a scientific, 21st century technology and secondary causes, modernist outlook on life, and has read The Lord of the Rings but doesn’t see anything of particular worth there, preferring current-day authors of secular novels.

Another essay (“The Lord of the Rings — A Catholic View”) comes up with a rather unusual application — at least one I had never considered.  Isildur can be compared to three failed monarchs who held to the traditional construct of Church and State at a time when modernism was coming in strong —  Charles I of England (Anglican in early 17th century England), Louis XVI (Catholic, late 18th century monarch during the French Revolution), and Nicholas II (last of the Tsars, Eastern Orthodox, early 20th century), as another ruler who desired to uphold the traditional kingdom, yet had a personal weakness or flaw that brought about his downfall.  Granted that Catholics want to claim Tolkien as “one of our own,” but I tend to agree with others who have observed that what Tolkien created — though as Tolkien said it was a Catholic work, unconsciously so at first, more consciously in the revisions — was not something that put his Catholicism up front and center.  As the Amon Sul podcast host says, it’s great that Catholics want to promote Tolkien, but that’s not the main point about Tolkien and what he accomplished.

Some of the essays are written at the popular level (such as the opening one from George Sayers link: previous post), others at a somewhat higher reading level, and a few at a more academic level–notably, The Art of the Parable, which I’ll need to reread to fully appreciate its content.  The essay on time and death is also really good, noting the sadness and the pride that entered the elves, unfallen beings who nevertheless were not fully content and desired the higher station of the Valar:  an essay that brings to mind the wonderful fact of Christ’s Incarnation and Resurrection, and the difference in the Middle Earth stories as a time before those events.

I’m just over halfway through Tolkien: A Celebration, and enjoying the many different ideas, applications, and different literary features of interest within Tolkien’s legendarium.  a

 

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