Ritual Participation, and a Lent Reading of Lord of the Rings

An interesting point brought up in an Amon Sul podcast (episode #24), in relation to myth and story:  in our modern world, people often focus on “how can I relate to this person?” and similar questions.  As for example, which character in Tolkien’s world am I most like, or which one do I want to be like?  Modern people often ask, how do I relate to such people who are not ordinary, who do not have “ordinary” lives such as mine?  So it is in our modern, very psychologized world.  This can be seen as a symptom of modernism with its stress on individualism and lack of community.  A key part of community life, in contrast with our age, is that of ritual participation: the repeated, common experiences of a group of people, such as in observances in the calendar each year.  Such was the experience in pre-modern societies, whether pagan or in the early and then medieval Church.

In our age, science fiction and fantasy fiction lend themselves to a type of ritual participation: dressing up in costume, going to Star Trek or other sci-fi or fantasy conventions, for instance.  I remember my early days attending such events every year.  Lord of the Rings is another entry into ritual participation:  Doxamoots and related convention gathering events, but also the simple pleasure of the repeated experience found in re-reading through Lord of the Rings every year or at set times of the year.

On this note, I have even come across a reading schedule for Lord of the Rings.  It’s like a yearly Bible reading schedule, but for all the days of Lent (about 2 months) – and with specific chapters for assigned reading each day.  The schedule is even adjusted each year, with the 2023 reading schedule available here.  Various blogs have followed the Lent schedule, with posts related to the reading in the Lent schedule, such as this post from a few years ago, and also this post from 2015.  There’s even a Lenten Lord of the Rings podcast that provides daily updates, brief “devotional” thoughts on each day’s reading.

It’s certainly an aggressive schedule, one that I’m not sure if I’d be able to complete every day, but I think I’ll give it a try.  I may include audio book reading, with the audio book version (unabridged) I have (read by Rob Inglis).  Of course, Lent season is still four months away, and I completed this year’s reading of Lord of the Rings a month or so ago, to start on The Silmarillion now.

What are some other ideas and reading schedules for Lord of the Rings reading, or for reading of Tolkien’s other works?

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Following Gandalf: Middle-Earth Battles

A friend had recommended some Tolkien resources, including Matthew Dickerson’s books such as Following Gandalf and A Hobbit Journey.  So, I’ve purchased and am now reading through Following Gandalf; since then I’ve realized that the second book, A Hobbit Journey, is similar content, with most of the same chapters, an updated version of Following Gandalf.

Dickerson’s writing is interesting, with a lot of good details, and so I’ll start with the content in chapter 1: Epic Battles.  Here, Dickerson looks at Tolkien’s view of battle and war, by noting the four battles (one in The Hobbit, and three in Lord of the Rings) plus the skirmish that Sam witnesses (where he sees an Oliphaunt)  and how they are described, to show that — contrary to a colleague’s perception — Tolkien does not glorify violence and war.  The battles of course are mostly told from the hobbits’ perspectives:  Bilbo, Sam, Merry, and Pippin — with one exception, Helms Deep, that the hobbits are absent from.  Each narration from the seemingly most unimportant character (a hobbit), one that is not a participant in the battle, along with descriptions about misery and being uncomfortable, and sad and sorrowful (especially in Merry’s experience at the “Battle of the Pelennor Fields”), shows Tolkien’s view of the unpleasantness of war.  For instance, the words of Sam after the fight between Faramir’s men and the Southrons:

It was Sam’s first view of a battle of Men against Men, and he did not like it much. He was glad that he could not see the dead face. He wondered what the man’s name was and where he came from; and if he was really evil of heart, or what lies or threats had led him on the long march from his home; and if he would not really rather have stayed there in peace.

Dickerson brings out interesting details regarding the Rohirrim as like the Anglo-Saxons (with the addition of a love of horses not known of Anglo-Saxons).  Certainly the general impression of the people of Rohan is that of northern Europe, such as the Vikings.  But a literary reference to Beowulf makes the connection to the Anglo Saxons.  The “welcome” from the guard to Gandalf, Aragorn, Legolas and Gimli in book three of The Two Towers, follows the pattern of the welcome given to Beowulf and his warriors by the beach guards, a scene where they visit Hrothgar.  Dickerson shows us the wording of the two speeches, with the same basic wording, sentence structure and sequence, with just a few words changed, in relation to the specific plot points.

We also have good analysis of the complex character of Eowyn — Tolkien’s Eowyn, not the Peter Jackson movie “dumbed-down” young woman who just has a crush on Aragorn.  Keeping to the battle theme, Dickerson points out more specifically that her desire for death in battle was an Anglo Saxon ideal.

In sparing her from death, Tolkien gives his reader the opportunity to see the healing she later finds.   It is by the author’s grace that Eowyn does not die but is able to learn that the type of glory she sought earlier is not the answer.”  Eowyn’s “illness” is a desire for glory.

Tolkien, in his caring, thoughtful portrayal of Eowyn and her later healing, also makes it clear that it not “solely a womanly virtue to abandon the glories of the battlefield, and turn instead to the house and garden and the pursuit of peace, but as a manly virtue as well.”  The later chapter in book 6 of Return of the King, “The Steward and the King,” is a great conclusion to the healing of both Faramir and Eowyn.

Dickerson’s commentary on the “Contest” at Helm’s Deep between Legolas and Gimli is also worth reading, for any who might still think that Tolkien glorified war.  It is interesting that the Helm’s Deep chapter is where we see several friendships developed and/or strengthened: Aragorn and Eomer, Gimli and Eomer, and especially the strengthening of the friendship between Gimli and Legolas, as we see their real concern for each other.

I’m now nearing the end of Following Gandalf, with lots of additional thoughts on many more topics in Tolkien’s Middle Earth.

 

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Comfort, and Be Not Afraid, in Middle Earth

“Comfort, Comfort my people,” is a well-known Bible verse, the beginning of Isaiah 40 and the great “gospel of Isaiah,” the second major part of the book of Isaiah. In my readings through Lord of the Rings, the idea of “Be not afraid” and “comfort” sticks out, coming up so many times throughout the hobbits’ journey. Just as “do not fear” is the most repeated commandment in the Bible, so Tolkien included this idea in the world of Middle Earth. Indeed, the words comfort and variation comfortable occur 145 times in The Hobbit and Lord of the Rings.

Often the word “comfort” simply comes out in the conversation, such as telling someone to “take comfort in that thought” that has just been shared. When Merry was Gandalf’s passenger, and — rather like the child in the back seat on a long road trip asking “are we there yet?” — mentioned that the rag-tag was tired and would like to lie down, Gandalf replied with several comments about Saruman (The Two Towers, Book 3, The Voice of Saruman), including this: “If it is any comfort to your pride, I should say that, at the moment, you and Pippin are more in his thoughts than all the rest of us.”

When Sam thought Frodo had died, and had decided to leave Frodo and venture forward on his own, Sam lifted up the Phial for one last look at his master’s face, and with the bitter comfort of that last sight Sam turned and hid the light and stumbled on into the growing dark.

Then, when darker times approach, and the world situation is looking bleaker and more dangerous, Gandalf speaks comfort to those around him. As described by Pippin, an event during the first days of his ride with Gandalf on Shadowfax, their flight to Minas Tirith: And hardly had they reached its shelter when the winged shadow had passed over once again, and men wilted with fear. But Gandalf had spoken soft words to him, and he had slept in a corner, tired but uneasy, dimly aware of comings and goings and of men talking and Gandalf giving orders.

A short time later, after Gandalf tells Pippin some of the lore of Minas Tirith and Gondor, Pippin stirred uneasily. “Sleep again, and do not be afraid!” said Gandalf. “For you are not going like Frodo to Mordor, but to Minas Tirith, and there you will be as safe as you can be anywhere in these days.”

Related to this, Pippin is an interesting character study. Behind all the cheer and “hobbit pertness,” and his getting into trouble by doing ill-advised things such as throwing a pebble down an open pit in the ground, and then the evil of stealing the Palantir stone from Gandalf, we find out that Pippin also has some natural timidness and he is often fearful, a quality brought up from time to time, including in book 5 of Return of the King, where much of the narrative is told from his perspective.

Here again I observe one of the many differences from the Peter Jackson Lord of the Rings films — the character of Pippin in the films is that of an arrogant, obnoxious hobbit, not really all that likable. I’ve started reading Matthew Dickerson’s Following Gandalf (published in 2003, and written after the first of the three movies had been released), and he noted a similar thing about the first Peter Jackson film and the portrayal of some of the other characters. As Dickerson pointed out, Jackson’s movie provided incomplete and inaccurate portrayals of Elrond and Galadriel: “the overall images we get of Elrond and Galadriel in the films are not predominantly ones of kindness, love, or understanding—the words used by Tolkien to describe them—but images that are harsh and sinister.” Based on such observations in Following Gandalf, I suspect that in Dickerson’s updated version, A Hobbit Journey, written several years later, he included more such comparisons, of where the later Jackson movies so twisted and distorted the characters in Tolkien’s Lord of the Rings.

So, reader interaction time:  what are some other incidents in Lord of the Rings that stick out to you, that show the theme of comfort in fearful, distressing situations?

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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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Lord of the Rings: Vows, Prayer, and Keeping Your Word

Christian themes in Lord of the Rings:  It is sometimes said that Tolkien’s fiction is not “Christian” because it does not show people in a church context with worship and prayer to God.  The answer is more complex, and subtle — we see types  (that is pictures, examples), of the prophet, priest, and king roles, plus many other Christian themes.  The background history told in The Silmarilion is where we find the more direct Christian teaching of Iluvatar (God) along with Middle Earth’s creation story.  In Lord of the Rings (see boxed set for sale at Abebooks) itself, one event often mentioned is that of Faramir and his men standing, facing west, in a moment of silence before dinner is served — “so we always do,” said Faramir — “we look towards Numenor that was, and beyond to Elvenhome that is, and to that which is beyond Elvenhome and will ever be.”

In my current re-reading, I’m nearing the end of The Two Towers, and again impressed with Faramir.  In particular, in my reading up to this point, is the importance of oaths and vows, of promises that are made by something greater than the person making the promise.  In book 2 of Fellowship of the Ring, Elrond gave his final words including the charge to the ring-bearer — and for the others in the fellowship “no oath or bond is laid on you to go further than you will.”  Then earlier in book 4 of The Two Towers, Frodo requests of Gollum a promise that Frodo can trust.  Smeagol says he will swear on the Precious — and Frodo presents Gollum with the solemness of oaths, and the important distinction between swearing “on” something versus swearing “by” it — and will only accept Smeagol’s swearing by the Precious.

Oaths and vows are one feature that give Middle Earth its flavor of ancient, legendary times.  We know that in our world, oaths and vows, and the concept of one’s integrity and making trustworthy promises, was a characteristic in ancient times, as seen in the earliest history in the Bible, in the early chapters of Genesis, as well as among the pagans.  Biblical history soon after the Fall, shows God making covenants — which include oaths, promises — first in the Protoevangelium (Genesis 3:15), and later with Noah and Abraham.  The Gentile nations, all descendants from Noah’s three sons, and though fallen still Image Bearers of God, retained among their basic moral values, the importance of trust, oaths, and vows.  This article from a secular viewpoint, tells about oaths taken by soldiers in ancient Rome.  Oaths and vows continued in our history through medieval times, and again Lord of the Rings has a medieval feel.  Who can read the scene of the hobbit Pippin swearing fealty to Denethor the Steward of Gondor, without thinking of the medieval knights?

The actual word “prayer”  is also found in Tolkien’s Middle Earth — though only twice.  The first use is near the end of The Hobbit, when the Elvenking heard the the news that Smaug the dragon was dead;  “the king, when he received the prayers of Bard, had pity, for he was the lord of a good and kindly people”.  The next time occurs in The Two Towers, from Faramir, referring to Frodo’s prayer to accept Gollum as his servant and to have Gollum under his charge.  In this context, the meaning of prayer conveys the idea of a request from a lesser person to one of a higher social station, and in this same scene Frodo calls Faramir “Lord.”  And such a type of request is certainly part of what is involved in prayer.

In a key scene, Faramir tells Frodo what his response would be to finding the “heirloom” that belonged to the Dark Lord.  He does not actually use the word oath or vow or swear, but says:

“But fear no more!  I would not take this thing, if it lay by the highway.  Not were Minas Tirith falling in ruin and I alone could save her, so, using the weapon of the Dark Lord for her good and my glory.  No.  I do not wish for such triumphs, Frodo son of Drogo.”

Later, when Faramir finds out that “this thing” is the enemy’s ring, he attests to what he had earlier said: We are truth-speakers, we men of Gondor.  We boast seldom, and then perform, or die in the attempt.  Not if I found it on the highway would I take it I said.  Even if I were such a man as to desire this thing, and even though I knew not clearly what this thing was when I spoke, still I should take those words as a vow, and be held by them.

Faramir shows great qualities of character, truth, and integrity, and yet he is just one example of such in the Lord of the Rings.  Often, when I read through Lord of the Rings, I think about which character I am most like, and which character I would aspire to be like.  In the Frodo and Faramir story, I generally identify with Frodo, the introverted traveler who does not easily trust others, keeps things to myself and slow to trust.  But I certainly would want to be like a Faramir, an encourager and able to help others in need, as providence brings such situations into my life.  What about you?

Questions and “food for thought” for Lord of the Rings fans:

• What are some other positive character traits seen in Faramir?
• What are some other examples, with other characters, of showing their integrity and keeping promises?

 

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