Reading English letters without been first well versed in the Bible will leave you adrift. I did not know Tolkien was Catholic and certainly influenced his scholarly contemporaries to often convert.
I have never read the Silmarillion, but perhaps I needed this insight.
just knowing he has used a certain spiritual framework allows insightful reading while enjoying his work.
I have sampled most 20th century authors and was not surprised when his masterpiece was voted the most important of the 20th century. Not least because of his imitators. we all love middle earth.
Tolkien’s Forgotten Masterpiece: The Silmarillion
https://onepeterfive.com/tolkiens-forgotten-masterpiece-the-silmarillion/
Christian Faith and Fiction Literature
The way in which John Ronald Reuel Tolkien conceives the relationship between his literary creations and his own Christian (i.e., Catholic) faith has given rise to extensive analyses and never-ending discussions. As one might say, we are dealing with a subject that provokes strong passions and reactions. Within the entire corpus of his letters, the most significant fragment regarding such a delicate topic is found in a letter addressed to a distinguished scholar and Jesuit friend, Father Robert Murray S.J.[1] Here, Tolkien explains how he conceives and incorporates the religious element into his stories:
The Lord of the Rings is of course a fundamentally religious and Catholic work; unconsciously so at first, but consciously in the revision. That is why I have not put in, or have cut out, practically all references to anything like ‘religion,’ to cults or practices, in the imaginary world. For the religious element is absorbed into the story and the symbolism.[2]
In the above lines, the author offers an important clue for analysis, highlighting the diffuse religious element that is implicitly present in the fabric of his narratives and––especially––in their symbolism. Like all great Catholic writers of the 20th century (whose pantheon includes Joseph Conrad, Gilbert Keith Chesterton, Julien Green, and Graham Greene), Tolkien does not practice a programmatic literature, an explicit, ‘ideological’ type of apologetics, so to speak, aimed at presenting the Christian faith. Like all of them, he is and declares himself a writer, but not necessarily a Catholic writer. Concretely, he is a Catholic who, among other vocations (such as being a professor, husband, and father), also has that of being a writer.
What I mean is that he in no way confuses the principles and rules of literary art with those of religion and theology. Although perfectly harmonious in his theoretical vision, art and faith each have their own distinct domain. I hasten to emphasize that, at the same time he does not deny the influence of Christian faith on the values ‘encoded’ in his literature. Thus, Tolkien accepts interpretations from some readers, such as that proposed by Deborah Webster, according to which the invocations to Elbereth or Galadriel at certain points in The Lord of the Rings trilogy are synonymous with Catholics’ invocations to the Virgin Mary, just as the elves’ lembas can be understood as a literary symbol of Holy Communion.
However, I must offer an explanation to those who, for personal reasons, might ignore or deny the Christian dimension of Tolkien’s works, citing the fact that there is no explicit presence of religion, temples, or religious gestures in them.
In addition to the explanation of the implicit presence of religious elements, another elementary fact may clarify things. Middle-earth, although “a monotheistic world of ‘natural theology’” (Letter 165, to Houghton Mifflin Co.), is not a world marked by Christian Revelation. This is because the Third Age, during which The Lord of the Rings takes place, is pre-Christian, as are the ages preceding it. Here, Tolkien aligns with the ideas of pre-Christian religious values discussed by Justin Martyr the Philosopher, or Clement of Alexandria. Assuming the existence of positive elements in the religions of antiquity, they argued that within these religions there were true ‘seeds’ of the divine Logos (semina Verbi) that anticipated and prepared the pagans to receive the Christian Gospel. In the same sense, there are consistent Christian elements in Tolkien’s stories. However, they appear more as literary symbols intended to lead readers indirectly and implicitly toward the fullness of Christian Revelation. We can easily be convinced of this by analyzing The Silmarillion, a work in which the author presents the cosmological framework of all his heroes.
A Christian Mythology
The first two books, Ainulindalë and Valaquenta, of this mythological epic present the mysteries of cosmogony, unfolded under the guidance of the supreme God. Called Eru (“the One”) or, in the ancient language of the Elves, Ilúvatar (“the Father of All”), he is the equivalent of Yahweh, the God of the Jewish Old Testament. The creator of all, eternal and uncreated himself, his absolute power manifests through the unimaginable force of creation from nothing (ex nihilo). All things created subsist only with Him and through Him, as seen from the testimony he gives when speaking of the musical themes that represent the harmonies of all creation and all creatures:
No theme may be played that hath not its uttermost source in me, nor can any alter the music in my despite. For he that attempteth this shall prove but mine instrument in the devising of things more wonderful, which he himself hath not imagined.[3]
Any attempt to usurp the authority of the One is destined to fail. As the creator of all beings, God-Iluvatar sustains them all in life, after first conceiving them in His divine mind. By creating creatures in a strict hierarchical order, He begins by creating the “Holy Ones,” each corresponding to a particular part of His mind, from which the Valar will later emerge—those among them who will leave the heavens to dwell on Earth. A distinct chapter of creation is the bringing into existence of the world, called Arda in the Elvish language, which is then populated by the Children of Iluvatar: the Elves—“the Firstborn”—and Men—“the Followers.” Before the Earth comes into being, Eru presents it to the Ainur in a mystical vision:
And he showed to them a vision, giving to them sight where before was only hearing; and they saw a new World made visible before them, and it was globed amid the Void, and it was sustained therein, but was not of it. And as they looked and wondered this World began to unfold its history, and it seemed to them that it lived and grew.
Brought into being ex nihilo with the power of eternal grace, symbolized by Tolkien through the so-called “imperishable flame,” the world is seen as the result of creation through the divine Word spoken by Ilúvatar:
‘Therefore I say: Eä! Let these things Be! And I will send forth the flame imperishable into the Void, and it shall be at the heart of the World, and the World shall Be; and those of you that will may go down into it.’
And suddenly the Ainur saw afar off a light, as it were a cloud with a living heart of flame; and they knew that this was no vision only, but that Ilúvatar had made a new thing: Eä, the World that Is.[4]
All the major themes of biblical cosmogony are present in the creation narrative described in The Silmarillion: divine omnipotence, creation ex nihilo, the dynamics of light and darkness at the beginning of creation, and, last but not least, the creative power of the divine Word––the Logos.
If we also consider the presence of the Sacred Heart of our Savior Jesus Christ, symbolized by the eternal divine flame at the very heart of creation, we can conclude, along with exegetes such as Cédric Fockeu, Stratford Caldecott, Joseph Pearce, and Bradley Birzer, that we are indeed dealing with a true “Christian mythology.” Its distinctive mark is the presence of divine Providence––the work of Eru’s will that sustains creation and creatures. Such a philosophy excludes the idea of the fatalism omnipresent in ancient pagan mythologies. For example, in ancient Greek religion, even Zeus could not escape the inevitable ‘fate’ (Greek ‘Μοῖρα,’ Latin ‘fatum’) that governed the entire universe, while in Arda, the true axis of the world is the will of God. The similarities with the cosmogony of the Judeo-Christian tradition do not end here. In attempting to describe, as much as is humanly possible, events from the “other world” that occurred at the dawn of creation, Tolkien could not avoid the difficult problem of evil.
The Evil of Melkor and the Purity of Elbereth
Throughout the Book of Job in the Old Testament, numerous thinkers have been puzzled by one of the greatest mysteries described in the sacred Judeo-Christian texts. What is unsettling and difficult to understand is the presence of the devil, Satan, among the angels who come before the living God (Job 1:6–7 and 2:1–2). Seemingly with access to the angelic heavens and free passage even before the divine throne, Satan is highlighted in the biblical texts as “a fallen angel, but still an angel”––as memorably expressed by Henri-Irénée Marrou. Ignoring the proper distance between creature and Creator, he sought to usurp the supremacy of the Almighty, aiming to place his own throne of glory above that of the absolute Master. Punished for his madness, Satan triggered a true cosmic war, described in the Book of Revelation (12:7–10). Defeated and cast from the heavens to Earth, the enemy attacks the woman who is the mother of the divine child, the Holy Virgin Mary (12:13–18). With the incarnation of our Lord Jesus Christ, the war intensified and will continue until the end of history.
All aspects of the biblical perspective on the origin and development of evil in the world can be easily found in The Silmarillion, embodied in the figure of the rebellious fallen angel, Melkor. Endowed by God-Eru with qualities that made him the most powerful of all created beings, Morgoth (the other known name of Melkor) sought from the beginning to elevate himself above his fellows, inventing musical themes of his own that he opposed to the divine symphony. His boundless pride would erupt only after the creation of the world, the Elves, and Men, whose existence ignited his fierce desire to become the sole and tyrannical ruler of Arda.
An entire section of the second book of The Silmarillion, Valaquenta, describes the multiplication of evil on Earth. Originating from Melkor, this evil gains new strength through the joining of dangerous allies from among the Maiar, who are also spirits, like the Valar, but lesser in power. From these spirits come the fearsome Balrogs, “demons of terror,” also known as the ‘valaraukar,’ one of whom was confronted by Gandalf the Grey in the legendary battle on the Bridge of Khazad-dûm. However, the most dangerous of the Maiar proved to be Sauron, master of Dol Guldur and the dark realm of Mordor.
Faced and defeated by those among the Valar––Manwë and the fierce Oromë and Tulkas––who always supported the Elves and Men in the battle against evil, Melkor had an unwavering adversary in the person of the majestic Varda, known to the Elves as the “Lady of the Stars.” Readers recognize her as Elbereth. Invoked by the Elves in their songs, the mere mention of her name strengthens Frodo Baggins against the terrifying Nazgûl, and later Sam Gamgee in his fierce fight against Shelob. Of heavenly beauty, Elbereth is unmistakably the literary embodiment of the Holy Virgin Mary. Queen of Heaven and Earth, she has been called by Catholic believers throughout the ages “the Morning Star”––Stella Matutina. Tolkien himself acknowledged this in a letter to Deborah Webster dated October 25, 1958.
Rooted in faith in the omnipotence of the living God of the Old and New Testament, Tolkien’s vision includes clear theistic elements in his stories, along with numerous themes inspired by Christianity. In particular, the struggle between Good and Evil is presented in this light, of Judeo-Christian theology, as highlighted by many scholars. In our current situation, shaken by an earthquake that threatens to destroy the foundations of Western culture and civilization, we find in the English author a wise friend who reminds us with solemnity, but not without hope, through his stories, that during our earthly lives, we are all caught in a cosmic conflict where neither heroes nor dragons are absent.
[1] As a personal testimony, I recall with great gratitude the response that Father Murray gave me––in 2008––through the late Oxford specialist in Tolkien’s work, Stratford Caldecott (1953–2014). His comment, regarding the role of imagination in the work of the author of The Lord of the Rings, helped me improve the main argument of my article “The Fantastic Secret of Tolkien’s Fairy Tales: Literature and Jesuit Spiritual Exercises,” included in the volume edited by Sandra Miesel and Paul E. Kerry, The Light Beyond All Shadow: Religious Experience in Tolkien’s Work (Fairleigh Dickinson University Press, 2011).
[2] Letter 142 to Robert Murray, S.J., in The Letters of J.R.R. Tolkien, Edited by Humphrey Carpenter with the assistance of Christopher Tolkien, Harper Collins Publishers, 1995, p. 172.
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[3] J.R.R. Tolkien, Silmarillion, New York: Ballatine Books, 1977, p. 6.
[4] J.R.R. Tolkien, Silmarillion, ed.cit., p. 10.
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