Once Upon A Time, Long, Long Ago

Once upon a time, in a land far away, a King awoke and surveyed his kingdom from the highest tower of his palace. He saw fields with green crops beginning to bear fruit. He saw a land of peace where neighbours cared for neighbours and disputes were settled with little struggle. He saw sheep and cattle grazing and young calves kicking up their heels in the dance of new life. He saw people carrying loads of goods that they had grown or made in their homes as they headed to the markets to sell their surplus. He saw children laughing and playing in safe streets. In short, he saw that all was well. It made his heart glad to see such a joyful kingdom for he knew that it had not always been so. Just a few years ago, this was a land of strife and people had grumbled in their homes and complained in the streets about the state of their country. People had starved for lack of food, the waters of the land were not fit to drink, and people had been quick to blame the king and one another for the sad state of this place.

The King had then gathered together all of his household and his staff and they had begun to work a plan. They taught the people how to care for the land and the wells, and they helped them manage their crops and plan for the future. They had held meetings to teach and to listen to the people of the land. They had poured many hours of labour and much of the king’s own treasury into making the kingdom a good place to live. And now that things were going well, people thronged from all of the adjacent communities to see this land and to learn from the collective wisdom of the people.

A celebratory thought crossed the king’s mind and he told his staff to prepare a banquet. He thought, “We should celebrate what we have accomplished.” They would celebrate the best successes of the land. They would feast and drink and dance and enjoy the crops of the land. The invitations were sent and the preparations were made. 

When all was ready, the king sent his criers out into the kingdom to call the people to the table. The message was sent, “All is ready come to the banquet.” But the criers came back with tears in their eyes. The people are not coming, they have busied themselves with other things. Some are doing business with their new-found wealth, some are working in the fields for even greater profit, and some are celebrating new marriages and new alliances.

The King was very sad for a moment. How could his people not see the importance of this banquet? Did they not see all that he and his staff had done for them? How did they become so fixated on the abundances of the land? Did they not see that there is a time for feasting and joyful banqueting?

The king’s sorrow lasted for just a moment and then he told his criers, “Go out into the new territories where the people have not yet been affected by the changes in the kingdom. Go to the places where the poor, the sick, the broken can be found. Invite them to join us. We will have a celebration greater than any seen before.” The criers said that they would do as he had said but there would still be room. The king said, “Make sure you look everywhere and ask everyone to attend. We do not want any to miss their invitation.”

So, the Great Banquet was held and all who came rejoiced and feasted. But, the king always knew it would have been a much better celebration if everyone had attended.

The Music of the Ainur

J.R.R. Tolkien, the author of The Hobbit, The Lord of the Rings, and The Silmarillion is widely recognized as a great writer. He was also a faithful Catholic whose theology appears in his writings in poetic ways. His description of the way evil came into the world, as seen in the opening chapter of The Silmarillion is a work of art infused with theology. Here I quote a portion of Tolkien's creation story:

There was Eru, the One, who in Arda is called Ilúvatar and he made first the Ainur, the Holy Ones, that were the offspring of his thought, and they were with him before aught else was made. And he spoke to them, propounding to them themes of music; and they sang before him, and he was glad. But for a long while they sang only each alone, or but few together, while the rest hearkened; for each comprehended only that part of the mind of Ilúvatar from which he came, and in the understanding of their brethren they grew but slowly. Yet ever as they listened they came to deeper understanding, and increased in unison and harmony.
And it came to pass that Ilúvatar called together all the Ainur and declared to them a mighty theme, unfolding to them things greater and more wonderful than he had yet revealed; and the glory of its beginning and the splendour of its end amazed the Ainur, so that they bowed before Ilúvatar and were silent.
Then Ilúvatar said to them: 'Of the theme that I have declared to you, I will now that ye make in harmony together a Great Music. And since I have kindled you with the Flame Imperishable, ye shall show forth your powers in adorning this theme, each with his own thoughts and devices, if he will. But I will sit and hearken, and be glad that through you great beauty has been wakened into song.'
…
But now Ilúvatar sat and hearkened, and for a great while it seemed good to him, for in the music there were no flaws. But as the theme progressed, it came into the heart of Melkor to interweave matters of his own imagining that were not in accord with the theme of Ilúvatar; for he sought therein to increase the power and glory of the part assigned to himself. To Melkor among the Ainur had been given the greatest gifts of power and knowledge, and he had a share in the gifts of all the gifts of his brethren. He had often gone alone into the void places seeking the Imperishable Flame; for desire grew hot within him to bring into Being things of his own, and it seemed to him that Ilúvatar took no thought for the Void, and he was impatient of its emptiness. Yet he found not the Fire, for it is with Ilúvatar. But being alone he had begun to conceive thoughts of his own unlike those of his brethren.
…
Then Ilúvatar spoke, and he said: ‘Mighty are the Ainur, and mightiest among them is Melkor; but that he may know, and all the Ainur, that I am Ilúvatar, those things that ye have sung, I will show them forth, that ye may see what ye have done. And thou, Melkor, shalt see that 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.(1)

I should leave the words of Tolkien to themselves and allow the reader to grasp the beauty and complexity of the theology that is revealed in these poetic words. Yet, the words are old enough and strange enough to require some explanation and so I will do my best to enlighten the logic that is contained in Tolkien’s creativity. 

In this account of how evil entered the world, it is through the pride and self-promotion of one of the Creator’s created beings. Melkor, here one will draw parallels to Satan, becomes impatient with the creation timeline of the Creator and begins to imagine himself creating Beings and things. He does not have the power to create things on his own, but he begins to weave his ideas into the songs rather than content himself with the themes of the Creator. He creates discord and disharmony and begins to pull more of his brethren along with him.

The Creator allows the discord for just a moment and then stops the music. He tells the Ainur - his created beings who were charged with singing the music of creation - that he will allow their songs to come into being. Even Melkor’s songs will be represented in the creation. Yet, the Creator’s theme shall be sung, and his will shall be done; the Creator will use the songs of Melkor to devise things more wonderful than Melkor or any other Ainur could imagine. For the Creator is the source of all and his will shall prevail.

Tolkien knew that poetry and metaphor were better suited to explaining the great themes of God than pure logic. May his words and further poetry continue to help us as we struggle to understand the great mysteries of God and the universe God created.

(1) Tolkien, J.R.R. The Silmarillion. London: Harper Collins Publishers, 1994, p.15-18.

Forgiveness

 

At a time when racism, violence, and suffering seem to be greater than ever, these words of Fyodor Dostoyevsky are very appropriate.

“I believe like a child that suffering will be healed and made up for, that all the humiliating absurdity of human contradictions will vanish like a pitiful mirage, like the despicable fabrication of the impotent and infinitely small Euclidean mind of man, that in the world's finale, at the moment of eternal harmony, something so precious will come to pass that it will suffice for all hearts, for the comforting of all resentments, for the atonement of all the crimes of humanity, for all the blood that they've shed; that it will make it not only possible to forgive but to justify all that has happened.”
― Fyodor Dostoyevsky, The Brothers Karamazov

Rest in the Grace of the World

I have been sensing a tendency toward fear and depression both in my own soul and in the words of those around me. I am considering these words by Wendell Berry and what they might mean to all of us at this point in history.

“When despair for the world grows in me and I wake in the night at the least sound in fear of what my life and my children's lives may be, I go and lie down where the wood drake rests in his beauty on the water, and the great heron feeds. I come into the peace of wild things who do not tax their lives with forethought of grief. I come into the presence of still water. And I feel above me the day-blind stars waiting with their light. For a time I rest in the grace of the world, and am free.”
― Wendell Berry, Sex, Economy, Freedom, and Community: Eight Essays

Of Hobbits and Books

Peter Jackson’s movies have done a great service in making stories come to life on the big screen. One of his greatest accomplishments has been his ability to make The Hobbit (also known as The Hobbit, Or There and Back Again) by John Ronald Reuel Tolkien (J.R.R. Tolkien) accessible to all. He has created a trilogy of movies that are visually stunning; and, in doing so, he has opened the door to a world of wonder, adventure, battle, and the triumph of courage over despair. Yet, I can’t help but notice that some believe that because they have seen these movies, there is no longer a need to read the books. I have begun to ask people if they have ever read any of Tolkien’s books. Several, jokingly reply, “No, I don’t need to, I have seen the movies.”

I know that it is not easy to find the time to read nearly 300 pages of intricate prose in The Hobbit and over 1200 pages in The Lord of The Rings; yet, I do hope that people will continue to read these two books. For all of the hours of amazing film footage found in the 6 movies, there is still much that cannot be covered and much descriptive language that cannot possibly be brought to life in a movie of this nature.

Many years ago I introduced the Hobbit to my daughters as bedtime stories; and with them I relived the wonder as they pictured this world in their minds. We read many other books together including The Chronicles of Narnia (C.S. Lewis). Recently, a friend told me that he was reading The Hobbit to his daughter and I felt a sense of nostalgia at this simple joy. Reading aloud to another person is an experience in itself and allows both people to enjoy the book at another level. I suspect that my daughters still remember the voices of various characters and the tunes we made up for the songs and chants. Tolkien’s prose is some of the most poetic and evocative in the English language and speaks to deeper realities than the simple world of hobbits, dwarves, trolls, and elves.

Lately, my wife, Maureen, and I have been reading The Hobbit aloud to each other. Tolkien continues to speak to us of simple pleasures, profound fears, and great joys. Last night, as we were ending our day with the author's description of “The Last Homely House” in Rivendell, these words describing Elrond’s house captured our attention. We had to go back and read them multiple times.

"His house was perfect, whether you liked food, or sleep, or work, or story-telling, or singing, or just sitting and thinking best, or a pleasant mixture of them all. Evil things did not come into that valley.”[1]

Movies are able to impress our minds with a glorious picture of a location and may even make us want to go and experience “The Last Homely House.” But as Maureen and I read those two sentences, we were aware that these sentences meant more. They made us want to make our own home a place that was perfect for food, sleep, work, story-telling, singing, sitting and thinking, and a pleasant mixture of them all. We desired to create a place where “evil things” do not enter.

The narrative of The Hobbit reminds us that,

“. . . it is a strange thing, but things that are good to have and days that are good to spend are soon told about, and not much to listen to; while things that are uncomfortable, palpitating, and even gruesome, may make a good tale, and take a deal of telling anyway.”[2]

I think this may also be true of movies. The “days that are good to spend are soon told about” and painted in the scenery of the movie. The battles, that are “uncomfortable, palpitating, and even gruesome, may make a good tale” and fill the content of many a scene in the movie. I wonder, when we think of the movies, do we think of the scenes in Rivendell, or the scenes on the battle-field? What does one remember from reading the books?

C.S. Lewis, a man who made a living reading, writing, and giving lectures, had this to say about his emotions when it came to tea and books. “You can never get a cup of tea large enough or a book long enough to suit me.”[3] Perhaps we would do well to recover this feeling. On this rainy day in Calgary, I think I will go and put on the kettle!

---

[1] The Hobbit, Or There and Back Again;  John Ronald Reuel Tolkien; Random House, New York, 1982 Revised Edition; p. 51.

[2] The Hobbit, Or There and Back Again;  John Ronald Reuel Tolkien; Random House, New York, 1982 Revised Edition; p. 50.

[3] http://www.goodreads.com/quotes/2467-you-can-never-get-a-cup-of-tea-large-enough

Tolkien on Judging Others

J.R.R. Tolkien reminds us that we must not be hasty in judgment in this line from The Lord of the Rings trilogy. It is a good reminder to all of us.

 “Deserves it! I daresay he does. Many that live deserve death. And some that die deserve life. Can you give it to them? Then do not be too eager to deal out death in judgement. For even the very wise cannot see all ends.” 

― J.R.R. Tolkien, The Fellowship of the Ring

The Apostle Paul also reminds us not to be hasty in judgement but further reminds us to help each other in the church. In 1 Corinthians he distinguishes between judging those outside of the church and keeping order within the church.

When I wrote to you before, I told you not to associate with people who indulge in sexual sin. But I wasn’t talking about unbelievers who indulge in sexual sin, or are greedy, or cheat people, or worship idols. You would have to leave this world to avoid people like that. . . . It isn’t my responsibility to judge outsiders, but it certainly is your responsibility to judge those inside the church who are sinning. God will judge those on the outside; but as the Scriptures say, “You must remove the evil person from among you.”

1 Corinthians 5:9, 10, 12, 13

 This is challenging stuff to put into practice. I will seek daily to live by these words, even as I know I will struggle to live them out completely.