Books! To fling myself into a book, to be carried away to another world . . . [reading books] is literally how I have survived being here at all.
Anne Lamont
I know it’s happened to you.
After ordering a product on Amazon you’re suddenly bombarded with other items to buy. A hidden algorithm is scanning your interests to entice your consuming desires. My taste in books drives these consumer hound dogs crazy.
So far, my list of favorite books has lurched from science fiction to discipleship, from Christian mysticism to Irish history, with a detour to agrarian philosophy. I’m about to skew the algorithm again with another favorite, The Lord of the Rings. But everything is not as it seems . . . I won’t be citing Tolkien’s books but a book about Tolkien.
You may be thinking, “Not another sermon with The Lord of the Rings references!” The movies are twenty-four-hour feature on cable and citations of the book have become tiresome BUT this book about Tolkien is different. Why this book?
No book has taught me more about the SEDUCTIVE POWER OF EVIL than The Battle of Middle Earth: Tolkien’s Divine Design in The Lord of the Rings by pastor and theologian Fleming Rutledge. Rutledge explores the theology of the committed Roman Catholic J.R.R. Tolkien. She calls this “the deep narrative” — an almost hidden theology that informs and shapes the story line of The Rings.
You probably know the plot line of Tolkien’s epic story. The unblinking eye of Sauron atop the mountain of doom in Mordor is forming an army to conquer Middle Earth. Two faithful Hobbits of the Shire take on the task of destroying a gold ring that the evil eye is searching for to complete its thirst for power. Our reluctant heroes Frodo and Sam are entering into a battlefield; a battlefield that is more than it appears.
Navigating between the doctrines of grace and evil, Rutledge unpacks Tolkien’s story to reveal and explicate the meaning of these two realities. Like most of us, I’m familiar with grace but the personification of evil grabbed my heart’s attention. I have never thought seriously about the depth and enticing snare of evil. Rutledge pulls me into its abyss as she unlocks Tolkien’s deep narrative.
“[The Apostle Paul} and Tolkien both conceive of the world as a battlefield where opposing forces seek to win total possession of the entire world population . . .. Most of the New Testament envisions a third party [beside God and man], powerful and malevolent, determined and untiring, bent on nothing less than total usurpation of God’s throne.”
This is the relentless gaze of the unblinking, unsleeping eye of Mordor whose only desire is for power.
Our brave duo, with a small collection of friends, vow to halt this tide of conquest. Not only do they battle the obvious evil of trolls, orcs, and goblins but evil inhabits their allies and themselves — people who appear to be good.
Evil, notes Rutledge, “works upon the unsuspecting ‘good’ person in subtle, unblinking and profound [ways].” Evil has an everyday starting point. Here’s how she explains this:
“It is human nature to want to divide up the world into Good and Evil, always with ourselves and our own group on the Good side. . .. One of Tolkien’s aims is to demonstrate that in reality, such a line cannot be drawn, because ‘good’ people can be and are capable of evil under certain circumstances.”
Good and evil does “not run clearly between ‘them’ and ‘us,’ but through each person.” Evil is so powerful that we’re all susceptible to its allure. Sin’s depravity shows up in all of us. Our only hope is the divine intervention and assistance of our Heavenly Father to break its bondage.
If we’re honest, we’re like the disciples at the last supper who wonder which of them would betray Jesus (Luke 22:23. I think each felt that they were capable of this act. Rutledge concludes that “Tolkien’s grasp of the insidious power of evil to corrupt the best far outstrips most people’s [understanding].”
Here’s another blast of evil’s nature. “Evil is a vast excrescence, a monstrous contradiction that cannot be explained but only denounced and resisted wherever it appears.” Wow! Fleming believes that sin’s dominance is not “a little sin here and bigger sin there [but] Sin is a Power, in league with Death, and such Powers have lives of their own.” Therefore, “No created being, no one at all can be trusted with absolute power.” Only Jesus is the worthy King of our lives.
But there’s more.
This quest for dominance by the “Dark Power” takes an interest in the innocent hobbits “not because he needs them — he has more than enough servants already — but because hobbits as miserable slaves would please him more than hobbits happy and free,” writes Fleming.
Evil enslaves for its own ends. In the standoff between Gandalf and the evil wizard Saruman, it “becomes apparent that Saruman’s peers are fatally limited, for in the final analysis he can produce only slaves.” No one is there to help him; no one to love him. What a contrast to the friends who become the fellowship of the ring. They risk all for Frodo’s success. What a contrast to our relationship to a loving Lord who invites us to be His “friends” (John 15:7) not slaves.
Now the good news. The defeat of this power “cannot come from within the person himself; nor, in intractable cases, can the cure come from a purely human source,” declares Rutledge. “Only an intervention from another sphere of power can remove the cause of the paralysis, the insanity, the accursedness” of evil,” she writes. This is the hope and the promise of the Cross — God intervened in history defeating the evil one and enabling us to choose the good. “God in the person of his Son has invaded this occupied territory.”
On a practical level, how do we live in this battle zone? One means is the “fellowship of the ring,” the gathering and support of other believers (Ephesians 4:15-16). Rutledge explains it this way:
The Fellowship of the Ring is (among other things) an image of the church. It is a conglomeration of disparate elements, some of which (Elves and Dwarves) have been historic antagonists, yet each with a common calling, now “being joined and knit together.” When each part is “working properly” it is being “upbuilt in love,” as will gradually unfold [in the story]. . . . Resisting temptation is infinitely more difficult for the Christian when he or she is not securely logged in the community of faith.”
But what about grace? Laughter in the Lord of the Rings “usually denotes a breakthrough of divine grace,” writes Rutledge. “There’s not a great deal of humor in The Lord of the Rings, but what little there is makes a lasting impression. Gladness for Tolkien is a sign of salvation and hope.” The appearance of the “White Rider” — the wizard Gandalf — and the joy that follows “gives hope in the midst of the direst of circumstances.”
Grace shows up again when Gollum falls into the flaming abyss destroying himself and the ring. “Sam was overwhelmed with joy,” writes Tolkien. Sam’s burst of joy was not only because the battle for the ring was finished but the battle for Frodo’s soul was over. Joy and laughter are welcomed in the battle against evil.
What an appealing picture of grace! When grace breaks the bonds of sin, shouldn’t there be an eruption of joy and laughter? Shouldn’t a smile be a sign of a grace-filled person? Grace declares that we’re not worthy within ourselves for either salvation or sanctification, we need God’s intervening help to live in a battle-weary world (Ephesians 2:7,8; 2 Timothy 2:1).
Fleming Rutledge gave me a new understanding of evil’s enslaving power. Through Tolkien’s image-rich story I’m gripped by how “[My} enemy the devil prowls around like a roaring lion” (1 Peter 5:8) and I need the weapons and power of the “third party” in this battle — the Lord Himself (Ephesians 6:10-13). God has intervened through His Son, disarming the powers and authorities, making a public spectacle of their defeat through the cross (Colossians 2:15). The symbolic unblinking eye of Mordor has been and will be defeated.
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