For the first half of this topic, see Of Genesis and the Ainulindalë. As in the earlier post, Tolkien’s text is taken from Morgoth’s Ring rather than The Silmarillion.
The previous post ended with the surprising disclosure that Ilúvatar (Eru, i.e., God) would be extremely pleased and find so much enjoyment in the singing of the Ainur (and, later, his Children). He had created them, their individual songs, and the unifying and glorifying theme that they now produced for his delight. Tolkien, to this point, has presented a view of the heavenlies in their original, pristine, perfect, and harmonious condition.
Even as in the Book of Genesis, however, such harmony tragically does not endure:
§5 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 has a share in all the gifts of his brethren; and he had gone often alone into the void places seeking the Imperishable Flame. For desire grew hot with 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.”
Here is a paragraph reflecting profound theological truths that have their orgins and reality in the Bible. Melkor, as explained elsewhere, is the Satan of Middle-earth, the archangel who rebelled against his creator. Tolkien provides some thought-provoking glimpses into the rebellious mind of the evil one. Paul tells us that the attitude leading to the condemnation of the devil was conceit (1 Tim 3.6); one possible way of rendering τυφοω (Gr. typhoo, translated “conceit” here and in 2 Tim 3.4) is “to be blind because of pride.”
Paul’s words are an appropriate description of Melkor’s actions described by Tolkien here: his rebellion originates from “his own imagining” that was contrary to what Ilúvatar originally had instilled within him. The Ainur had been given the freedom to add to the theme that Ilúvatar had created, but only in keeping with the original, harmonious nature he had provided them.
And to Melkor had Ilúvatar given much! He not only has the greatest power and gifts of all the Ainur, but to some degree also shares the abilities given to each of the other Ainur. Such privilege and prestige is more than he can control: he desires “to increase the power and glory” that he already possesses, wanting to be more than what God has created him to be. He fails to be content with his high status and seeks to become more than was intended. Like the angels mentioned by Jude (v. 6), he is not satisfied with the domain given him; thinking more highly of himself than was true, he pursues his ambitions of conceit.
But he not only finds his own gifts and powers to be unacceptable and deficient, he also believes that all that was given to the other Ainur to be less than adequate and not to his liking. Thus, he begins “to conceive thoughts of his own” that are unlike any that his brethren might have and that are contrary to what he himself should have.
Melkor goes alone - and often - into the pre-creation Void in search of “the Imperishable Flame.” To seek to possess the Secret Fire is to desire to become the author of life, to be a creator even as God is the Creator. Not content to be the greatest and highest of Ilúvatar’s creatures in a magnificent creation, Melkor wants to establish his own creation and fill it with life so that he might be as God is. He does not find the Fire because he fails to see that this Flame Imperishable - life itself - is not a creation or possession of Ilúvatar but rather is an attribute of him, part of his essence. Even as Yahweh has the quality of aseity - to have life in Himself, independent of any external source - so too does Ilúvatar have such life. He shares life with his creatures, though not all of his creation; forever, however, the life belongs to the Creator. Melkor looks in vain in the Void for what may only be found in Ilúvatar.
§6 Some of these thoughts he now wove into his music, and straightway discord arose about him, and many that sang nigh him grew despondent and their thought was disturbed and their music faltered; but some began to attune their music to his rather than to the thought which they had at first. Then the discord of Melkor spread ever wider, and the melodies that had been heard at first foundered in a sea of turbulent sound. But Ilúvatar sat and hearkened, until it seemed that about his throne there was a raging storm, as of dark waters that made war one upon the other in an endless wrath that would not be assuaged.”
§7 Then Ilúvatar arose, and the Ainur perceived that he smiled; and he lifted up his left hand, and a new theme began amid the storm, like and yet unlike to the former theme, and it gathered power and had new beauty. But the discord of Melkor arose in uproar and contended with it, and there was again a war of sound more violent than before, until many of the Ainur were dismayed and played no longer, and Melkor had the mastery. Then again Ilúvatar arose, and the Ainur perceived that his countenance was stern; and he lifted up his right hand; and behold, a third theme grew amid the confusion, and it was unlike the others. For it seemed at first soft and sweet, a mere rippling of gentle sounds in delicate melodies, but it could not be quenched, and it grew, and it took to itself power and profundity . . .
The heart of Melkor is exposed: he introduces his own thoughts, his own competing theme into the theme of Ilúvatar; disharmony results. Melkor chooses to go beyond the bounds decreed by Ilúvatar, following his own desires; his sin - for so it was - mars the theme and disturbs some around him: some are silent while others are persuaded to join him in his defiant, discordant music. Tolkien is making a point: sin is not an isolated or individual act, for it affects those around us, at the very least upsetting some or, worse, causing others to leave the path of obedience, wisdom, and righteousness and to follow in rebellion, foolishness, and sin.
The longsuffering of Ilúvatar is manifested in his response to Melkor’s devices. At first Ilúvatar smiles, then he is stern; both times, however, he takes what Melkor has introduced and transforms it into a theme and music superior to what preceeded it. The purposes of Ilúvatar, Tolkien is demonstrating, cannot be thwarted.
But Melkor does not give up, and once again brings forth music so loud and violent that the gentle theme of Ilúvatar is drowned beneath it. Tolkien continues:
§8 In the midst of this strife, whereat the halls of Ilúvatar shook and a tremor ran out into the silences yet unmoved, Ilúvatar arose a third time, and his face was terrible to behold. Then he raised up both hands, and in one chord, deeper than the Abyss, higher than the Firmament, more glorious than the Sun, piercing as the light of the eye of Ilúvatar, the Music ceased.
§9 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 and played, lo! 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 has not its uttermost source in me, nor can any alter the music in my despite. For he that attempteth this shall be but mine instrument in the devising of things more wonderful, which he himself hath not imagined.”
The displeasure of God is unveiled only partially, and the power of God is declared emphatically. No one, no matter how great or powerful, can ultimately deny Ilúvatar his purposes. Further, no one can produce anything that cannot and will not ultimately be traced back to the power and creativity that belongs to Ilúvatar alone. All that God’s creatures are enabled to do is reflect His creativity: we may embellish or (to employ Tolkien’s favored term) become “sub-creators” along with God. But even if our motivations are contrary to His desires and purposes, He will easily transform our evil works into something glorious and contrary to our own intentions.
All the singing and all the themes are soon revealed to have a purpose in addition to the pleasure of Ilúvatar. After declaring his undeniable power and purposes, Ilúvatar further instructs the Ainur, including Melkor.
§11 But when they were come into the Void, Ilúvatar said to them: ‘Behold your Music!’ 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.
§12 And when the Ainur had gazed for a while and were silent, Ilúvatar said again: ‘Behold your Music! This is your ministrelsy; and each of you that had part in it shall find contained there, within the design that I set before you, all those things which it may seem that he himself devised or added. And thou, Melkor, wilt discover all the secret thoughts of thy mind, and wilt perceive that they are but a part of the whole and tributary to its glory.’”
The Music of the Ainur emerges as the means through which Ilúvatar creates the universe (Eá) and earth (Arda). He continues in his instruction, telling the Ainur much of his purposes and sharing with them portions of his knowledge. But none of the Ainur knows all, neither do all the Ainur combined know fully, for Ilúvatar keeps to himself all that is in store for the creation that came about through the singing of the Ainur. Tolkien adds that “in every age there come forth things that are new and have no foretelling, for they do not spring from the past,” Ilúvatar is not some deistic Being uninvolved in his creation, but continues to create and sustain through all time. Tolkien continues:
And so it was that, as this vision of the World was played before them, the Ainur saw that it contained things which they had not thought. And they saw with amazement the coming of the Children of Ilúvatar, and the habitation that was prepared for them; and they perceived that they themselves in the labour of their music had been busy with the preparation of this dwelling, and yet knew not that it had any purpose beyond its own beauty. For the Children of Ilúvatar were conceived by him alone; and they came with the Third Theme, and were not in the theme which Ilúvatar propounded at the beginning, and none of the Ainur had part in their making. Therefore when they beheld them, the more did they love them, being things other than themselves, strange and free, wherein they saw the mind of Ilúvatar reflected anew and learned yet a little more of his wisdom, which otherwise had been hidden even from the Holy Ones.”
The Children of Ilúvatar were the direct and special creation of him alone; none of the Ainur envisioned or anticipated his Children, i.e., the Elves and Men. Even as Gen 2 provides us with the logical preparation and provision for human life on earth, so the Ainur recognize that Ilúvatar has prepared Arda through their music for the coming of Elves - the Firstborn - and Men - the Followers. But Ilúvatar alone creates the Children; he shares this glory with no other.
The elect Ainur (if they may be deemed as such) respond with love: they love the Children because they love the father of the Children. Through the Children the Ainur learn more of the mind and nature of Ilúvatar, aspects hidden forever if Elves and Men do not come into existence in Arda.
Psalms 8 and 19 leap to mind at the reading of Tolkien’s description of the coming of the Children of Ilúvatar. The creation of life in these two races - or in humankind in the Bible - are the crowning acts of creation. Much may be known of Ilúvatar and Yahweh through the coming of these creatures, attributes that otherwise would be beyond finding out.
For the choir director. A Psalm of David.
1 The heavens are telling of the glory of God;
And their expanse is declaring the work of His hands.
2 Day to day pours forth speech,
And night to night reveals knowledge.
3 There is no speech, nor are there words;
Their voice is not heard.
4 Their line has gone out through all the earth,
And their utterances to the end of the world.
In them He has placed a tent for the sun,
5 Which is as a bridegroom coming out of his chamber;
It rejoices as a strong man to run his course.
6 Its rising is from one end of the heavens,
And its circuit to the other end of them;
And there is nothing hidden from its heat.
- Ps 19.1-6
For the choir director; on the Gittith. A Psalm of David
3 When I consider Your heavens, the work of Your fingers,
The moon and the stars, which You have ordained;
4 What is man that You take thought of him,
And the son of man that You care for him?
5 Yet You have made him a little lower than God,
And You crown him with glory and majesty!
6 You make him to rule over the works of Your hands;
You have put all things under his feet,
7 All sheep and oxen, And also the beasts of the field,
8 The birds of the heavens and the fish of the sea,
Whatever passes through the paths of the seas.
9 O LORD, our Lord, How majestic is Your name in all the earth!
- Ps 8.3-9
Namárië.
“I believe that legends and myths are largely made of ‘truth,’ and indeed present aspects of it that can only be received in this mode,” J.R.R. Tolkien explained in a 1951 letter to Milton Waldman, “and long ago certain truths and modes of this kind were discovered and must always reappear. There cannot be any ’story’ without a fall - all stories are ultimately about the fall - at least not for human minds as we know them and have them.”
Tolkien’s Middle-earth mythology, consisting of remarkable truth gleaned from the Bible and being buried in the histories and landscapes of Arda (Earth), parallels the Bible with its own account of Creation and the Fall. Even as Genesis 1-3 provides us with an unveiled look at true history, so does the Ainulindalë provide visitors to and residents of Middle-earth with a mythological understanding of Creation and the Fall.
The Ainulindalë has been called Tolkien’s most beautiful piece of writing, and not without cause: the language is rich and the imagery vivid; more significantly, the mythology contained within the Ainulindalë confronts the reader with a fresh look at the marvelous creation all around and anticipates beauty and wonder we will perhaps one day behold. It is hard to read the Ainulindalë and not be reminded of the importance of singing, creativity, the angels, and the Fall as depicted in Scripture; it is also difficult for anyone with a spiritual pulse not to come away from such a reading with a deeper appreciation of God’s creation and the horror of Sin that has so marred what He desired to be so beautiful.
Following are selections from the earliest pages of the Ainulindalë, i.e., “The Music of the Ainur.” This version is found in Morgoth’s Ring and thus reads differently at times from that version recorded in The Silmarillion.
§1 There was Ilúvatar, the All-father, 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.”
It is obvious that Ilúvatar, also known as Eru, is a distorted reflection of Yahweh Elohim in the Bible. Ilúvatar is pre-existent at the time of Creation and first creates the Ainur, or angels, which were “the offspring of his thought.” All that exists at this point are Eru and the Ainur, and they sing according to that part of the thoughts or mind of their Creator.
§2 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 spendour of its end amazed the Ainur, so that they bowed before Ilúvatar and were silent.
§3 Then said Ilúvatar: ‘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.”
Several magnificent concepts are worth noting in these two paragraphs. First is the theme which Ilúvatar declares to the Ainur: so great and wonderous is his theme that all fell silent and worshiped him. In the Bible, this is the to-be-expected response of anyone who so much as catches a glimpse of the glory of God: an awe that overwhelms and silences any - angel or human - that beholds Him; it results in an almost-involuntary worship of Him.
The Ainur then are instructed to sing in harmony, thus introducing a thread that continues throughout Tolkien’s writings, i.e., the importance of community: the harmony of all surpasses the beauty of any individual song. One or a few of the Ainur singing was wonderful, but the music of all singing the theme of Ilúvatar surpasses all else.
The term “Flame Imperishable” may seem vaguely familiar to those who have read The Lord of the Rings or merely seen the movies. Gandalf, standing on the Bridge of Khazâd-dûm, declares to the Balrog that the wizard is a servant of the “Secret Fire,” a term synonymous with the “Flame Imperishable.” The Secret Fire is the life force of Middle-earth and the entire universe; it is the equivalent (although not personal) of the Holy Spirit. Possessing life and the gift of creativity, the Ainur are given the privilege and freedom to adorn the theme as they will.
Perhaps most heart-warming and remarkable, however, is the intention of Ilúvatar: he will sit, listen, and enjoy the beauty that springs from the combined songs of the Ainur. The Creator takes untold pleasure in the creature doing and being what it was created to do and be. It is why we sing today, why the angels sing in heaven even now, and why we will all sing when we are with God in the new heaven and new earth. Tolkien provides a glimpse of the grandeur of the moment:
§4 The the voices of the Ainur, like unto harps and lutes, and pipes and trumpets, and viols and organs, and like unto countless choirs singing with words, began to fashion the theme of Ilúvatar to a great music; and a sound arose of endless interchanging melodies, woven into harmony, that passed beyond the hearing into the depths and into the heights, and the places of the dwelling of Ilúvatar were filled to overflowing, and the music and the echo of the music went out into the Void, and it was not void.”
So magnificent is the music of the Ainur that it flows over into what was previously void and begins to fill the void. Heaven, Tolkien is saying, could not contain or constrain the beauty of that which Ilúvatar made possible through the Ainur. The description continues:
Never since have the Ainur made any music like to this music, though it has been said that a greater still shall be made before Ilúvatar by the choirs of the Ainur and the Children of Ilúvatar after the end of days. Then shall the themes of Ilúvatar be played aright, and take Being in the moment of their utterance, for all shall then understand his intent in their part, and shall know the comprehension of each, and Ilúvatar shall give to their thoughts the secret fire, being well pleased.”
Here a stunning suggestion or suspicion is uttered by Tolkien: as wondrous and pleasing as the singing of the angels is to Ilúvatar, even greater will be his enjoyment when the Children of Ilúvatar - Elves and Men - join in the music. We have no hint of this in Scripture, but it is a reasonable and incredible inference: somehow, in our glorified bodies, Christians will join with the elect angels of heaven to produce the most wonderfully pleasing music heard in all eternity.
Tolkien’s view not merely of heaven but of God is astounding, deep, and extraordinarily personal. The grace of God is so great that He takes a redeemed sinner, one who was responsible for the death of His Son, and allows him or her to be a part of the most glorious singing every heard. It is all to His glory and for His pleasure, for so He finds ineffable enjoyment in His redeemed.
Oh, the depth of the riches both of the wisdom and knowledge of God! How unsearchable are His judgments and unfathomable His ways!” - Rom 11.33
Next: Disharmony Enters the Creation
Namárië.
Sun 2 Apr 2006
The second-born son of Denethor II, the Steward of Gondor during the War of the Rings, Faramir was also the younger brother of Boromir, one of the members of the Fellowship of the Ring. Following the death of Boromir, Faramir became next in line to be Steward upon the death of his father. “He succeeded his father during the Siege of Miras Tirith (March, 3019),” notes Tyler, “and he ordered the affairs of the City until the crowning of King Elessar in May, when he was given the princedom of Ithilien.”
Duriez adds,
A Dúnadan, Faramir was Captain of the Rangers of Ithilien when he encountered the Ring-bearers Frodo and Sam on their quest to destroy the One Ring. Though a brave warrior, Faramir had a gentle and courteous disposition, like Aragorn the ideal Christian hero . . . While recovering from his wounds in the War of the Ring, he fell in love with Éowyn, the battle-maiden of Rohan, later marrying her.”
Dickerson, in Following Gandalf, understands Faramir to be one of the wise of Middle-earth and thus someone to be emulated and admired. One of the first attributes Faramir demonstrates is a sense of spirituality as reflected in his (and his men’s) pauses before meals to face West:
Faramir is interesting for several reasons. For one, he is one of the few characters - along with Elrond and Gandalf - who make any allusion to a Divine Authority . . . Even if one has not read The Silmarillion, and thus does not recognize ‘that which is beyond Elvenhome and will ever be’ as Eru Ilúvatar, the Creator, it is still hard not to understand this action as a sort of prayer. Whatever the reader thinks of prayer, in Tolkien’s world it is a mark of humility and wisdom to acknowledge one’s dependence on something beyond oneself - as Gandalf and Elrond often do - and such an acknowledgement is at the heart of prayer.”
In these words, Dickerson provides two excellent reasons why all men - but especially believers - ought always to pray: it is a mark of humility to acknowledge One who is greater, and it is a mark of wisdom to recognize one’s dependence on God. It is the giving of thanks for the necessities of life and not necessarily a request for more of what one already has enough.
Dickerson also finds significance in Faramir’s choice of people to follow and imitate. This fact does not go unnoticed by his father, Denethor:
Your bearing is lowly in my presence, yet it is long now since you turned from your own way at my counsel. See, you have spoken skilfully as ever; but I, have I not seen your eye fixed on Mithrandir [Gandalf], seeking whether you said well or too much? He has long had your heart in his keeping . . . Boromir was faithful to me and no wizard’s pupil.” - ROTK, pp. 794-795.
For reasons to be explained shortly, Faramir looked to Gandalf and not his own father for wisdom and proper conduct. This is due, Dickerson says, to Faramir’s insight into both his father and brother.
Whereas Faramir has a very good understanding of his father and brother - of their strengths as well as their weaknesses - and he can appreciate them for who they are, there is little indication that Denethor has much understanding of his younger son.”
Not only does Faramir understand other people, he understands the times and the horror of war. As one who values all life, he says to Frodo, “I do not slay man or beast needlessly, and not gladly even when it is needed” (TT, p. 650). Tolkien later puts the following words of wisdom concerning war - even a just war - on the lips of Faramir:
War must be, while we defend our lives against a destroyer who would devour all; but I do not love the bright sword for its sharpness, nor the arrow for its swiftness, nor the warrior for his glory. I love only that which they defend: the city of the Men of Númenor; and I would have her loved for her memory, her ancientry, her beauty, and her present wisdom. Not feared, save as men may fear the dignity of a man, old and wise.” - TT, p. 656.
Faramir is sadly aware of how far his country has fallen from the days when it was considered a dwelling place of High People (in contrast to Middle People - such as the men of Rohan - or Wild People, the men of darkness). Faramir’s observations about his country is followed by Dickerson’s comment,
‘Yet now, if the Rohirrim are grown in some ways more like to us, enhanced in arts and gentleness, we too have become more like to them, and can scarce claim any longer the title High. We are become Middle Men, of the Twilight, but with memory of other things. For as the Rohirrim do, we now love war and valour as things good in themselves, both a sport and an end; and though we still hold that a warrior should have more skills and knowlege than only the craft of weapons and slaying, we esteem a warrior, nonetheless, above men of other crafts.’” - TT, p. 663
“Faramir sees the love of war, the practice of war as a sport, and the esteeming of the warrior not as signs of the current glory of Gondor, but rather as signs of its fall.”
Faramir, perhaps, is an example of true stewardship and true humility. He is a man who understands his place and his duty and does not aspire for more. He is a steward of the king and, as a Dúnadan, a shepherd of people. He will go to war if he must, but only an evil that threatens all that is fair, beautiful, good, and right moves him to such action.
Faramir is a man of faith, of humility, of service, and of loyalty. He exemplifies Christ in this regard and is one of the truly wise and great characters that dwell in Middle-earth.
Namárië.
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