June 2006


It was late last week that – though I had intended to set out on a deliberate wandering through Matthew Dickerson’s Following Gandalf – I instead got distracted and necessarily delayed. Believing it important to clarify a possible misconception regarding Tolkien and Middle-earth, I wrote an explanation of what Tolkien (and C.S. Lewis) meant when they referred to Christianity and the Gospel as “True Myth.” Having made the distinction between that which is true – the Bible – and that which merely approximates and approaches truth – The Silmarillion, The Lord of the Rings, Unfinished Tales, and other writings of Tolkien – I turn now to Dickerson’s book itself.

As I wrote in that earlier post, there has been no book (other than Scripture and Tolkien’s works) that has influenced, encouraged, enlightened, or informed me more about the reality and nature of Middle-earth – and, indeed, my own spiritual life – than Following Gandalf. Dickerson, who teaches at Middlebury College (VT), was director of the New England Young Writer’s Conference at Breadloaf at the time he wrote his book. Speaking of Tolkien’s influence on his own life, Dickerson said Tolkien’s writings have been

a constant, profound influence throughout my whole life, helping me to be a better thinker and a more imaginative person. And, of course, it’s not just my thinking but the training of my moral imagination to try to live out moral virtue heroically.” – (personal email)

I found the last fragments of that comment – “the training of my moral imagination” and attempting “to live out moral virtue heroically” to be a concise and insightful description of the impact Following Gandalf has had on me and those with whom I have shared and discussed the book. Hopefully, in this series of posts, I can convey a small part of that influence to you. To accomplish that, I will rely on Dickerson’s own words a great deal.

The book begins with an explanation of the title itself: Following Gandalf. Dickerson places us in Minas Tirith at a time when almost everything seems to be going wrong and allows us, along with Pippin, to capture a sense about Gandalf that might easily be overlooked. Following an exchange and interrogation involving Denethor, Gandalf, and Pippin, Tolkien writes,

Pippin glanced in some wonder at the face now close beside his own, for the sound of that laugh had been gay and merry. Yet in the wizard’s face he saw at first only lines of care and sorrow; though as he looked more intently he perceived that under all there was a great joy: a fountain of mirth enough to set a kingdom laughing, were it to gush forth.” – - ROTK, p 742

Reflecting on this intriguing passage, Dickerson asks rhetorically and immediately answers,

Could it be the case that Gandalf has some sort of wisdom or knowledge that penetrates beyond what is visible to everybody else – the desperation of the situation that is so evident to Pippin and Denethor – and enables the wizard to take hope and joy in something invisible that is nonetheless real and true? . . . Gandalf is aware that there is both a seen world and an unseen world; reality includes both a material plane and a spiritual plane. Furthermore, these two planes touch upon each other and affect each other.” – FG, p 12

Dickerson’s approach in his book is to view the story of The Lord of the Rings from Gandalf’s perspective, i.e., from the perspective of one who looks not only upon that which is seen but upon that which is not seen, as well. Gandalf’s perspective is, ultimately, an eternal perspective.

Dickerson continues,

The point of this book, however, is that Tolkien’s deep philosophical and theological convictions also course thoroughly through the veins of his work. In particular, Tolkien’s understanding of Man (male and female) as having been created in the image of a Creator – and thus not only being endowed with the possibility of real moral choice, but being given the corresponding responsibility that goes with it – is the central theme in his writing.” – FG, p 13

Even as Tolkien’s saga is timeless, so is Dickerson’s book timeless to a large extent. Nevertheless, Dickerson’s 2003 book is also timely, even as Tolkien’s was in its initial release (1955). Following Gandalf provides insight into the times during which Tolkien wrote. Along with Lewis, Tolkien in his writings was reacting to a philosophical shift and social sea change. As he draws our attention to the changes going on in our own day, Dickerson notes,

Tolkien’s basic philosophical beliefs were also in contradiction to the prevailing materialist presuppositions of modernism as well as the relativism of postmodernism, especially with respect to his views on human free will and objective morality.” – FG, p 14

Dickerson ends his introduction by illuminating two additional, major themes that occur throughout his own book as well as The Lord of the Rings:

. . . a central theme in all of Tolkien’s writing: the reality of human free will and the moral responsibility that goes with it. It is the ‘doom of choice,’ as Aragorn calls it when questioned by Éomer. . . .

Underlying this whole discussion is Tolkien’s belief that the reality of the universe involves both spiritual and physical planes: both the seen and unseen dimensions. Tolkien was challenging his readers to look beyond the temporal values of the moment to see the eternal values where the spiritual and physical planes come together: at eternity. – FG, p 17

Next: Following Gandalf . . . to war

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Namárië.

This is long overdue: if there has been any single book, apart from The Lord of the Rings or The Silmarillion, that has opened my eyes to the riches of Middle-earth, it is Matthew Dickerson’s Following Gandalf.

Although “only” 234 pages in length, Following Gandalf is packed with more insight and biblical truth than any other commentary on Tolkien of which I am aware. This is not to say that others are not valuable or insightful in their own right, but only that Dickerson’s book treats a breadth of spiritual issues with surprising depth in a relatively short work.

I have, of course, reviewed other books and will review still more in the future. Following Gandalf, however, deserves more than that, so thought-provoking as it is. So I’m going to blog my way through the book, chapter-by-chapter and, sometimes, point-by-point. I have been leading a study of Christian themes, virtues, and values in Tolkien’s writings for several months now; Following Gandalf has been the text we have used and profited from tremendously. my goal is to be able to convey some of Dickerson’s wisdom and insights in this series.

This post, however, does not address Dickerson’s work but is meant to serve as a necessary foundation for it. In this post I will spend some time discussing a critical subject in Tolkien and one that is often misunderstood, i.e., his description of the Gospel as “True Myth.” Once that has been accomplished, I will begin to work through Following Gandalf.

It is important to discuss what Tolkien meant by calling the story of salvation a “myth” because his meaning is very different from that which we have today. “Myth” or even “fairy stories” were not escapist or purely fantastical writings; for Tolkien (and C.S. Lewis) myth was a literary form that allowed for the expression of truths not able to be explained in other forms. Tolkien wrote,

After all, 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; and long ago certain truths and modes of this kind were discovered and must always reappear.” (Letters, p 147)

In the following quote from his classic work “On Fairy-Stories,” Tolkien uses the term “fairy-story” as virtually synonymous with “myth.” He explains,

The Gospels contain a fairy-story, or a story of a larger kind which embraces all the essence of fairy-stories. They contain many marvels – peculiarly artistic, beautiful, and moving: ‘mythical’ in their perfect, self-contained significance; and among the marvels is the greatest and most complete conceivable eucatastrophe [the good outcome, ending, or consolation]. But this story has entered History and the primary world; the desire and aspiration of sub-creation has been raised to the fulfillment of Creation. The Birth of Christ is the eucatastrophe of Man’s history. The Resurrection is the eucatastrophe of the story of the Incarnation. This story begins and ends in joy. It has pre-eminently the ‘inner consistency of reality.’ There is no tale ever told that men would rather find was true, and one which so many sceptical men have accepted as true on its own merits. For the Art of it has the supremely convincing tone of Primary Art, that is, of Creation. To reject it leads to sadness or to wrath.” (Tolkien Reader, pp 88-89)

Tolkien, and C.S. Lewis as well, believed that myth was a means of communicating truth that could not be conveyed in any other way. All myths and all religions, they argued, contained some aspect, some distorted reflection of the True Myth, which is the Gospel as revealed in the Bible. Myths – and especially intentionally pre-Christian myths such as The Lord of the Rings – were meant to reflect and point to the one Myth that has entered history and reality in the Person of Jesus Christ. God’s story – the Gospel – is found in all the distorted writings and imaginings of fallen people, people who still bear the image of God but are unable to apprehend or express the full meaning of the True Myth.
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Namárië.

Christianity Today has a good article by Mark Moring posted today entitled (oddly enough) “Whither Frodo and Jesus?.” It questions the omission of the LOTR and any movies regarding Jesus in AFI’s list of 100 most inspirational films. Here’s the teaser:

How could the American Film Institute have missed The Return of the King when picking its list of the 100 Most Inspiring Films of All Time? And not a single movie about Jesus? What’s up with THAT?



Namárië.

My posting has been so sparse of late that I feel as though I need to apologize to those readers of The Lord of the Kingdom – both of you – that click by to see if I’ve gotten around to anything new. I don’t think my dearth of writing is due to the well being dry but rather to my wondering if I drink from the same well as most Christians in the cyberchurch. I’m having the same struggle at Eternal Perspectives.

Hear my confession (Part Uno): I get bored – quickly – with vast majority of the so-called discussions that take place online. Take, for example, the current skirmish that could erupt into a genuine massacre at any time. (I say “massacre” not because one side is going to so devastate the other, but because it will be yet another instance of the Name of Christ being sullied as two or more bloggers attempt to tear theological limb from theological limb from one another. Shades of the Black K-nig-it. Not a great testimony to either the love or unity to which we are commanded.)

The simmering feud to which I’m referring, of course, is the “Name-that-Beast of the Week in Revelation” between Tim Challies, Joe Carter, Andy Jackson, and the sometimes-incindiary posts of John Schroeder. Tim says the Roman Church “seems to be,” “might be,” “could be” the Beast, or, uh, antichrist, I mean some metaphorical being from John’s final writings, while Andy says, “no way.” Joe takes Tim to task for being illogical in his post and John faults Tim specifically and generally for hedging his statements behind statements with plausible deniability. iMonk comments that he’s in favor of people saying what they mean and meaning what they say, i.e., speaking dogmatically and not tiptoeing around. This is not surprising coming from Michael, who is anything but hypocritical in this regard and could be the poster boy for straight talking – even if sometimes his message might be a tad bent. Like mine. And yours.

Regardless, I find all of this tediously boring and an utter waste of time and talent. Is this what Paul meant when he told us that we should be “making the most of your time, because the days are evil”? I seriously doubt it.

Let’s say, for argument’s sake, that I have been able to accurately identify the Beast of Revelation. After years to exegetical, historical, and theological work – and also reading the Gnostic gospels and even The Da Vinci Code – I determine that the Beast of Revelation is Alec Baldwin, erstwhile actor and expert on everything.

(Now, I could have picked Ann Coulter except (a) the Beast seems to be male and, unless I need new glasses, there’s not much about Ann that looks masculine, and (b) I like Ann a lot more than I like Alec. I’m also confident that some of you have noticed that I put Alec on the right and Ann on the left: this is what’s known as irony in my own sardonic, iconoclastic mind.)

At any rate, so I determine beyond any doubt that the Beast of Revelation is Alec Baldwin – and maybe even that Ann Coulter is the whore of Babylon. Now what? What do I, as a Christian, do about this amazing discovery? First, of course, being pretribulational in my theology, I have to make some changes to my eschatology. Nothing too earth-shattering about that. I also might have to change my feelings about Ann but, again, it’s not like we exchange Christmas cards or she has me on speed dial.

So what’s the point? Knowing the identity of the Beast or whore doesn’t change my life one bit: I’m no more responsible now than previously to love people, share the gospel, care for the poor and needy, be a faithful steward of creation, and live a holy life. The only benefit, as far as I can tell, is that I have ruled out myself as either the Beast or the whore, along with a lot of others. I suppose I’m freed from having to love Alec or Ann, but – and this is a horrible confession (Part Dos) I am about to make – I really don’t pray for either one of them anyway.

That may make me a horrible Christian but, thanks to my discovery, it doesn’t make me the Beast or the whore.

Whew!

So I languish in my thoughts about whether or not to spend my time trying to talk sense into people who know more than they understand or need to establish an identity by being contrary. I’m not sure that is the wisest investment of my time or a practice of “making the most of” my time during these evil days.

Thus, posting may continue to be sparse. When I do write something, however, I hope it will be something of a reality check for those of you who do read. One of my missions, as described in the header of Eternal Perspectives, is “searching for sanity in a Christian culture gone mad.”

When the patients are running the psych ward, it’s not easy.

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Namárië.