in search of areté

Avallónnë. First Age. – Tales should begin at the beginning if ever they are to have an end, and so too must this account of my own time with the Maia Tolkien and our time in Middle-earth begin. But, while the accounts recorded here are true, the impressions and reflections birthed by them are not necessarily so, for while I (being a Firstborn) confess to having a great interest in those called Secondborn, I nevertheless make no claim to infallibility with regards to them.

This tale grew in the telling, until it became a history of the Great War of the Ring and included many glimpses of the yet more ancient history that preceded it. It was begun soon after The Hobbit was written and before its publication in 1937; but I did not go on with this sequel, for I wished first to complete and set in order the mythology and legends of the Elder Days, which had then been taking shape for some years.”

So did Tolkien begin his notation upon his subcreation. It is not without significance that in bringing the lost history of Middle-earth to light that he would begin with a wordless thought, which then became a creative word. This is how all things came into being, whether created or subcreated: the thought was first in the Mind of God (He whom we call Eru and Illúvatar) and He spoke into existence the sum of all Creation (Ëa, the Universe; Arda, the world). Though Tolkien did labor to bring his subcreation to life, not so with God, for He needed only to think the thought and say the word and all that is then came to be.

So it is with all subcreations: it begins with a thought – for good or ill – and is manifested through intent. God has granted to His children, the Firstborn Elves and Secondborn Men alike, to share in His creativity.

Lest we fall into the error of Fëanor, however, we must take care to prevent that which we devise to be corrupted by our own bent natures. Elves and Men alike are subject to roaming wills and faithless desires, forgetting our First Love and pursuing that which cannot satisfy in the end.

All subcreations, whether physical or mental, must be a means of worshiping and glorifying God, and never the foci of our worship and devotion themselves. It is for Him alone that we have been created and only in Him alone that we will find our final destiny and joy.

I should like to say that I am immensely fond of you all, and that the past few years is too short a time to live among such excellent and admirable bloggers. I don’t know half of you half as well as I should like; and I like less than half of you half as well as you deserve.” – (with apologies to Bilbo and J.R.R. Tolkien)

Well, a sabbatical of sorts.

Life is happening to me and one of the casualties is blogging. Unless and until I can get some important things straightened out, I won’t be doing much writing.

To squelch any rumors, this isn’t a personal issue but a professional one. Marriage, family, and everything else is fine; professionally, I’m reinventing and overhauling myself. The good news is that I’ve got more vision and energy for my practice than I have for some time: I love having the privilege of doing clinical discipleship with people. But the bad news is that it takes a lot of time and energy; consequently, blogging will be taking a holiday for an indefinite period of time. All I can promise is an infrequent post when something compels me to write.

Otherwise, this blog is going to be pretty quiet. I’ll still be stalking other blogs, but writing is far too time consuming if it is done properly.

Matthew Dickerson, in his first chapter of Following Gandalf (FG), defends J.R.R. Tolkien from the curious – not to mention spurious – charge that the author glorfies war in his history of Middle-earth and especially in the War of the Ring. In this post, I will summarizes Dickerson’s arguments – which sufficiently refute the accusation – but also discuss Tolkien’s philosophy on war as reflected in The Lord of the Rings (LOTR) and his other writings. As a veteran of World War I, Tolkien had first-hand knowledge of the horrors: several friends died in unnamed trenches in Europe during that war. Just over three decades later, as a father of two sons involved in World War II, he suffered through the long nights of a parent wondering about the well-being of his children. Thus, as a soldier and as a parent, Tolkien knew war far too well.

Undoubtedly some of my own thoughts, influenced as they especially have been of late by Tolkien, will find their way into the discussion (most of my own ideas, however, will be the subject of a subsequent post). Since I believe many Christians have an incorrect, inadequate, or incomplete understanding of war – I would include myself in this group for most of my Christian life – working through this issue is critical. Trying to come to a biblical perspective on war has been a pursuit of mine for more than three decades. I have tried to keep in mind my own personal biases and not be blindly affected by my experiences during the time of the Vietnam War; my goal in this, as in everything, is the impossible one of trying to discover the mind of God on this matter.

Hobbits and War

To effectively rebut the charge that Tolkien glorifies war, Dickerson looks at significant battles recorded by the author in The Hobbit(TH) and the LOTR. There are five battles that are considered, beginning with the Battle of Five Armies at the conclusion of TH and continuing on to the Skirmish with the Southrons, the Battle of Helm’s Deep, the Battle of Pelennor Fields, and the Battle at the Black Gate.

Dickerson identifies two keys to understanding Tolkien’s view of war: the first is the perspective of hobbits; the second is the nature of the battle itself.

A hobbit is present at four of the five battles (there is no hobbit present at Helm’s Deep) and it is from the hobbits’ thoughts that we see Tolkien’s own attitudes come to the surface. Bilbo, of course, is present at the first battle but Tolkien does not provide the reader with much in-depth detail of the fighting nor even allow the reluctant hero to witness, much less enjoy, the victory that takes place. He does the former by a literary shift and the latter by a clever incident in the plot. Dickerson notes,
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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

Related Tags: Tolkien, Dickerson, Following Gandalf, The Lord of the Rings, Middle-earth, Christianity, Free Will, Human Responsibility

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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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.

Related Tags: Catholic, Beast, Antichrist, Revelation

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 Il̼vatar; disharmony results. Melkor chooses to go beyond the bounds decreed by Il̼vatar, following his own desires; his sin Рfor so it was Рmars 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 Il̼vatar 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 Il̼vatar has prepared Arda through their music for the coming of Elves Рthe Firstborn Рand Men Рthe Followers. But Il̼vatar 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

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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