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The Theological Landscape of Middle Earth
Fantasy may be a nice entertainment. But not only: fantasy can convey the deepest questions of human heart, including religious and theological ones, and responses expressed in the way which would not be possible in any other way, namely, through mythological archetypes and symbols. This book explores those contained in J.R.R. Tolkien's fantasy, especially in "The Lord of the Rings."
160 pages, Paperback
Published July 3, 2019
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Displaying 1 - 3 of 3 reviews
January 13, 2025
Solid, not ground breaking. Definitely a master’s thesis in terms of its treatment of the topic and reliance on others to explain the points. It’s a worthwhile and substantial introduction to the ideas though, and the sources are great. I will be diving into it all a lot more.
February 20, 2025
It's been years since I've wanted to read this book, and when I finally got it as a Christmas present, I almost cried – it was a dream I'd even forgotten having that came true, unannounced.
I guess I was expecting something different, more of an elaborate analysis of Christian symbolism in The Lord of the Rings. What I read instead, as I understand it with my two brain cells, is an argument, using LotR as proof and example, that fantasy and fairy stories can be a gateway to knowing God, recognising His presence in the world, and even making us better people by helping us see the beauty of the world, and through it, truth and goodness. That is an awesome thought. And strange. Why do we need to imagine the world differently to see it as it really is?
Some other impressions and thoughts that occurred to me during reading:
> It began as an academic, theological work, and I, of course, didn't understand much of it, how beauty relates to God, fantasy, and theology. The term 'beauty' isn't directly used about LotR anywhere in the book, as far as I can remember, nor is it used by Tolkien himself to describe this work. Except, of course, within the world of LotR, when describing elves, for instance, or the Valar, or the music of Ainur and suchlike. In that narrow sense, you can understand it to mean that all things beautiful in LotR represent truth and goodness (= God), while all ugly things represent evil. Yet initially I understand the claim to be that LotR is a Christian, God-inspired work because it is, essentially, great. Awesome. Epic. A.k.a. beautiful. Which would also imply that if a work of art isn't beautiful, then it's neither good nor awe-inspiring. I find this conclusion deeply troubling. But again, this is my very limited understanding of what beauty has to do with theology of fantasy.
> The Theological Landscape of Middle Earth contains an extreme amount of references to Stratford Caldecott, and I was very interested by his suggestion (as cited in the book) that there is a connection between Sam and Gollum, the latter representing Sam's "shadowself" (the Jungian archetype comes into mind), which becomes evident in the way Sam abuses and mistrusts Gollum. I've always thought there was a bond between Frodo and Gollum, that Frodo recognised himself in Gollum, and that's why he decided to show him mercy.
> Lembas bread = the Eucharist is a cool idea.
> That death is Iluvatar's gift to mankind, this, of course, I remember from The Silmarillion, but It has never occurred to me that, actually, if you look at most of the founding myths in different cultures, death is never regarded as a gift, but instead as a curse or a punishment for some transgression.
> Ever since I've read the aforementioned work, my view of the elves has completely changed. I've stopped regarding them as angel equivalents because they were just as cruel and fallible as humans in their rebellion. It kind of makes sense to think of them as humans after the Fall.
> For that same reason, it's hard for myself to accept the argument that Lady Galadriel represents some aspects of Virgin Mary – I was really pissed off at her for a while after reading The Silmarillion.
> Tolkien's dislike of "rationalism and materialism" is interesting, given that hobbits are quite materialistic and narrow-minded creatures. All they think about is good food, good drink, and comfort, and they dislike other hobbits who don't conform to the established norms. I don't see how this makes them more resistant to the powers of evil than other races. Lack of ambition isn't a thing that automatically makes you good. But then, again, they really appreciate things that grow, and tend their gardens. GARDENS.
> I tend to think of hobbits as Tolkien's self-inserts. Writing oneself in as the main character and saving the world – wouldn't that indicate conceit? In this case, no. Frodo doesn't save the world. In the end, he fails. According to Caldecott (as cited in this book), it's Providence (= God) that saves the world. "It was pity that stayed Bilbo's hand." And Gollum slips off a cliff. It's such a fantastic, epic, incredible end of a quest, that I can't wrap my head around it. It's just mind-blowing, when you think of it. Can't imagine anyone, ever, doing something like that. It's absolutely incredible.
> And this ties in with another brilliant suggestion, expressed by Caldecott and Morrow (great citations from both in the book), but maybe it's just the Christian theology, namely that whatever bad happens, it's just part of God's ultimately good plan:
Using evil to do good is a real power move, imao. Reminds me of a quote by Robert Penn Warren, which is used as an epigraph to Roadside Picnic: "You have to make the good out of the bad because that is all you have got to make it out of."
However, apparently, using the Ring against Sauron wouldn't have worked because its power would've corrupted its bearer. So it can't be directly compared to "using the enemy's weapon against him."
> Tolkien approved of fantasy as a means of knowing God better, but not science fiction – I understand why, but I don't think I agree. The guy was a bit too much of a technofatalist (learned a new word in December, lol).
> Turns out LotR is about death, and not power(!) That was new to me. And now I'm beginning to believe that all the great books must essentially be about death. And life.
> Finally: I love the idea that LotR is written in such a way as to invite the reader to participate in the quest to destroy the Ring by using Sam as a "bridge". I mean, that's typical of all good literature, right, that it's immersive, the reader identifies herself with the main character(s) etc., etc. But here, I think the author(s) (for the author cites Caldecott also here) might be meaning something else. And if they don't, then, in any case, I must say, this idea shook me. Imagine travelling together with the gang to Mordor, not by means of some stupid fitness app that Instagram occasionally throws into my feed, but actually travelling together. It has never occurred to me that the reader could not only be considered co-creator but as a participant, a main character (except that time when I read Italo Calvino and certain metafictional works, but they're a different opera).
In short, it was a great reading experience.
I guess I was expecting something different, more of an elaborate analysis of Christian symbolism in The Lord of the Rings. What I read instead, as I understand it with my two brain cells, is an argument, using LotR as proof and example, that fantasy and fairy stories can be a gateway to knowing God, recognising His presence in the world, and even making us better people by helping us see the beauty of the world, and through it, truth and goodness. That is an awesome thought. And strange. Why do we need to imagine the world differently to see it as it really is?
Some other impressions and thoughts that occurred to me during reading:
> It began as an academic, theological work, and I, of course, didn't understand much of it, how beauty relates to God, fantasy, and theology. The term 'beauty' isn't directly used about LotR anywhere in the book, as far as I can remember, nor is it used by Tolkien himself to describe this work. Except, of course, within the world of LotR, when describing elves, for instance, or the Valar, or the music of Ainur and suchlike. In that narrow sense, you can understand it to mean that all things beautiful in LotR represent truth and goodness (= God), while all ugly things represent evil. Yet initially I understand the claim to be that LotR is a Christian, God-inspired work because it is, essentially, great. Awesome. Epic. A.k.a. beautiful. Which would also imply that if a work of art isn't beautiful, then it's neither good nor awe-inspiring. I find this conclusion deeply troubling. But again, this is my very limited understanding of what beauty has to do with theology of fantasy.
> The Theological Landscape of Middle Earth contains an extreme amount of references to Stratford Caldecott, and I was very interested by his suggestion (as cited in the book) that there is a connection between Sam and Gollum, the latter representing Sam's "shadowself" (the Jungian archetype comes into mind), which becomes evident in the way Sam abuses and mistrusts Gollum. I've always thought there was a bond between Frodo and Gollum, that Frodo recognised himself in Gollum, and that's why he decided to show him mercy.
> Lembas bread = the Eucharist is a cool idea.
> That death is Iluvatar's gift to mankind, this, of course, I remember from The Silmarillion, but It has never occurred to me that, actually, if you look at most of the founding myths in different cultures, death is never regarded as a gift, but instead as a curse or a punishment for some transgression.
> Ever since I've read the aforementioned work, my view of the elves has completely changed. I've stopped regarding them as angel equivalents because they were just as cruel and fallible as humans in their rebellion. It kind of makes sense to think of them as humans after the Fall.
> For that same reason, it's hard for myself to accept the argument that Lady Galadriel represents some aspects of Virgin Mary – I was really pissed off at her for a while after reading The Silmarillion.
> Tolkien's dislike of "rationalism and materialism" is interesting, given that hobbits are quite materialistic and narrow-minded creatures. All they think about is good food, good drink, and comfort, and they dislike other hobbits who don't conform to the established norms. I don't see how this makes them more resistant to the powers of evil than other races. Lack of ambition isn't a thing that automatically makes you good. But then, again, they really appreciate things that grow, and tend their gardens. GARDENS.
> I tend to think of hobbits as Tolkien's self-inserts. Writing oneself in as the main character and saving the world – wouldn't that indicate conceit? In this case, no. Frodo doesn't save the world. In the end, he fails. According to Caldecott (as cited in this book), it's Providence (= God) that saves the world. "It was pity that stayed Bilbo's hand." And Gollum slips off a cliff. It's such a fantastic, epic, incredible end of a quest, that I can't wrap my head around it. It's just mind-blowing, when you think of it. Can't imagine anyone, ever, doing something like that. It's absolutely incredible.
> And this ties in with another brilliant suggestion, expressed by Caldecott and Morrow (great citations from both in the book), but maybe it's just the Christian theology, namely that whatever bad happens, it's just part of God's ultimately good plan:
The saviour of Middle Earth turns out to be the One who works through the love and freedom of his creatures, and who forgives us our trespasses "as we forgive those who trespass against us" (se Letters, no. 181), using EVEN OUR MISTAKES AND THE DESIGNS OF THE ENEMY TO BRING ABOUT GOOD [my emphasis] (Caldecott, cited in 66–67)
Using evil to do good is a real power move, imao. Reminds me of a quote by Robert Penn Warren, which is used as an epigraph to Roadside Picnic: "You have to make the good out of the bad because that is all you have got to make it out of."
However, apparently, using the Ring against Sauron wouldn't have worked because its power would've corrupted its bearer. So it can't be directly compared to "using the enemy's weapon against him."
> Tolkien approved of fantasy as a means of knowing God better, but not science fiction – I understand why, but I don't think I agree. The guy was a bit too much of a technofatalist (learned a new word in December, lol).
> Turns out LotR is about death, and not power(!) That was new to me. And now I'm beginning to believe that all the great books must essentially be about death. And life.
> Finally: I love the idea that LotR is written in such a way as to invite the reader to participate in the quest to destroy the Ring by using Sam as a "bridge". I mean, that's typical of all good literature, right, that it's immersive, the reader identifies herself with the main character(s) etc., etc. But here, I think the author(s) (for the author cites Caldecott also here) might be meaning something else. And if they don't, then, in any case, I must say, this idea shook me. Imagine travelling together with the gang to Mordor, not by means of some stupid fitness app that Instagram occasionally throws into my feed, but actually travelling together. It has never occurred to me that the reader could not only be considered co-creator but as a participant, a main character (except that time when I read Italo Calvino and certain metafictional works, but they're a different opera).
In short, it was a great reading experience.
August 17, 2022
There is no doubt we all could take great advantage from the proper development of a Theology of Fantasy, one such as founding it is the declared intent of CSJ Fr. Francis of the Child Jesus Nekrosius’s book “The Theological Landscape of Middle-earth”. Unfortunately, the volume falls way too short from achieving such a task, and even as a study of Tolkien’s works it is largely rhapsodic, derivative, and inconclusive.
The first chapter is devoted to the Theology of Beauty, but it barely mentions Hans Urs von Balthasar’s ponderous work on the same theme, “The Glory of the Lord”, and completely ignores Lisa Coutras’s excellent contribution to the connection between Tolkien and von Balthasar, in the form of her 2016 book “Tolkien’s Theology of Beauty”.
Chapter Two treats the relations between Mythopoiesis and Fantasy under a Christian lens, and it has nothing to add on the subject to what is already widely known, apart from a quote by Louis Buoyer on the eschatological Mythopoiesis which the author found in Michel Devaux’s “Tolkien. Les Racines du Légendaire” and for which no context is provided, as though the original source was never consulted. Besides that, Fr. Nekrosius largely depends on Caldecott, Birzer, and Bernthal, as in every other part of the book.
In the third chapter, concerning “The Lord of the Rings”, it is interesting to find the same observations that I made elsewhere, concerning the necessary co-implication of temptation and Eden, but no adequate space is given to such a finding, instead to repeat the usual considerations of Waybread as the Eucharist, crossing rivers as Baptism, etc.
In the fourth and final chapter one finds the insight that Tolkien’s notion of Escape is reminiscent of Plato’s cave, another point I made myself, and yet no exploration of the connection is offered, nor is it linked to the more explicit Platonism of the other two Inklings C.S. Lewis and Charles Williams.
After all, Fr. Nekrosius’s book could work as a brief, easy introduction to the theme of Christianity in “The Lord of the Rings”, referencing more extensive classical explorations of the subject, but it has nothing new to offer in terms of original research and only barely sketches the proposition of a Theology of Fantasy which is still yet-to-be-developed.
The first chapter is devoted to the Theology of Beauty, but it barely mentions Hans Urs von Balthasar’s ponderous work on the same theme, “The Glory of the Lord”, and completely ignores Lisa Coutras’s excellent contribution to the connection between Tolkien and von Balthasar, in the form of her 2016 book “Tolkien’s Theology of Beauty”.
Chapter Two treats the relations between Mythopoiesis and Fantasy under a Christian lens, and it has nothing to add on the subject to what is already widely known, apart from a quote by Louis Buoyer on the eschatological Mythopoiesis which the author found in Michel Devaux’s “Tolkien. Les Racines du Légendaire” and for which no context is provided, as though the original source was never consulted. Besides that, Fr. Nekrosius largely depends on Caldecott, Birzer, and Bernthal, as in every other part of the book.
In the third chapter, concerning “The Lord of the Rings”, it is interesting to find the same observations that I made elsewhere, concerning the necessary co-implication of temptation and Eden, but no adequate space is given to such a finding, instead to repeat the usual considerations of Waybread as the Eucharist, crossing rivers as Baptism, etc.
In the fourth and final chapter one finds the insight that Tolkien’s notion of Escape is reminiscent of Plato’s cave, another point I made myself, and yet no exploration of the connection is offered, nor is it linked to the more explicit Platonism of the other two Inklings C.S. Lewis and Charles Williams.
After all, Fr. Nekrosius’s book could work as a brief, easy introduction to the theme of Christianity in “The Lord of the Rings”, referencing more extensive classical explorations of the subject, but it has nothing new to offer in terms of original research and only barely sketches the proposition of a Theology of Fantasy which is still yet-to-be-developed.
Displaying 1 - 3 of 3 reviews