A post which will probably be of interest only to Nol
So, as I may have mentioned once to Nol, I'm trying to write (in my copious amounts of free time) a critical essay entitled "Creating the Moral Mythos: An examination of attempts at communicating a morality through fantasy", being a comparison of the efforts of JRR Tolkien, CS Lewis, JK Rowling, and Phillip Pullman to establish a moral framework in a set of fantasy novels. (Why am I doing this? Because I want to. And also because what is the good of a liberal arts education if you spend all your time writing about carbon-carbon bond lengths and never get to use the term "agency". Or at least not without your boss editing it out.)
This post is not about that. This post is instead a reiteration of my love for Tolkien's works, because to write this essay I am having to reread all the Narnia books, and Eru Iluvatar, are they shallow. Seriously. I do not get it. Tolkien and Lewis were coming out of the same religious background, but while Tolkien's mythos is one of the most subtle and complicated theological treatises ever, the Narnia books just read as a well-written Sunday School exercise written by a particularly talented twelve year old. Or possibly religious fanfic.
Urgh.
In fact, The Lord of the Rings is surprisingly devoid of all religion -- for all the history and depth of the various cultures we encounter, there is not one mention of who, or what, anyone worships. The closest we get is Galadriel's song as the Fellowship leaves Lorien, expressing her desire for Valinor and her hope to one day return -- and that is not even in English. Perhaps this is what Pullman objects to, when he claims that Tolkien does not address the "big questions". Of course, The Silmarillion deals with such questions in depth, although given The Silmarillion's complexity Pullman can perhaps be forgiven for not putting forth the effort required to realize this. Yet even The Silmarillion, which details the creation of the universe and the purpose of humanity*, is virtually silent on the subject of worship: far more is said about the Valar, to whom men owe allegiance but not worship, than Eru, who is God. For a God made in the image of the Christian God, Eru is surprisingly remote; although not by any means a "clockwork god" (i.e. one who sets up the universe and then lets it run on its own), Eru generally lets things happen as they happen, and only interferes in extremely rare moments of momentous import. This occurs three times: once to give life to the Dwarves and Ents, once to give Luthien the gift of mortality, and once to break and remake the world when the Numenorians violate the sanctity of Aman. In fact, Eru's extreme reluctance to interfere with the state of the world is what gives each of those three events their power, both within the mythos and as a message to the reader. This is perhaps why Eru-worship on Arda is more of a way of saying "thanks for existence" than a form more reminiscent of earthly Christianity: Eru is not a god who grants prayers; one is better off asking the Valar politely.
Again, this runs counter to what Lewis portrays in the Narnia books. Although, like The Lord of the Rings, the books are mostly silent on how the residents of Narnia (or even Calormen) worship, this is because in Narnia, Aslan is a living, breathing presence, who not only interferes in events but is the prime mover behind them, the architect of every adventure. Each Narnia book, except perhaps The Last Battle, can be read as a variation on a simple formula: Aslan lays forth a task the human protagonists must complete; the characters, through their inevitable human failings, mess it up at some point; Aslan corrects them and brings them back to the path of proper behavior, after which they can complete the task. The dramatic tension comes primarily from the extent to which the characters manage to deviate from the road Aslan has laid in front of them. To a large extent the human characters lack agency; they neither choose their task nor the method of completing it. To the extent that they are allowed to decide their own actions, it only results in them messing things up. Success comes from obeying Aslan in all things. If the reader comes away with the feeling that praying to Aslan is as futile as praying to Eru, it is because Aslan already knows what is best for you, and you should not have the temerity to ask him for anything else.
*That's "to fight against evil", in case you missed it.
And I haven't even gotten to the point where I have to reread His Dark Materials. I'd say "pity me" except I totally brought this on myself.
This post is not about that. This post is instead a reiteration of my love for Tolkien's works, because to write this essay I am having to reread all the Narnia books, and Eru Iluvatar, are they shallow. Seriously. I do not get it. Tolkien and Lewis were coming out of the same religious background, but while Tolkien's mythos is one of the most subtle and complicated theological treatises ever, the Narnia books just read as a well-written Sunday School exercise written by a particularly talented twelve year old. Or possibly religious fanfic.
Urgh.
In fact, The Lord of the Rings is surprisingly devoid of all religion -- for all the history and depth of the various cultures we encounter, there is not one mention of who, or what, anyone worships. The closest we get is Galadriel's song as the Fellowship leaves Lorien, expressing her desire for Valinor and her hope to one day return -- and that is not even in English. Perhaps this is what Pullman objects to, when he claims that Tolkien does not address the "big questions". Of course, The Silmarillion deals with such questions in depth, although given The Silmarillion's complexity Pullman can perhaps be forgiven for not putting forth the effort required to realize this. Yet even The Silmarillion, which details the creation of the universe and the purpose of humanity*, is virtually silent on the subject of worship: far more is said about the Valar, to whom men owe allegiance but not worship, than Eru, who is God. For a God made in the image of the Christian God, Eru is surprisingly remote; although not by any means a "clockwork god" (i.e. one who sets up the universe and then lets it run on its own), Eru generally lets things happen as they happen, and only interferes in extremely rare moments of momentous import. This occurs three times: once to give life to the Dwarves and Ents, once to give Luthien the gift of mortality, and once to break and remake the world when the Numenorians violate the sanctity of Aman. In fact, Eru's extreme reluctance to interfere with the state of the world is what gives each of those three events their power, both within the mythos and as a message to the reader. This is perhaps why Eru-worship on Arda is more of a way of saying "thanks for existence" than a form more reminiscent of earthly Christianity: Eru is not a god who grants prayers; one is better off asking the Valar politely.
Again, this runs counter to what Lewis portrays in the Narnia books. Although, like The Lord of the Rings, the books are mostly silent on how the residents of Narnia (or even Calormen) worship, this is because in Narnia, Aslan is a living, breathing presence, who not only interferes in events but is the prime mover behind them, the architect of every adventure. Each Narnia book, except perhaps The Last Battle, can be read as a variation on a simple formula: Aslan lays forth a task the human protagonists must complete; the characters, through their inevitable human failings, mess it up at some point; Aslan corrects them and brings them back to the path of proper behavior, after which they can complete the task. The dramatic tension comes primarily from the extent to which the characters manage to deviate from the road Aslan has laid in front of them. To a large extent the human characters lack agency; they neither choose their task nor the method of completing it. To the extent that they are allowed to decide their own actions, it only results in them messing things up. Success comes from obeying Aslan in all things. If the reader comes away with the feeling that praying to Aslan is as futile as praying to Eru, it is because Aslan already knows what is best for you, and you should not have the temerity to ask him for anything else.
*That's "to fight against evil", in case you missed it.
And I haven't even gotten to the point where I have to reread His Dark Materials. I'd say "pity me" except I totally brought this on myself.