Refracted
Light and Joyful Turns: The Christian Artist as Sub-Creator
By:
Hayden MacKinnon
J.R.R.
Tolkien lived and wrote in an age of unprecedented violence and
horror. The outbreak of the first and second World Wars, the
inception of genocide, concentration camps, and mechanized warfare
brought the depravity of our human condition to the surface. Through
his experiences as a Christian, a soldier, and an author, Tolkien
chose to address the spirit of his age through story—specifically,
the fantasy genre. But how could the so-called “escapist” method
of fantasy ever hope to show something valuable or encouraging in so
dark an era? Could stories about elves, dragons, and dwarves say
anything worth listening to in the age of modernity?
Well, as Tom Shippey
states, fantasy was seen by many authors as a “deeply serious
response to… the major issues of [the] century: the origin and
nature of evil…human existence…cultural relativity…and the
corruptions and continuities of language.”1
Tolkien was after something much more serious than entertainment in
his writing. He did not use fantasy as a way to get away from
reality, but as a means to commentate, engage with, and plunge both
himself and his reader into it.
Tolkien’s writing
is no escape; rather, it is a platform for a deeper engagement with
and a more creative understanding of the Christian life.
A lot of literature
from Tolkien’s era was doing the same thing he was—using the
fantasy genre to talk about what was on everyone’s mind at the
time. Think of Animal
Farm,
The
Lord of the Flies,
or Slaughterhouse
Five.
Each of these stories takes some issue or theme, throws it into a
different, or slightly different, world, and says “I
want you to think about this, but not in your own world, not in your
own time.”
And what if Orwell, Golding, or Vonnegut just wrote factual essays
on Totalitarianism and the fragmented morality of the 20th
Century, instead of giving us the imaginative landscapes of their
novels? If it meant abandoning fantasy, I don’t think they would
even try it; they believed too strongly in fantasy over realism as a
way to communicate the reality in which they lived. Besides, it
would be a lot less enjoyable to read.
Tolkien talked about
the whole idea of expressing real world ideas—reality—through
fantasy and called it “recovery.” He thought that by bringing
you into a different world, you would have the opportunity to see
things in a fresh way; by placing your imagination in a new
environment you could see old objects, concepts, or themes in a new
way. Take this quote from The
Return of the King
where Sam and Frodo are making their way through the dreadful land of
Mordor, where each step they take drives them closer to an absolute
abandonment of all hope. Tolkien writes that as Sam looked upwards,
[He] saw a white
star twinkle for a while. The beauty of it smote his heart, as he
looked up out of the forsaken land, and hope returned to him. For
like a shaft, clear and cold, the thought pierced him that in the end
the Shadow was only a small and passing thing: there was light and
high beauty forever beyond its reach.2
The
Hobbits thrown against the immense darkness of Mordor is full of
poignant Christian imagery presented in a creative, thoughtful way.
It also serves as a powerful representation of the darkness which
swept through the mid-twentieth century. And all the while, Tolkien
is engaging not only our intellect as we comprehend an encouraging
truth, but also pulls our imagination, emotions, and spiritual
longing for unshakable hope along with it.
Another reason that
Tolkien saw using the fantasy genre as important was his whole idea
of the Christian artist as “sub-creator.” As a Christian, he
acknowledged God as the only Creator, in that only He is capable of
making something from nothing. However, from God’s creative
abilities, we, who are made in his image, are able to use the
materials he has given us—including our imaginations—to
participate in His creative work as “sub-creators.” Tolkien said
that by doing this, we become “refracted light, through whom is
splintered a single White…in living shapes that move from mind to
mind.” 3
Therefore, whatever our medium may be, we are able to bring glory to
God and light to the world around us through our creative abilities.
This whole idea of
working with God’s creation to appeal to the imagination brings us
to another important idea of Tolkien’s: the Eucatastrophe,
or, the joyful and happy ending.
Throughout The
Lord of the Rings,
grandiose characters such as Aragorn, Elrond, and Théoden are faced
with exceedingly insurmountable odds and limitless evil against which
they have little hope of victory. And when all seems lost and at its
worst, Tolkien places the most unlikely of endings: two insignificant
Hobbits save the entire realm of Middle-Earth. Eucatastrophe
has taken place.
And how does Tolkien
make sense of such an incredible
ending? Once again, he points us to the gospel. He states that
because the resurrection of Christ is the happiest of all endings,
the Eucatastrophe
to
which every Christian finds unspeakable hope, the sub-creator is able
to use his own happy ending to reflect some of the joyous light of
Christ’s rising from the dead.
If
we take Tolkien’s example of Christian artistry, we open for
ourselves a huge realm of possibilities. In our own work, we are
able to comment on the spirit of our own times, addressing and
incorporating the role of God today. For even though The
Lord of the Rings
has no explicit allegorical connections Biblical characters, and is
not explicitly Christian in subject, Tolkien does
consistently blend his narratives with elements of physical and
spiritual reality, weaving together the important themes and ideas
that we as Christians must ask ourselves. In this way, Tolkien
proves to be an excellent and enjoyable tool for devotion as well as
our education as sub-creators.
1
Shippey, Tom. Tolkien: Author of the Century. Boston:
Houghton Mifflin Company. 2002. Ix.
2
Tolkien, J.R.R. The Return of the King. New York: Ballantine
Books. 1965.
3
Tolkien, J.R.R. The Monsters and the Critics. London: Harper
Collins Publishers. 2006. 144.
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