Tuesday, November 3, 2009
Asa keeps his fake blindness to himself until he realizes that no one cares about the sad blind preacher. What does that say about people? Does it say that we care about people and are interested in what they have to say until we decide that they can’t do anything for us? Asa had some sort of magical power over Haze until Haze found out that he was not blind. After that, Asa gave up on his preaching and turned to a life of begging on the street sans Sabbath. By the way, why does he give her up so easily? I have a sneaking suspicion that she’s not really his daughter, but that’s another story.
Sabbath’s “secret” that she is a “bastard” has a pretty major impact on Haze. He wanted to believe that Asa was a good preacher, but that attitude changed when he found out that Asa could not live up to his expectations of perfection. I don’t think that Sabbath tells her secret to too many people, but she probably told Haze to impress him. It didn’t really work because he was still pretty disgusted by her need to be a sex-crazed girl, and I can’t really say as I blame him. But, back to the secret thing, her secret is not one that remains hidden.
Enoch has a few secrets that are pretty ridiculous. He “hides” from the woman who bathes and he “hides” the shrunken man, but he doesn’t care if he gets caught. The woman knew that he was spying on her, and I think that she liked it because she wanted to be looked at. Otherwise, she wouldn’t have gone to the pool every day. I want to know why he was so impressed by the shrunken man. Maybe it was because it looked like something from another world. Foreign things impress most people, but Haze proves that everything can be destroyed. Maybe that is the purpose of the story. No matter how sturdy something seems (faith, shrunken men, relationships, and even people) everything can go away with the decision of one person. Nothing, not even a secret, can remain forever.
Friday, October 30, 2009
Music for Perelandra
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PBkTseuJd2k
Perelandra/Paradise Lost: Satan
However, I think it is important to notice one major factor about the two Satan’s; Milton’s Satan has just fallen and Lewis’ Satan is several thousand years from his fall. Think about, if Adam was the sum of all human wisdom and knowledge and we are his descendants affected by his fall, how much more so would there be a difference between Satan as he was initially after his fall and thousands of years later? Because really, humanity has only regressed since Adam and Eve; we have not progressed. If Lewis had been portraying Satan not long after he had fallen from Heaven he might would have seemed more like Milton’s Satan. However, because sin causes deterioration or regression, it only makes sense that Lewis’ Satan acts so irrationally, animalistic. So, to argue that Lewis’ Satan or Milton’s Satan is more realistic really has to be considered within the context of Satan’s fall from heaven.
Saturday, October 24, 2009
Ooops...Did we do that?
This website lists all of the mistakes that were made by the production crew as the were filming The Lord of the Rings. There is some pretty funny goofs listed there if you are interested in going back to see them all.
Enjoy.
Christ Permiates Tolkien's Middle Earth
CS Lewis gives you a symbol (Aslan), makes him a lion, gives a chuckle, and says, "Want to guess who this is supposed to be, haha, snort. Tolkien thinks more of you and as Lewis comes down to your level to talk to you, Tolkien comes down but then lifts you up his level. Tolkien respects your intelligence, your grasp of subtelty, and basically your ability to comprehend great eternal truth without being spoon fed like a baby.
In the Chronicles of Narnia CS Lewis' Christ figure is obvious; it is Aslan the Lion who is the Son of the Emperor beyond the Sea (Lion of the tribe of Judah; Son of God). In The Lord of the Rings, Christ is not isolated to one individual, I believe, and he is not supposed to be. Tolkien infuses the good in Middle Earth with the distant but yet distinctly real light our Lord. Christ is not Aragorn, Gandalf, Frodo, or any of the others...yet I believe he can be distinctly discovered in all of the characters.
In Aragorn the obvious symbolism of Christ as King is apparent and yet Aragorn cannot be Christ, he is flawed and marred just like all men in Middle Earth. Yet, it is clear that Christ's power of kingship rests on him. He provides healing, he walks through the very gates of death, and he commands allegiance by an example more powerful than any words. Truly, the Messiah as King can be seen in the life of Aragorn. Gandalf glimpses Christ as Prophet, and plays a prophetic intermediary role throughout the epic while Aragorn is assuming his identity and while Frodo is seeking to destroy the Ring. Gandalf is not perfect either having a certain love for the halflings' weed and not always being the most patient individual in the world. Yet, Gandalf wields power on behalf of the good like the great prophets of the Old Testament and is used to encourage the people the stand firm. Frodo to me displays Christ as Priest, Frodo must sacrifice himself and all that he has to destroy the Ring, the symbol of universal sin and the power the evil one has over all men (Sauron is not Satan though, but only a minion which is interesting to me). Frodo will covet the Ring and he will believe false counsel, but in the end his clear sacrfice in giving up the Ring and ending the power of Sauron cannot be ignored.
The minor characters also take on various aspects of Christ and his connection to his world. The Elves (who are presented as part of the good) show God's affinity for his natural creation. The dwarves show God's affinity for resourcefulness and creativity. The halflings show God's love for the relationship and simplicity. Christ and the Gospel can be seen throughout the Lord of the Rings (though imperfectly), in my view, because Tolkien intended to blanket it with so much you did not notice he was doing it.
That makes him greater, in my view, than CS Lewis and a whole lot less bizzare the Charles Williams.
Friday, October 23, 2009
Tolkien: the Speechless Philologist
Some things must be said in myth because they now can be said no other way. We've lost our capacity to hear. We're separated by a gap, living in the shadows...
Rarely have I before viewed mythology as depiction of reality. I have always been drawn to it, believing that it may depict portions of truth through fantasy, but have not considered it to be necessary. I believed the myths were in addition to the truth, not supportive of it. Now I realize that I live in a blind, deaf world where we are stumbling around in the shadows, separated from the light. There are no absolutes, no morals; we have faith in nothing and are incapable of love. J.R.R. Tolkien crafted Middle Earth as a world that may draw us back. After the creatures of the shadows have wounded us, we may still be healed if we are found by the hand of the Healer-King...
Tolkien was not only an incredible scholar of languages, but a creator of them. As a philologist, he understood not only the structure, but the power of words. Some of the most beautiful passages I've ever read in literature are words shaped by Tolkien; but some of potent passages found in The Lord of the Rings (especially in The Return of the King) are the moments when Tolkien's characters say nothing. When Dr. Mitchell asked us Thursday what our favorite part of The Return of the King would be, immediately my mind went to one such instance.
In Chapter 1 of Book 6, Sam has determinde to rescue the unconcsious Frodo from the orcs in Cirith Ungol. The brave hobbit is ready to fight unto death against the orcs, but before he reaches the tower, he is stopped by an enemy. It is not orcs, but a dark will that keep Sam from Frodo.
Just as he was about to pass under its great arch, he felt a shock: as if he had run into some web like Shelob's, only invisible. He could see no obstacle, but something too strong for his will to overcome barred the way. He looked about, and then withing the shadow of the gate he saw the Two Watchers....immovable, and yet they were aware: some drreadful spirit of evil vigilance abode in them.
The three-bodied, vulture-faced statues that are enveloped in the shadows will not allow Sam to pass. He tries again, but their will forces him back. Then Sam remembers...
...he drew slowly out the phial of Galadriel and held it up. Its white light quickened swiftly, and the shadows under the dark arch fled. The monstrous Watchers sat there cold and still, revealed in all their hideous shape. For a moment Sam caught a glitter in the black stones of their eyes, the very malice of which made him quail; but slowly he felt their will waver and crumble into fear.
This moment in the quest is for me one of intense conflict. Tolkien sets the stage well; Sam now carries the weight of the enire world around his neck and on his will to push on through the impossible. He has decided that "he was not large enough to to bear such a burden." His decision to follow Frodo also keeps him from bending to the Ring, for "it was the love of his master that helped most to hold him firm." Sam has decided to surrender, to love, to be faithful, to dwell in the light even in the world of shadows...even though it could be his death. He is denied entrance to the one way he can fulfill his purpose; and he refuses to turn back. I can imagine a tiny hobbit, underneath a sky full of darkness in a land of shadow and ashes, reaching inside his clothing and pulling out the phial of light. Throughout all of Mordor, only here in this tiny hand is one glimmer of true beauty. It is not light from a consuming fire or an destructive volcano, but from a world beyond the earth. The dark creatures of Sauron are forced to remember the power greater than their master, who has done all he can to forget. In moments like this, Tolkien reconciles the separation between the hell of Mordor and the heaven of the beauty above it, and he does not bring this moment to pass by having Sam speak an incantation or proclaim words of courage; he simply holds the light high. And the will of the Watchers crumbles.
This is what Tolkien does with mythology. He does not write the truth in the way that it is expected to be declared. He holds the light of truth up high with his fantasy; when those who have been dwelling in the shadows realize it, the must either run deeper into the darkness or draw near to the light. Tolkien's trilogy penetrates the shadows of the 20th century. The philologist in many instances throughout the quest leaves his characters speechless, as well as those who read their story. When it came to the truth, Tolkien may not have given speeches or written apologies for it. Instead, he sat down and wrote a myth that built a bridge over the gap. Tolkien's light is bright enough for even our blinded eyes to see; the music of Middle Earth has been ringing for decades now and will continue to play in the ears of those that can hear nothing else. He brings the deaf and blind to the house of healing, where Truth is King.