‘Rings of Power’ and the Meaning Behind ‘The Lord of the Rings’
The late Christopher Tolkien, in the foreword to The Silmarillion, says of his father’s work: “In his later writing mythology and poetry sank down behind his theological and philosophical preoccupations.” Theology bubbled to the surface and became a key theme that can be gleaned from The Silmarillion and all of Tolkien’s corpus. In the actors’ commentary for Peter Jackon’s Fellowship of the Ring adaptation, Ian McKellen also refers to this “semi-religious language of Tolkien.”
J.R.R. Tolkien himself spoke to this dimension of faith in his world of make-believe when he wrote to Fr. Robert Murray: “The Lord of the Rings is of course a fundamentally religious and Catholic work; unconsciously so at first, but consciously in the revision…the religious element is absorbed into the story and the symbolism.” And for the eager exegete, the symbolism oozes forth like an ever-flowing fountain.
On the surface level, some sweeping generalities show a few similarities between Tolkien’s mythos and the Christian story of salvation. Both involve a protagonist (Jesus/Frodo) who accumulates a band of close followers, one of whom (Judas/Boromir) betrays him before the followers scatter in a time of trial. The protagonist seeks to save his people and destroy the power of evil. He takes the evil or sin upon himself, a burden of great weight, and carries it up a mountain to eliminate it. It is a strenuous climb, one which requires someone (Simon the Cyrenian/Sam Gamgee) to help carry the burden up to the summit.
Put that way, the work of fiction seems to echo the older story, the narrative once dubbed “the greatest story ever told.” One can go further and point out the royal and healing qualities of Jesus the Christ, the Anointed One, the Son of David and of the fictitious Aragorn (King Elessar), ruler of Gondor. The portrayal of Lady Galadriel was, admittedly, influenced by the Blessed Virgin Mary. If such parallels intrigue you, I suggest looking into the work of scholar Joseph Pearce or listen to this lecture by Prof. Paul Gondreau. Additionally, if you can find a copy, William Ready’s book Understanding Tolkien and the Lord of the Rings (1969), while getting some plot points wrong as well as some of Tolkien’s motives, does a good job attempting to explain the role of grace in the good professor’s fantasy.
Looking at LOTR through the lens of Christian allegory, however, comes with the danger of attributing to every slight similarity between the two stories a deep and legitimate connection. This won’t always be the case. One reader fancied the idea that the mines of Moria derived their name from the land of Moriah in the Bible, the locale in which Abraham almost sacrificed his son Isaac. Tolkien repudiated the notion and said there was no such connection.
Other fans saw Tolkien’s fictional dark forces as an allegory for atomic power, an affiliation Tolkien flatly denied. To this day, a number of academics consider LOTR an attempt at a national mythology for England, although this assumption is not universally accepted. Christian symbolism remains a predominant and positive lens through which we can seek to interpret Tolkien’s work, an element which the author himself conceded.
Some of Tolkien’s morals slip into the story as do his other personal beliefs. According to Joseph Pearce, Tolkien held that an artist’s personal life did not affect the quality of the work he produced. Pearce rightfully disagrees with Tolkien on this point. Nevertheless, it is interesting to see this aspect of Tolkien’s beliefs played out in the second season of Rings of Power. Consider Círdan the Shipwright’s conversation with Elrond and his argument that works should be weighed for the good or evil that they do and not the good or evil that their maker has done. Elrond hesitates, putting himself at odds with Círdan on this matter until the end of the season.
While it is disappointing to see Elrond cave to the pressure to use the magical rings for their healing qualities, this conversation between two noble elves earlier in the season displays a deliberation on morality the depth of which seldom appears in popular television.
These rings are different in their nature than the One Ring. But it is abundantly clear that this is the case – and that no good can come of that ring. McKellen’s Gandalf says this in The Fellowship of the Ring: that though he would wish to do good, the Ring could only perform evil in his hands.
At the heart of Tolkien’s high fantasy is the struggle between good and evil, coupled with the unavoidable reality that none of us are all-powerful or sufficient in ourselves. So-called “Christ figures” like Frodo, Gandalf, and Aragorn – none of them are perfect. Ultimately, Frodo fails to destroy evil. In a twist of grace, as William Ready would describe it, the forces of evil that, by their nature, are always self-seeking yet self-consuming (in the person of Gollum) bring about the destruction of evil.
We see the same fight of good versus evil in Rings of Power. By Season 2, it’s obvious Sauron is a character driven by vainglory and vengeance, an individual who cares for no thing and no one but himself. Take, for example, the kindly old Diarmid, a leader of the Southland people. He treats Sauron (under the guise of Halbrand) with compassion and gives him a road map for avoiding evil and growing in virtue: Choose the good today and the day after and the day after that. Yet, when Diarmid asks for aid, Sauron takes from him what he deems useful for himself and leaves the old man to die.
The events, characters, and history (of at least those particular characters that appear in The Silmarillion) have been shuffled around a bit in their translation to the screen. In Tolkien’s written legend, Ar-Pharazôn does not take the throne in Númenor until after Sauron’s power had grown and word had spread of it to the kingdom of Men. After a time, Sauron is a willing captive of Ar-Pharazôn, thus gaining entry into Númenor and spreading his poison – in much the same way as Sauron’s TV presence darkens and clouds the intellect of Celebrimbor in Eregion.
In the tale told in The Silmarillion, Sauron encourages the people of Númenor to stop honoring Eru (the Creator) and instead worship Sauron’s old master Melkor, a fallen spirit, the lord of the dark. Thus, false worship creeps into the land. This is a clear instance of what Christopher Tolkien spoke of when he said his dad’s theology became more overt in his stories. This might be a development we see in some future season of the series. For now, the show has at least made the distinction between the mainstream culture and the Faithful. The Faithful worship in temples, a practice we see Ar-Pharazôn’s son stomping out at his father’s command.
In the source material as in the Amazon series, Sauron plays off of people’s fears and desires. This defining trait is portrayed quite well in the show. But, at other times and with other characters, Rings of Powers smacks more of fan fiction than of Tolkien’s own imagination.
In a single episode of Season 2, titled “Eldest,” the writers cram at least three elements no LOTR fan had ever seen on screen: Tom Bombadil, the Barrow-wights, and female ents. Besides being fan service, the episode grabbed this handful of Tolkien characters and threw them into settings and scenarios they never found themselves in when they were but simple features or whispers of the past in the novels.
As far as religion goes, we see very few vestiges of the Christian symbolism inherent to LOTR. Perhaps the most Christian-sounding line from Rings of Powers comes when Celebrimbor, now returned to his senses, tells Galadriel that it is not power that will overcome the darkness but light. I can’t help but think: The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness does not overcome it…That is how Season 2 ends. The forces of good, though wounded, live to fight another day.