Concerning (the Humility of) Hobbits
Reflecting on the gospel according to Matthew, hobbits, and humility
First, welcome new subscribers! A quick introduction for those who have happened across my substack thanks to a generous and completely unexpected shout out by Haley Stewart (to have an actual published writer you admire share my writing with others is a high I will be riding for the foreseeable future).
My name is Elise. I’m a cradle Catholic and a bookworm, as well as an aspiring crafter and homesteader. I attended the University of Notre Dame and studied the Great Books (Go Irish!) as an undergrad. I also met my husband at Notre Dame. I earned my Masters of Arts in Teaching from Notre Dame of Maryland University and taught for several years (mostly English to middle/high school students) before discerning the call to work as a stay at home mom. I have three incredible children (one of the three due in July) and work as on online tutor as well. So that’s a very inadequate summary of me. Onto the actual post.
Note: A stomach bug laid waste to our little household, making writing a wee bit difficult. This reflection is a combined set of posts I’m moving over from my old Wordpress site. It is based on Mt 20:17-28 and Mt 23:1-12. All parenthetical references for The Lord of the Rings are to chapter titles.
Christianity is a faith of paradoxes, and one of the most well-known of these is spelled out in Matthew’s gospel: In humbling ourselves, we are exalted; in making ourselves servants to others, we are made great (Mt 23:12, 20:26). There are few works that better embody the truth of this teaching than J.R.R. Tolkien’s masterpiece The Lord of the Rings, in which humble hobbits end up saving Middle Earth by practicing the virtur of humility.
In the prologue to The Lord of the Rings, we learn that hobbits are “a little people” ranging between “two and four feet of our measure” (Concerning Hobbits). Their diminutive stature is symbolic of their little worth in the eyes of a world which has largely forgotten their existence. They are lovers of good food, good drink, and good company, living lives of pastoral simplicity. They hardly seem to be a race from which great heroes could emerge. After all, elves are much wiser, men are much stronger, and dwarves are much better craftspeople. Yet, Frodo Baggins, a pudgy middle-aged hobbit, and Sam Gamgee, a rustic working-class hobbit, ultimately become the central heroes of the novel.
Frodo’s road to “exaltation” begins when he inherits a magical ring from his uncle Bilbo, which turns out to an evil crafting of the Dark Lord, Sauron. If Sauron (a demonic being) regains this One Ring, his power will be greatly augmented and all of Middle-Earth will fall under his dominion. Frodo is tasked with taking the One Ring to Mount Doom, where it was forged, and destroying it forever. This quest is seemingly impossible because of the physical and spiritual danger in entails. The One Ring has a will of its own, and tempts all who encounter it to use it as an instrument of domination. Such use leads to the ultimate corruption of the wielder and reveals them to Sauron, to whom the One Ring wishes to return.
Knowing the heavy responsibility of carrying the One Ring, Frodo seeks to surrender it to other “exalted” characters who, by the worldly wisdom Christ condemns, would be better suited to the task. First, Frodo offers it to the ‘wizard,’ Gandalf. Gandalf is essentially an embodied angel, sent by God and Gandalf’s fellow “angels” to help the peoples of Middle Earth resist Sauron. Such a “great one” would seem to be the ideal candidate for carrying the Ring, but Gandalf vehemently refuses Frodo’s offer (Mt 20:25). He says, “with that power I should have power too great and terrible” (Shadows of the Past). Gandalf knows that if he “exalts” himself by trying to “lord it over” others with the One Ring, he will eventually succumb to its corrupting power. Frodo later offers the Ring to Galadriel, a powerful elvish queen who already wields her own, lesser, ring of power. Yet she too refuses the offer though, with her, the temptation to self-exaltation is greater. After all, she is a ruler whose “authority over [others]” is “felt” throughout Middle Earth (Mt 20:25). Yet Galadriel, like Gandalf, refuses to give into the temptation to fight power with power and become a lesser version of Sauron.
Both Gandalf and Galadriel recognize that Frodo is ultimately the person best equipped to carry the Ring. Paradoxically, it is precisely because Frodo is so powerless by earthly measures, that he is powerful enough to resist using the One Ring for so long. Such paradoxical power is rooted in Frodo’s humility, demonstrated when he first agrees to flee his home with the One Ring. He says, “I feel myself very small, and very uprooted, and well-desperate. The Enemy is so strong and terrible” (The Shadow of the Past). Frodo’s response is truly Christian. He has no illusions about his own abilities, no false sense of self-sufficiency. He rightly acknowledges himself to be weak, especially in comparison with Sauron. Yet, in his weakness, he is able to receive the assistance of ‘divine intervention’ throughout his journey.
As Elrond, one of the wisest elves of Middle Earth, tells Frodo: “If I understand aright…I think that his task is appointed for you, Frodo; and that if you do not find a way, no one will. This is the hour of the [hobbits] when they arise…to shake the towers and counsels of the Great” (The Council of Elrond). Here, Elrond explicitly states that, in humbly accepting the burden of the One Ring, Frodo is cooperating with providence. In language reminiscent of Mary’s Magnificat, Elrond makes it clear that it is the quiet, ignorant, forgotten hobbits who will bring down the “Great” of the world order.
However Frodo must, like Christ, do more than live out the virtue of humility if he is to defeat evil. He must accept the ultimate humiliation of drinking from the “chalice” of suffering and death (Mt 20:22). Like Christ, Frodo suffers the betrayal of a friend when one of his companions seeks to possess the ring. Like Christ, Frodo is wounded during, and exhausted by, his journey. Like Christ, Frodo is slowly deprived of food, water, and clothing as he nears his goal. Like Christ, Frodo’s greatest suffering is spiritual. Approaching Mount Doom, Frodo feels the Ring’s oppressive power and tormenting temptation grow stronger. Speaking to his only remaining companion, Sam, he says: “I am naked in the dark, Sam, and there is no veil between me and the wheel of fire. I begin to see it even with my waking eyes, and all else fades” (Mount Doom). Frodo’s despairing words, here, echo Christ’s cry on the cross: “My God, my God, why have you abandoned me?” (Mt 27:46). Frodo must drink the bitter chalice of suffering down to its dregs, as Christ did.
Willingly accepting humiliation during his passion and crucifixion, Christ is ultimately exalted. The same can be said for Frodo. At the very end of the novel, Frodo is given an honor hitherto reserved only for elves, the greatest of Middle Earth’s races: a chance to take a ship to the West. In Tolkien’s supplementary works, we learn that this Western land is a sort of earthly paradise, where angelic beings dwell. It is they who, acting on God’s commands, have quietly interceded for, and sustained Frodo and the other characters who resisted Sauron. When Frodo catches sight of the West, he “smelled a sweet fragrance on the air and heard the sound of singing that came over the water…and he beheld white shores and beyond them a far green country” (The Grey Havens). The humble hobbit who drank the chalice of suffering, who set aside his own desires in order to serve and save others, is now granted a place among the greatest beings in all of Middle Earth.
To live out the virtue of humility, then, as Jesus would have us do, is to live like a hobbit. When asked, as we all are, to join in the war against evil that rages throughout this world, we must have Frodo’s wisdom. We too must acknowledge that we are very small and very weak indeed. Like Frodo, we should not underestimate the strength and terror of our enemy. Yet, when frightened by our sense of powerlessness, we cannot give in to despair. Instead, we must allow ourselves to be strengthened by God’s grace, trusting that he will exalt those whom he calls, as happens with Frodo. Finally, if we truly wish to be great in the kingdom of heaven, we must, like Frodo be willing to drink the chalice of suffering before we can be brought to the healing glory of the Resurrection.
While Frodo provides an example of exaltation through humble service, the character of Boromir provides an example of the dangers of self-exaltation. Boromir is introduced during a council held by the Elrond. His “garments were rich, and his cloak was lined with fur…he had a collar of silver in which a single white stone was set” (The Council of Elrond). Such rich clothing is a sign of Boromir’s high social status. Indeed, he is the eldest son of the Steward of Gondor. Gondor is a powerful kingdom of men currently ruled by Stewards rather than Kings, since the royal line has (apparently) died out. Thus, Boromir is a prince in all but name, and finds great satisfaction in the “pride and dignity” of his descent (The Council of Elrond). Boromir is indeed one of the “great ones” who is used to “lord[ing] it over” others (Mt 30:25). His wealth and lineage offer a marked contrast to Frodo. While Frodo is a genteel hobbit, his status and wealth are in no wise equal to Boromir’s. Nor does Frodo ever boast of his background, or seek a position of leadership within his community.
In addition, where Frodo’s wealth has made him soft and unused to danger, Boromir’s status has led him to become a mighty warrior. As Boromir explains, he has long fought against Sauron and his allies: “By our valour the wild folk of the East are restrained and the terror of Morgul kept at bay…and those who shelter behind us give us praise, if ever they hear our name” (The Council of Elrond). Here, Boromir describes how he and his people keep much of Middle-Earth safe from Sauron. Such valour, he believes, deserves praise from others, more so than they currently receive. Though Boromir’s desire for acknowledgement of the dangers he and his men brave is understandable, he displays something of a Pharisaical attitude. Like the Pharisees, he seems to desire the homage of attention and honor from others (Mt 23:5-7). His boasting contrasts with Frodo’s reluctant narration of the dangers he has faced up until this point in the novel. Frodo seeks no praise or honor for enduring the burden of the Ring. He is, at heart, a humble hobbit who feels out of place in this council of great elf lords, powerful wizards, noble men, and mighty dwarves. Boromir, on the other hand, believes he is owed a place of honor at the council.
Thus, while Frodo appears to be (on the surface) the unlikeliest of candidates for heroism, Boromir, the skilled warrior-prince, appears to be the ideal candidate. Like many a traditional hero, Boromir shows a heroic willingness to take on difficult tasks, which is how came to the council in the first place. Boromir describes a strange dream that came “many times” to his younger brother, and only once to Boromir (The Council of Elrond). This dream warned of the finding of the One Ring and urged men to seek council from the wise elves of Rivendell. Boromir’s words, and subsequent events, hint that Boromir’s younger brother was the one “chosen” to embark on the journey to Rivendell. However, Boromir says that “because the way was full of doubt and danger; I took the journey upon myself” (The Council of Elrond). His attitude contrasts sharply with Frodo’s. Frodo reluctantly takes the Ring out of necessity, and because others refuse to carry it. He doubts his strength and abilities. Boromir, on the other hand, eagerly takes on a task meant for another precisely because he takes pride in his own strength and abilities. To be fair to Boromir, he is motivated primarily by a love for his people and a desire to defend them from evil. However, as is the case with so many of us, though his intentions are good, his methodology is flawed, and his pride dangerous.
Indeed, Boromir is very much like James, John, and their mother in Matthew’s gospel. Like the disciples’ mother, Boromir seeks glory and exaltation as a reward for his good deeds. Like James and John, he does not fully comprehend the true cost of such exaltation. When Christ asks James and John if they can “drink the chalice” Christ himself must drink, they brashly assert, “we can” (Mt 20:22). Boromir too believes he is prepared to drink the “chalice,” but he has little idea of what that ultimately entails. Boromir’s desire for exaltation and greatness is highlighted by his initial response to the revelation of the One Ring’s identity and nature. He asks why the “wise” of the Council speak of hiding or destroying the Ring. Instead, he says “let the Ring be your weapon, if it has such power as you say. Take it and go forth to victory” (The Council of Elrond). Boromir, a warrior by nature, can see no way to defeat evil but by meeting strength with strength. He thinks as the “Gentiles” do in is Matthew’s gospel (Mt 20:25). He wants to become another “great one” in order to defeat the current great one. He, like Gandalf and Galadriel, has such power and strength as to be tempted to self-exaltation through the Ring.
Unfortunately, unlike Gandalf and Galadriel, he eventually tries to take the Ring from Frodo. He says, “[the Ring] is not yours save by unhappy chance. It might have been mine. It should have been mine. Give it to me!” (The Breaking of the Fellowship). The wisest characters in the novel recognize that divine providence has specially chosen the humble hobbit to carry the Ring because of Frodo’s ability to resist its temptation. Boromir, on the other hand, believes the diminutive and weak hobbit only carries the Ring by chance. He, Boromir, warrior and leader among men, should be the one to carry the Ring. Boromir no longer wishes to be a “servant” to Frodo as a companion on what is ultimately Frodo’s quest (Mt 23:11). He wishes to be “first” and sees grasping the One Ring as the only way to do so (Mt 20:27). It is a horrifying and tragic fall of what is, at heart, a noble and courageous character.
Thankfully, Tolkien does not end Boromir’s story on such a despondent note. Boromir, shortly after attacking Frodo, recognizes the evil of his actions. He calls his deed “madness” and begs Frodo to return (The Breaking of the Fellowship). Ultimately, Boromir redeems himself by laying down his life to try and protect two other “lowly” hobbits from capture by the Enemy. Before dying, he confesses his attempted seizing of the ring to the leader of the group, Aragorn. While he says, “I have failed,” Aragorn offers a more hopeful view: “You have conquered! Few have gained such a victory. Be at peace” (The Departure of Boromir). Boromir ends his life by “giv[ing] his life as ransom” for others and by having the humility to admit his sins (Mt 20:28). He indeed drinks a bitter “chalice,” but is finally redeemed by doing so.
In Boromir, then, we receive a cautionary tale about the dangers of pride and the healing effects of humility and self-sacrifice. From Boromir, we learn that when the opportunity to complete a great and good work is presented to us, we must carefully discern if God is calling us to take on such a task. We must avoid the arrogant assumption that, just because we can do something, we should do it. When God does reveal to us our specific mission, we must not, as Boromir does, seek praise or honor for our good works. Rather, we must be content to work for the kingdom of God in obscurity and darkness, trusting that God will exalt us when and how he sees fit. When we pridefully rebel against our roles as servants and slaves of God and neighbor, we must be willing to repent, as Boromir does. Then, like Boromir, we must live out our call to lay down our lives for others with renewed fervor, no matter the sacrifice such service entails.
Share your thoughts! How is God calling you to be humble in your life? When have there been times that God has ‘exalted’ you?