This week we read "The Land of Shadow." While Return of the King begins with my favorite chapter (Minas Tirith) it also has my least favorite as well, this one. There isn't a lot going on, and it drags. Unless perhaps it is meant to evoke the feeling of wandering through the desolate land of Mordor.
As Sam and Frodo journey through Mordor on the last stage of their Quest they take a rest under a thicket.
Frodo sighed and was asleep... Sam struggled with his own weariness, and he took Frodo’s hand;
and there he sat silent till deep night fell. Then at last, to keep himself
awake, he crawled
from the hiding-place and looked out... Far above the Ephel Dúath in the
West the night-sky
was still dim and pale. There, peeping among the
cloud-wrack above a dark tor high
up in the mountains, Sam 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 for ever beyond its reach. His song in the Tower
had been defiance rather
than hope; for then he was thinking of
himself. Now, for a moment, his own fate, and even his
master’s,
ceased to trouble him. He crawled back into the brambles and laid
himself by Frodo’s
side, and putting away all fear he cast himself
into a deep untroubled sleep.
This moment is comforting. Sam takes solace in the belief Sauron will never be able to conquer the stars. Beauty is eternal and can never be fully kept at bay. Even if all of Middle Earth would be conquered, sunsets will endure. Caves will glitter and the Sea will wash the shores. Perhaps there will be music in the industrial rhythm of Mordor's iron-making, or architecture to appreciate in Uruk towers.
It is comforting, but misleading. There won't be any Free Peoples to appreciate these beauties! Whatever good beauty is per se, it is necessarily increased by an audience. Sam's hope doesn't empower him - it literally lulls him to sleep.
Sam's song of defiance in the tower was better than this hopeful comfort. He should think of himself, for in thinking of himself he necessarily will consider others. Hope can be quiet and personal. Defiance must take an active form. His defiance in Cirith Ungol, though born of dispair (literally a lack of hope), leads him to find and rescue Frodo.
While we should consider the consequences of our actions beyond our lifetimes, we should remain troubled by our own fate and by that of those around us. Hoping the world will be OK does not make it so - only defiance, or some other motivation for action, can do that. Hope is not a motivator - it is a comfort.
All of us can think of something in the world which bothers us. We should not just hope things improve; We must be defiant. Sleep does not get the job done!
Maybe this appears in this chapter precisely to demonstrate when we are most vulnerable to hope. Mordor is dull, it is dark, it is dangerous. It drags. It is an overbearing experience. Sam falls into 'untroubled sleep' while under a thicket of thorns. This is not a wise decision, noble though it may appear!
Fortunately, Frodo and Sam take a more active role after this scene, and their defiance pushes them to act far beyond what they believe their limit is. The countless times, throughout our whole text, characters act rather than hope gives us an indication of what the text thinks we usually ought to do. Perhaps if we are stressed to the point of being overwhelmed, our senses dulled by repeated injustice, clinging to hope and catching some rest is wise. But it is a tactic to be used sparingly, not a strategy to guide our pursuit of an ethical life.
To right the wrongs of the world, you must defy them.
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