Walking in the dark

This week is our first double portion, and so we are reading two chapters this week: "Three's Company" and "Shortcut to Mushrooms."  They both follow Sam and Frodo as they leave Hobbiton and head toward Buckland (two neighborhoods in the Shire).  They are joined by Peregrin Took (Pippin), who is Frodo's younger cousin.

The journey to Buckland is just a front.  Frodo (with Sam) intends to leave the Shire as he has been instructed to by Gandalf.  Pippin is unaware of this, and unaware entirely of The Ring.  However, Buckland is on the border of the Shire, whereas Hobbiton is more in the middle.  So it makes for a good cover story for Frodo and Sam to leave Hobbiton without attracting too much attention.  Very few hobbits even think of leaving the shire.

On the way, they encounter mysterious Black Riders.  They wail loudly, ride dark horses, never reveal their face below their cloak, and sniff the ground for tracks.  Frodo and company quickly piece together that these are servants of the Enemy.  To avoid them, Frodo and company trek through the woods instead of the main road.

But it isn't all bad news.  They also find some Elves, who give them food and a safe place to sleep, though the advice is questionable.  Eventually, by the end of the second chapter, they have arrived in Buckland.

The journey takes about four days, stopping occasionally to eat and to sleep.  Towards the end of the second day, after eating supper, as the sun is setting, "[Frodo] picked up his stick again.  'Well, we all like walking in the dark,' he said, 'So let's put some miles behind us before bed.'

What does Frodo mean, they all like walking in the dark?  Keep in mind they are walking through a forest - there are no lights except the stars and moon.  This isn't a quick jaunt through familiar territory.  They are being pursued by the Enemy.  And even under safer conditions, what is there to like about walking in the dark?

I don't ask this question as a pure hypothetical.  A week ago I decided to go on a walk through a path in the woods.  I had never been there before and was excited to explore a new place.  But I got there much later than I intended.  After about 30 minutes, the realities of sundown were becoming hard to deny.  I didn't want to explore this place by the light of my phone's flashlight.  I wanted to walk through the woods during the day and see and enjoy them.  So I turned back - and as I got back towards the entrance, darkness was already apparent.  I had to strain my eyes to see, and by the time I reached my car it was undeniably nighttime.  The dark did not enhance the experience for me.  So, again, what is there to like about walking in the dark?

When we walk, we primarily use our eyes.  We have five senses, but we mostly just use one.  Is this route safe?  Is there a sudden incline or descent?  Is the street safe to cross?  Is the path narrowing?  Is there water or mud or a fence or a fire?  We may hear a car or smell a campfire or feel the ground shifting beneath our feet, but when that happens, what do we do?  We look to confirm.  Our ears or noses or feet need to be verified.  But our eyes?  Well, seeing is believing.

If we see a car but don't hear it, or see a fire but don't smell it, we find it a little weird, but we don't dismiss what our eyes are seeing.  It can be hard to dismiss something we saw.  "But I saw it with my own two eyes!"  This is why most magic tricks are visual in nature.  An auditory 'trick' is too easily shaken off.  Visual tricks are harder to explain.

And yet, our eyes are only useful if we are facing a certain direction.  Our noses and ears can smell and hear in all directions.  We will feel something touch our skin even if we aren't expecting anything to touch us.  That's why being a pickpocket is a skill, and not just a matter of reaching into someone's pockets when they aren't paying attention.

Walking in the dark challenges us.  Walking in the dark requires us to lean greatly on other senses.  When we hear something, we won't be able to confirm it with our eyes.  When we feel the ground shift beneath our feet, we can't just look down to assess.  We'll have to slow down.  But if we do, we will notice something remarkable.  The rest of our senses wake up.  We will hear more, our feet will feel more.  Because we can't rely on our eyes, everything else becomes enhanced.  And we will find we are as capable as we were when we depended so much on sight.

Returning to our text, I believe part of why Frodo says they all like walking in the dark has to do with hobbit anatomy.  They have hairy, tough feet, and they walk barefoot.  Their feet help them feel the ground with incredible detail.  We usually walk in shoes and so our sensitivity is dulled.  But hobbits can sense a great deal of information through their feet.  They like walking in the dark because they are able to.  Despite having eyes like other beings on Middle Earth, hobbits delight in what makes them special.

When I arrived at those woods, I knew it was later than I had hoped.  I knew it would get dark soon.  But I still went.  Why?  Because even though I have my eyes, I also have a strong sense of direction.  It is difficult for me to get lost.  I knew, even if I stayed out longer than I intended, I'd be able to find my way back.  And, to be honest, I like that I have that capacity.

There are other ways, too, it may seem to others we walk in the dark, but in fact we get particular pleasure precisely because we know we can surmount the challenge.  Some people are particularly good at getting tasks done right before the deadline, whereas for others that prospect is too difficult.  Some people prefer to drive without a GPS, claiming the turn-by-turn directions takes the joy out of driving.  None of us have hobbit feet, but we all have some kind of talent or preference that turns a normally difficult situation into an enjoyable challenge.  We all like walking in the dark - though exactly what darkness we relish in differs from person to person.

A final thought:  Diversity is a bit of a buzzword nowadays.  In some ways, it is a political issue.  As an educator and youth worker, diversity is in my face whether I want it or not.  All children are different.  I have had similar students over the course of years of my work, but none who were identical, and rarely similar students in the same class.  Classrooms are essentially jungles of competing and conflicting personalities.  That's one of the things that make being a teacher such a difficult job.

However, this diversity has benefits.  For one thing, everyone brings their own views to the classroom content.  This means everyone has something unique to say about the content.  When all these ideas are brought to the fore, conversations are richer, as students mix and match (and reject) what they hear and integrate it (or not) into their own thinking.  I'll take the article I linked a step further: Diversity, for it's own sake, is beneficial because diversity, on it's own, has value.  We want the best ideas, and hearing more ideas makes it more likely we will find the best ones.

Connecting diversity to the original point, everyone relishes different darkness.  Some people excel where others fail.  The more diverse our groups are, the more likely we will be able to succeed whatever darkness we encounter.

Identify your skills.  Identify the darkness it illuminates.  Take joy in succeeding where others falter.  But then, find those groups that are failing, find those people who are struggling where you excel, and join them.  If we all walk together in the dark, the darkness will become something we not only fear less but something we enjoy more.

The Lord of the Rings: An Ethical Guide is a Patreon-supported project.  Thank you to all those who have contributed.

Like this project?  Want to learn more?  Want exclusive access to behind-the-scenes content?  Go to my Patreon site and see how you can become a part of the action!

Reflection in a Busy World

This week's chapter is called "The Shadow of the Past."  Gandalf returns after a years-long disappearance and reveals to Frodo the true identity of Bilbo's "magic ring."  He tells him why Sauron made it, how he lost it, and how it passed from Sauron to Isildur to Deagol to Smeagol/Gollum to Bilbo.  In nearly all cases, the Ring betrayed its bearer.  The Ring, of course, has it's own agenda and will.  When Isildur was attacked and killed by orcs the Ring slipped from his finger and fell into a nearby river.  There it remained for centuries, until Smeagol and Deagol (cousins) were fishing.  Deagol found the Ring, but Smeagol saw it, too, and wanted it.  He killed Deagol for it.  Yet more centuries later, the Ring then abandoned Smeagol and Bilbo found it on the ground.  Bilbo eventually escaped Smeagol's cave by the Ring's treachery (though perhaps also by Bilbo's own questionable character).

Only Bilbo, though with considerable help from Gandalf, willingly gave up The One Ring.  This leads Gandalf to conclude that hobbits have a special sort of strength that will be of use against the Ring.  Frodo must bear the Ring.

Meanwhile, outside Bag End, the hobbits continue their merry lives.  However, there are unusual happenings.  Elves have been seen heading west and more dwarves than usual are on the road, bearing unsettling news.  The conversation at the Green Dragon, the Shire's neighborhood watering hole, often revolve around these events.  What do they mean?  And does it matter to the hobbits?  Many say no and that they should continue to ignore other folk, as they have done for generations.

Samwise Gamgee, Frodo's gardener and son of The Gaffer (Who was Bilbo's gardener), is one of the hobbits who think they should pay attention to these events in the outside world.  He argues with another hobbit named Ted Sandyman while a crowd watches.  After Ted says something the text tells us that

There was some laughing and clapping: the audience seemed

to think that Ted had scored a point... [Ted] drained his mug and went out noisily.

Sam sat silent and said no more.  He had a good deal to think about.

Arguing well can be difficult.  Online arguing can be.......... a travesty.  In order to have an effective argument online there have to be diligent moderators deleting trolling comments and possibly blocking people from participating when they show themselves to be unwilling to make productive contributions.  I've tried to facilitate a few conversations online - it isn't easy.  It is easy for people to get riled up and go from making productive and coherent comments to rambling and insulting comments.  And that's when people are trying to be productive.

Then there are inherent limitations of being online.  People can write as much or as little as you want, so there's no telling if a lack of response is because they have stopped participating, are taking their time in creating a smart, worthwhile post, or are typing a long rambling tirade.  By the time it is posted, it is too late.  In person you could have said "Stop right there, let me answer what you've said so far."  Online it can become unwieldy even if everyone is arguing in good faith.  And that usually isn't the case.

Another obvious limit is in person one can read facial cues and tone of voice.  Online, there are two tones, this one AND THIS ONE.  But caps lock lacks nuance.  What is the difference between these two sentences:

I AM STARTING A NEW JOB

and

I LOST MY WALLET

Obviously, one is excited and the other is stressed.  But if the content of the sentence isn't so clear, it can be hard to know.  Let's take another example:

TRUMP 2020 HE IS GOING TO WIN!

It is impossible to tell if the speaker is pro- or anti-Trump.  In person, I wager, it would be obvious.

But the hardest part of online arguing - and arguing in general - is the audience.  An audience makes the argument a spectator sport.  In person it is possible to limit the audience.  Online, it is not.  Even when talking in a one on one chat, there is little stopping one party from making the conversation public.  And what happens then?  Likes, shares, retweets, comments OH the comments.  Like with the crowd in the Green Dragon inn, many people will be "Laughing and clapping: the audience seeming to think that someone on their side has scored a point."

Too often, the point we applaud is a zinger that get's the opponent off balance rather than a statement that cuts into the other side's argument and weakens it.  So not only are we wastefully applauding, we aren't even applauding the content of the argument.  Why do we do this?

I think the answer is obvious: it feels good to make fools of your opponents.  If the other side are fools, your side isn't.  Gary Johnson looked like an idiot when he said "What is a leppo?"  Everyone took pleasure in it.  Hell, even Johnson played along.  However,  if you watch the rest of the original interview, when he was told Aleppo is in Syria he was able to quickly give a relevant answer.  No one took the error for what it was - superficial and inconsequential.  They, pardon, I should admit my participation We were too busy having fun.  But it didn't really move the situation forward.  It didn't impact Johnson's Presidential chances, and it didn't help the people suffering in Aleppo.

Getting back to our text.  Soon after scoring his point, Ted "noisily" leaves the Green Dragon.  His part was done but he didn't let it end.  For him, the argument was about the attention he received.  Whether the noise was others congratulating him on his way out or him making a scene to ensure his absence did not go unnoticed, Ted's purpose is to gain attention and increase his reputation.  Sam, however, sits quietly and "had a good deal to think about"

In the heat of an argument, whether an audience is present or not, pride inevitably ends up in the mix.  It is hard for it not to.  You are arguing a point of view, but it is YOUR point of view, and you've probably held it for some time.  You probably hang out with people who have the same views as you (and possibly purge your friendships occasionally to ensure this homogeneity).  It's more than a point of view - it is a part of who you are.  So, to be convinced otherwise, you need to sacrifice part of yourself.

Besides that, it just sucks to admit you were wrong.  In the midst of arguing, when we have just stated why we think X, it is very difficult to recognize, and then act on, that X is actually wrong.  Especially if any personal insults have been hurled.  Especially if we have drawn an audience.  Especially if we picked the fight in the first place.  How foolish will we look if we admit we are wrong?  Are we sure we're wrong?  Maybe we're just tired.  How bad will it look if we admit we are wrong, but later reverse our position again?

We need to find a way to remove pride from the situation.

Ted does not do this.  As he leaves, he is makes sure people see him.  He uses the argument to raise his own stature.   But Sam is quiet, and he stays, and he thinks.  I think this is the key to changing minds.

If you want to persuade someone, give them some space afterwards.  The most common error I see in online debates is haranguing someone over and over and over again without giving them time to respond.  This happens in person, too, but I think it's more obviously problematic.  But online everyone wants to get their say (and easily can) so you get consecutive posts making similar points - adding nothing to the conversation but ensuring those people get seen.  For those people this argument is an opportunity to be noticed and nothing more.  It is about them and not the topic.  (Of course I am not referring to personal narratives people may tell that are relevant to the topic - while those may also make similar points they also serve an important purpose to show that the situation in question is common across experiences).

Similarly, we should strive to be like Sam even when we are right.  When we are right, we should not encourage applause.  When we see a crowd gather, we should not shift our tactic towards cheap shots.  When the argument is done, we should not leave "noisily."  We should be quiet and think.  We should reflect.  Reflection is an important part of any experience - it is crucial in understanding the experience and learning from it.  There is always something to learn.

Perhaps we will realize a better way to make our argument.  Or perhaps we'll find a new flaw in the opposing argument.  Or maybe we'll finally figure out how to respond to a new argument brought against us that we didn't know how to respond to in the moment.  Or maybe we'll realize they brought up some good arguments and that we need to adjust our views.  Or maybe we'll realize we were, actually, wrong.  All of these are important things to realize.  But few realizations happen in the heat of an argument.

Arguing has an important role in society.  If you argue, then you care.  This also holds true in the work place and in relationships.  Now, obviously, name calling and grandstanding and violence are beyond the bounds of acceptable behavior.  But verbally arguing can be good.  Airing grievances is a release valve against resentment and silence.  Sometimes the other party doesn't even know how we felt until we say it.  Sometimes they know how we feel but don't understand why.  Sometimes they know how we feel and understand why but have different priorities than us.  There are lots of legitimate reasons to argue.  There's a reason the comments section is open on this blog.  I'm happy to argue ideas with people.

But arguing is a form of communication, not a form of thought.  A society (or workplace, relationship, etc) needs both.  You, and whoever else is participating, need space afterwards.  Get it for yourself.  Give it to others.  Without it, arguing becomes entertainment and validation - a way to "win" and feel smart (at the expense of someone else losing and feeling dumb).  It ceases to be an opportunity to grow and learn and improve.  Only when the talking stops can reflection begin.  And while we cannot be sure others will use the space we give them wisely, we can take comfort in the fact that that means we will be better prepared than them for the next argument.

The Lord of the Rings: An Ethical Guide is a Patreon-supported project.  Thank you to all those who have contributed.

Like this project?  Want to learn more?  Want exclusive access to behind-the-scenes content?  Go to my Patreon site and see how you can become a part of the action!

Seeing Everyone

How often have you felt someone in your life sees only a part of you?  They see you only as someone who can help them, or they see you only as a horror movie aficionado, or they see you only as an authority figure; or only as a subordinate.  You are only a parent or a child or a student or a barista or an athlete or a musician or a master of celebrity impressions.  It feels a little disappointing.  Here you are - a full and complex (and ever-changing) human being and they try to squeeze you into a single category.  Beyond disappointing, it can be enraging.  It can be oppressive.

And then you show your breadth.  An opportunity comes to show your fuller potential - and they are surprised.  They laugh.  They are shocked.  They say something like, "Hey I thought you were _________, but actually you're more!"  And you want to shout back that of course you are!  I mean, if they're a full person, why can't you be, too?!

Or maybe the opportunity doesn't come.  Maybe they live their whole lives thinking you are X, but in fact you are XYZ and ABC and so much more.  Their loss - but also you want them to know.  No one likes to be underappreciated.

This week's chapter - the first chapter of our text - is a transitional text.  It takes those who may know our Creative Wizard only from The Hobbit and attempts to prepare them for the tale to come.  From an adventure story with dragons and riddles and gold to a much more fraught journey of danger and darkness.  For The Hobbit, Bilbo Baggins is an appropriate protagonist.  Joyful, devious, cautious and clever, he is a hero befitting a children's story.  But now things will get more serious.  Bilbo exits the narrative, and Frodo becomes the central character.

This is done rather bluntly in the text.  Much of the chapter occurs during Bilbo's birthday party (which is also Frodo's, though he doesn't seem to care as much) - a huge endeavor of food and invitations and fireworks.  Towards the end, Bilbo gives a speech to the guests.  Suddenly, he vanishes.  The text says:

"Then there was a dead silence and, suddenly, after several deep

breaths, every Baggins, Boffin, Took, Brandybuck, Grubb,

Chubb, Burrows, Bolger, Bracegirdle, Brodhouse, Goodbody,

Hornblower and Proudfoot began to talk at once."

Bilbo then goes home and is confronted by Gandalf, who reprimands him for using the Ring for such a silly trick.  Bilbo then leaves the Shire, as has been his plan, leaving all his possessions to Frodo.  When Frodo goes home to look for Bilbo he finds Gandalf there instead, who confirms Bilbo has left the Shire.  Gandalf then gives Frodo a warns Frodo of the Ring that he should, "keep it safe, keep it secret!"  The true nature of the ring has not yet been discovered (though we know it is The One Ring).  In the text it's all very mysterious.  Frodo, certainly, does not know the danger of the story he is about to begin.  We rarely do.

Look again at the text singled out above.  It caught my eye because it is a rather clumsy long list of names.  No fewer than 10 families of hobbits are named.  This happens quite a few times in this chapter.  The Creative Wizard could have said "many hobbits," but instead takes the time to name families.  Even though they don't have much function in the narrative, their individuality is highlighted.

Think back to what I said earlier about being seen only as a part of your whole self.  Now flip that.  Who do we know as only a part of their whole self - and are glad for that?  Baristas, gas station attendants, colleagues, online friends, supervisors, etc.  These are full people with entire lives - of which we see only a small piece.  We know how we feel when we are not fully appreciated.  So we must admit we know how others feel when we do it to them.

But what can be done?  We are busy.  They are only a waitress at a restaurant we frequent.  Or, more accurately, they are only a waitress to us.  We intellectually realize they are a full person even as we only allow them to fulfill a certain role in our life (how often have you invited one of these people deeper int your life?).  They remain, to us, only X.

And that's reasonable, I think.  While there are problems with Dunbar's number, certainly there must be some upper limit of comprehensive relationships we can have with others.  We cannot thoroughly know everybody.

But that shouldn't stop us from trying to know people at least a little better.  Promote a familiar stranger to an acquaintance, and an acquaintance to a casual friend.  Nod hello to the people you regularly see on your commute.  Greet the custodians who work in your building.  Get to know the people who frequent the same online spaces that you do.  We tend to be surrounded by people much of the day but we still manage to feel frighteningly alone.  The way that gets solved is through action.  A change in habits and attitudes.  And if we see others, they cannot help but to see us.

A simple way to begin is to learn the names of the service people you interact with regularly.  You already are familiar with them, and they probably wear a name tag already.  When you begin or end your interaction with them, say their name.  Dale Carnegie says, "That a person's name is to that person the sweetest and most important sound in any language."  Elevate them a little - show them you see them as individuals.  They may even reciprocate.  And while I don't think anyone will find their new best friend this way, you just might make the spaces you inhabit more welcoming and friendly, both for others and for yourself.  And that, alone, is a worthy goal.


The Lord of the Rings: An Ethical Guide is a Patreon-supported project.  Thank you to all those who have contributed.

Like this project?  Want to learn more?  Want exclusive access to behind-the-scenes content?  Go to my Patreon site and see how you can become a part of the action!

Bonus: L'shana tovah, Gollum!

Today is a holiday for Jews everywhere - Today we celebrate Rosh Hashana, the Jewish new year, and welcome in 5779.  Jewish tradition says Jews should both look forward to the new year and also reflecting on the past year, specifically on the ways we could have been better but were not.

To that end, there is a tradition called tashlich, which literally means 'cast off', that Jews do on Rosh Hashana.  Jews go to a natural source of water, each with a bit of bread in their hands.  They then throw the bread into the water.  The bread symbolizes the things they wish to cast off from last year.  Sins but also errors, unintended consequences, emotional loss of control, sadness, unnecessary arguments with friends, petty squabbles, really anything at all you don't want next year.  It's sort of like a New Year's resolution, but with the explicit acknowledgment of "I used to do it poorly."

Whenever I run Rosh Hashana services for teenagers, I use a specific example from Lord of the Rings to show what it is like for someone to acknowledge the bad within them and to attempt to cast it off.

I encourage the teens to think of something specific they did that they do not want to do again.  Then, bread in hand, face the water and scream "Leave now and never come back!" and then throw their bread into the water as hard as they can.  It gives the ceremony a visceral feel to it, and of course shouting is a perfect intersection of "things teens sometimes want to do" and "things you usually cannot do during religious services," so it's inherently interesting.

Happy new year to all!

Play it again, Samwise!

5 years ago, I decided to embark on a great endeavor to see what would happen if I analyzed a text the way Jews analyze the Torah.  I chose Tolkien's epic The Lord of the Rings.  I read a chapter a week (sometimes two), found a meaning in the text and wrote a short essay about it.  I was thrilled with the result, which is the website you have before you.

Now, this year I will do it again.  Since our first go around,  I've moved from California back to Massachusetts, changed jobs and apartments seemingly dozens of times, and received two Master's degrees, one in Jewish Education and one in Jewish Studies.  But I still have this passion for text analysis and bringing meaning to the 'mundane'.  So here we are.

OK, enough introduction.  The cycle begins September 22nd, which is Frodo and Bilbo's birthday.



(However - keep an eye out for a bonus preview post linking a key scene in the LOTR movies to Rosh Hashana, the Jewish New Year, which is right around the corner...)

All's Well as Ends Better

This week - our final week - we read "The Grey Havens."  The Shire has been saved from Saruman's cruelty, and the work of repairing it begins.  Houses had been destroyed and trees had been felled needlessly.  Sam is the busiest at work, taking the soil that was a gift from Galadriel and spreading it around the Shire.  It grows in the next year as much as it should have taken 20 years.

The Gaffer, Sam's father, says, "All's well as ends better!"  Given all the struggles we've seen, we should hope things are going to be 'better.'  In everyday life the quote is "all's well that ends well," but why not hope for it to be better?  Struggles and pain and slow progress are a poor payment for things to just be the same as always.  We want to see improvement.

Our text tells us how our four hobbits return to their life in the Shire.

Merry and Pippin lived together for some time... it warmed all [the Shires'] hearts to

see them go riding by with their mail-shirts so bright and their shield so splendid,

laughing and singing songs of far away...Frodo and Sam, however, went back to ordinary attire.

Merry and Pippin enjoy the spoils of their victory long after the victory is over.  There's nothing wrong in basking in that glory, but the text now leaves them behind.  No one likes an uncle Rico, but that's the extreme.  We can't find much fault in what they are doing.  However, they are not moving onward.  Not like Sam.

Sam gets married, and has a child, a daughter.  He and his family move in with Frodo at Bag End, and we are told Sam becomes Governor at a later date.  Sam goes on the Quest, but then when he returns, his great deed being done, he returns to his old life.  Sam does not hold on to past glories like Merry and Pippin, but nor is he stuck with them like Frodo (who becomes ill on October 6th (when he was stabbed at Weathertop) and on March 25th (when the Ring was destroyed)).  Sam represents those of Middle Earth who see great things, but then must return to the humdrum of life.  And he does.

We've talked a lot about what the message of our text is.  We've mentioned that war is the true enemy (so many times I even feel self conscious about linking to it!), and that we, like Faramir, must love only that which it threatens.  What does it threaten?  Let's broaded our  search, and go from war to conflict.

All conflict threatens peace and growth and love and peace.  I know I said peace twice - the first is a generic peace, a lack of conflict.  But the second I mean as an inner peace.  All conflict, all of the Rings which we bear - though we may not know where our own Mount Doom is - prevent us from living full and happy and peaceful lives.  We may live lives that are exciting and dramatic and full of twists and turns, but our text teaches us that those must in our eyes seem less desirable than peace and contentment,  Someone will get hurt in the excitement, the drama may be too much to bear, not everyone will be able to endure the twists.  We must all aim for the simple joy of living with loved ones, raising the next generation, and enjoying our time together.

Many stories in our culture end when the drama ends.  Alfred Hitchcock said "What is drama, but life, with the dull bits cut out,"  The scene ends at a dramatic point, montages speed up weeks or months of tedious practice, irrelevant conversation or thoughts of characters are not shared. But there is a toll to all of this.  Real life doesn't mirror stories.  It's rougher and more grotesque than that.  But here, the text is not a celebration of the War, or the Quest, or the Ring.  It goes on to detail "where they are now."  We're supposed to care about these characters fully, not just about their prowess in battle.

"All's end as ends better," is a fitting quote, then.  Things are even better than they were - but what good is that unless we enjoy it?  In Star Wars, Han Solo is supposed to sound selfish when he says "What good is a reward if you ain't around to use it?"  But there's some truth to that.  What good is fighting to defeat evil if you aren't able to enjoy the peace that comes afterwards?  Even if that peace is one of "the dull bits."

So our Creative Wizard takes us on a tour of post-War Middle Earth, where justice reigns and our heroes are free to live their lives out in peace.  We walk away from the text not just knowing Sauron has been defeated, but that life in Middle Earth goes on, even if we aren't there to watch it.

Enjoy the adventures life has for you, be sure to return with boons - souvenirs and lessons from your quests - and then, having returned, get back to the life you had been living.  Adventures are the fuel that drive our engines, but our daily lives are the car which that engine drives.  We must live for peace and joy and contentment, and not get attached to the battles and the drama.  We must ensure that we love "only that which they defend." (I guess I linked to that page after all...)  We must always be ready, eagerly, to return to the joyful humdrum.  As Sam says at the closing of our text (but the beginning of the rest of his own story) "Well, I'm back."

Living Free

This week (Sept 7th) we read "The Scouring of the Shire".  The Hobbits return to the Shire to find... a gate.  And it is locked.  And none will let them in, even though they all (gatekeepers and travelers) are hobbits.  There is talk of "the boss" and "the chief" and "Sharkey" and "the chief's men."  This is not the Shire we left in Fellowship of the Ring.

When Frodo and company finally convince the other hobbits to open the gate, they tell them of all the new rules that have been put in place.  There is no pipeweed to have, all food must be sent for separation (the hobbits have suspected for some time, though, that it is being hoarded), the pubs have been boarded up, and much of the Shire has been demolished to make new "gloomy" and "ugly" houses.  There is also a list of rules that are strictly enforced.

We only learn one of the rules, though many are hinted at.  The hobbits are put up in a guard house for the night (also, of course, against rules), and we are told "Pippin broke Rule 4 by putting most of the next day's allowance of wood on the fire."  The other hobbits start to get antsy, but Frodo calms them all down, and they begin to develop a plan to overthrow the mysterious tyrant.  Further, Pippin makes a point of tearing down the rules wherever he finds them.  The hobbits are at first terrified at this defiance, but slowly it begins to inspire them.

But the hobbits are betrayed, and as they ride through the Shire trying to inspire the residents to join their rebellion, they are set upon by several hobbits dressed in uniform.  We are told they look "both important and rather scared."  The company laughs at them.  Not a bold laugh, or a laugh meant to intimidate, but a laugh of amusement.  They have seen war beyond what anyone here has experienced - they have no need to follow their rules or listen to their commands.  Eventually, one of the uniformed hobbits, Robin, admit he doesn't like working for Sharkey, but that he isn't allowed to quit.  Sam responds: "If I hear 'not allowed to' much oftener, I'm going to get angry."

Frodo and company are, indeed, important.  They have completed great feats, and are honored through Middle Earth.  Merry and Pippin are still dressed in the vestments of Rohan and Gondor.  However, they forget it often.  It has become ingrained within them that they have no need to advertise it.  They would be just as valiant in their plain clothing.

The uniformed hobbits, on the other hand, draw strength from their uniform - they need to look important in order to feel important.  And they need to feel important, or else they would feel the oppression their fellows feel.  We sense a profound sadness when Robin admits he'd rather not be there.  Before admitting that, he was hiding that desire even from himself.

The agency of all the hobbits has been suppressed.  Their only joy is in following rules, even if they are ridiculous rules.  And if they are punished for breaking the rules (there are many snitches), they are forced to live a life of boredom, just hoping to not be punished.  That's an awful way to live.

But rules are meant to be broken, right?  Sort of.  Breaking a rule just because it is a rule is rather immature - that doesn't lead to any particular betterment of one's life.  Rules are there for "the people."  They are there to guide the people and to show them the best way for things to be done.  "Best," at least, according to the leader.  But, sooner or later, one must break put from underneath the leader to become one's own master.  Or, in this case, a hero must come with the boon from their own quest, to share with the community.  When other hobbits broke the rules, they were powerless against the consequences.  But Frodo and Sam have been to Mordor and back.  A couple of bullies don't intimidate them.

Sometimes we are the hero, bringing our knowledge and skills from the outside.  But sometimes we are the oppressed, and we need a hero to come and show us a new way.  Breaking rules not just to break them, but breaking them for a higher purpose.  I recently started a new job, and the way I write lessons plans is not according to the template they expect teachers to use.  But, fortunately, they liked and understood my structure, and were OK with me doing it my way.  I wasn't refusing to use their template because I didn't feel like it - I had a real alternative.

Here is a harrowing article about being a modern sex slave.  I share it mostly because she says, at the end, that she has PTSD from the experience, and that one of the hardest pieces of becoming free is that no one is responsible for you but you.  For us who are lucky enough to avoid this fate, the idea that no one is responsible for you but you is inspiring - I can do what I want!  But imagine growing up where all your choices were made for you.  The idea of needing to make all those decisions for oneself must  be overwhelming.  It is similar to prisoners who become institutionalized.  Especially at the rate technology is changing.  Imagine needing to learn all of that at once!

But the article also involves one person, "Jane," choosing to write the article, even if it puts herself at risk, in an attempt to save those still stuck.  If Jane only freed herself, she'd be a fortunate woman for whom we'd wish all the luck in the world.  But, by returning to her past, acknowledging there are others who still do not have the freedom that she has, she becomes a hero.  Jane's boon is to share that freedom is possible, even if it is initially terrifying.

Such as it is with our hobbits.  They incur the wrath of the Chief and his men, and there is a battle in the Shire (despite Frodo's best attempts to avoid bloodshed).  But, with Pippin and Merry to inspire them, the other hobbits do not lose heart, as they might have otherwise.

When they arrive at Bag End, they find "Sharkey" waiting for them.  It is Saruman!  Saruman has no great plan - he just wanted to destroy the Shire, as Isengard had been wrecked,  He thought it unfair that his home should be destroyed, with all its defenses, but that the Shire should survive the War of the Ring untouched.  It was purely out of meanness.

But what are our heroes fighting for?  It isn't that Pippin, Merry, Frodo & Sam don't like rules or gates or leaders.  If anything, they understand their need more than ever.  But the rules come from within, and the gates are not locked (or swung open) indiscriminately.  Being free from a tyrant means you get to make your own rules.  In fact, you must make your own rules if you are to avoid becoming the tyrant yourself.  Otherwise, you are irresponsible, and while some may find you fun and enjoyable company, you are not a mature companion.  Tom Sawyer would be fun to hang out with for a few days, but Huckleberry Finn is the one between them with real depth.  Pleasure is passing.

Living free means not needing to look important, nor looking scared, as the uniformed hobbits did.  If you have conquered your Quest, your monster, your enemy, you know you are accomplished, and you know you are able to face any challenges in the future.  You know it without needing to advertise it.  We can imagine all the hobbits, having overthrown Saruman, feel more important than they ever looked.

So now the Shire has been saved.  All the wars are over.  We have one chapter left, which will wrap up our text.  Now that peace has been restored we can finally see, as Faramir put it, "That which [war] defends."