On Teaching Myth and Fantasy Literature in a time of Pandemic and Black Lives Matter

For the past few summers, I've taught an online version of a literature and philosophy course focusing on the fiction of J. R. R. Tolkien and C. S. Lewis. The philosophical readings include Aristotle, Immanuel Kant, and John Stuart Mill. The course is designed to help general education students think about how philosophers and literary artists pursue truth, increase their skills in literary interpretation, and formulate or evaluate their own ethical frameworks for decision making.

This summer the course had a different feel, mostly because of the strange situation my students and I found ourselves in. The class began in June, after most of the students had experienced the March quarantine/lock down due to COVID-19. They had had to leave campus and return home to complete their spring semester through remote learning. And before the course began, there was the killing of George Floyd and the subsequent Black Lives Matter protests in cities across the nation and the world, including in Portland, Oregon, about a thirty minute drive from George Fox University.

Entering the course, I admit to entertaining some doubts about the reading list. I wondered if our time might be better spent reading literature of authors of color and the philosophers of civil disobedience. Or maybe some medieval and renaissance texts dealing with plagues and pandemics. But the students already had their books, and the philosophical readings were mandated by the liberal arts director, so I had no choice but to forge ahead. What I did resolve to do is to pay attention as a I re-read these familiar books for material that could be applied to current events. Perhaps there were messages in these books that might offer guidance for our troubled times.

And it turns out there were--messages, that is. Often the students made these connections themselves and talked about them in their online discussion posts. In the video lectures, I tried to draw out and highlight some of the points of connection I saw. Herewith I offer reflections on some of the values of reading older, non-realistic literature and philosophy--even in these tumultuous times.

The value of escape

"Why should a man be scorned, if, finding himself in prison, he tries to get out and go home," Tolkien writes in his long essay "On Fairy Stories." The essay is essentially an apology (defense) of the writing and reading of fantasy literature, and Tolkien lays out four elements that he sees as fundamental to fantasy. This quote comes from the section on Escape, where Tolkien confronts the popular misconception that fantasy literature is mere escapism. For Tolkien, escape is not a negative term. And who can argue with his analogy in these times when we find ourselves trapped in prisons of our own making: greed, selfishness, and materialism. And in societal prisons of economic and health crises, prisons of environmental degradation and prisons of inequality and injustice. Of course, most of my students in the 18-25 age range don't need much convincing on this point. Not only have they grown up in a post 9/11 world and in a society where school shootings have become all too routine, most already are predisposed to love fantasy--whether it comes in the form of literature or movies or video games. For Tolkien, however, escape into the fantastic world led to another one of his four elements: Recovery. In the fantasy world, Tolkien believed, we could regain a clear view. We could "see things as we are meant to see them"--as things apart from ourselves. During the pandemic many have noted their renewed appreciation for the simple pleasures of food and drink, nature, and times of meditation and have talked about having a greater understanding of the truly fundamental and essential elements of life. As Tolkien notes, "It was in fairy stories that I first divined the potency of the words and the wonder of things, such as stone and wood and iron, trees and grass, house and fire, bread and wine."

The value of love

In the course, we read Aristotle's thoughts on the importance of friendship, and we read C. S. Lewis's The Four Loves. A couple of years ago, I started sharing with my students in this class a definition of love from a fellow C. S. Lewis scholar, Jason Lepojarvi. Jason's doctoral dissertation is entitled "God is Love, but Love is not God," and his definition stems from his reading of Lewis and Augustine. This time, I shared Jason's definition with them while we were reading Lewis's Till We Have Faces, a mythic novel that features a female heroine who loves fiercely but whose love is revealed as the novel progresses to be a selfish, possessive, and even devouring love. The definition goes like this:

"Love is an appreciative and responsive commitment to the other's flourishing insofar as possible and permissible."

I share with students several aspects I like about this definition:

1. It views love as an act of the will, not of the emotions (though to appreciate someone would involve emotions)
2. It places the focus on the other, not on the lover's needs or desires
3. It is comprehensive, encompassing many types of love: from affection, to friendship, to romantic love. It also applies equally to non-humans, to how we treat animals and the environment. For example, a pet owner who neglects to feed or take his dog to the vet is obviously not committed to his dog's flourishing!
4. It is aspirational. Like Paul's discourse on love in I Cor 13, it sets a high standard that I fail to reach daily. Yet think of what my life and relationships would look like if I were able to meet this standard--even some of the time.

While thinking deeply about the nature of love is always warranted, it seems particularly relevant now as quarantined family members have been spending more time at home together and as people of privilege think about the flourishing (or not) of their siblings of color. I find the discussion especially important for college students, many of whom are in the process of forming lifetime relationships. I hope that through reading about Orual in Lewis's novel they will become more aware of what love is not. It is not selfish; it is not possessive; it is not controlling. I warn them that if they find themselves in a relationship with someone who is controlling and manipulative, they should run the other way!

The value of anti-racism

One of the important legacies of the Black Lives Matter movement will be the recognition, on the part of the white and the privileged, that it is not enough not to be a racist; we must be actively anti-racist. We must confront systemic racism, and we must proactively identify and seek to eradicate racism wherever we find it. While the works and life of a white British professor of Old English Literature might seem an unlikely place to find literary support for anti-racism, I believe it is there, and I make a special effort to point it out to my students. I direct them to two pieces of evidence, one literary and one biographical.

For the literary evidence, consider Book II, Chapter 6 of The Fellowship of the Ring. The company wants to pass through the elvish land of Lorien. The elves are fine with this for most of the group including the men, elf, and the hobbits, but not for the lone dwarf. Haldir refers to the longstanding enmity between the elves and the dwarves, notes that dwarves are not allowed in elvish lands, and states that Gimli must be blindfolded and led through the forests of Lorien. Aragorn objects vigorously to this plan and notes that it is "hard on the dwarf" to be singled out. His solution to the problem is that all the members of the group should be blindfolded. "The company shall all fare alike," says Aragorn, in contemporary terms a great statement of solidarity. It's easy to see parallels between this event and traveling baseball teams during the days of segregation in the U.S. who said if the black members of the team were not welcome to stay at a hotel or eat in a restaurant, the team would look elsewhere for food and lodging. This is one of my favorite moments in the book, and it's even more interesting that Haldir blames the Dark Lord for the estrangement that divides the races and cultures of the dwarves and elves.

For the biographical evidence and proof that the Lothlorien chapter reflects Tolkien's own views, I share a letter that Tolkien wrote to a German publisher who, before bringing out a German translation of The Hobbit, wanted to confirm that Tolkien was of Aryan descent. Tolkien wrote two replies, the less civil of which included these lines:

If I am to understand that you are enquiring whether I am of Jewish origin, I can only reply that I regret that I appear to have no ancestors of that gifted people. . . . I have been accustomed . . . to regard my German name with pride, and continued to do so throughout the period of the late regrettable war, in which I served in the English army. I cannot, however, forbear to comment that if impertinent and irrelevant inquiries of this sort are to become the rule in matters of literature, then the time is not far distant when a German name will no longer be a source of pride.

Clearly Tolkien had no time or patience for simple racism and was not afraid to call it out and denounce it in the strongest terms when he saw it, whether in a letter to a publisher or a fictional setting in his secondary world of Middle Earth. And the Lothlorien chapter becomes even more poignant given Tolkien's own statement that he thought of the Dwarves "like Jews, at once native and alien in their habitations."

The value of hope

To return to Tolkien's essay, the final element of the fairy story is Consolation. Tolkien associates this with the happy ending, which he sees as essential to the form. He introduces his own created word, "euchatastrophe," to describe this literary phenomenon. Tolkien notes that often in fantasy tales the characters find themselves in perilous situations where all hope seems lost. But then a sudden, joyous turn occurs. It's easy to think of multiple plot points in The Hobbit and The Lord of the Rings that qualify as euchatastrophic moments, such as Gandalf or Tom Bombadill showing up at just the right time to save the hobbits or the dwarves.

Significantly, Tolkien uses theological terminology to label this feature of the fantasy story: "eucha," from "eucharist," and he makes his intention clear as he connects the concept to the biblical story. The greatest story of all, the story of salvation, according to Tolkien, is euchatastrophic. For Tolkien, the chief euchatastrophic events in the gospel story are Jesus's incarnation and his resurrection. At just the right time, the son of God entered the world to dwell among us, and at just the right time, God raised Jesus from the dead. It's hard to imagine a more euchatastrophic biblical text than Romans 5:6: "For while we were still weak, at the right time Christ died for the ungodly." Some translations have "powerless," which connects even more closely with the events in the novels.

So what does Tolkien's literary theory of fantasy have to do with us, as we face a pandemic that has killed 150,000 Americans and as protests continue nightly in major American cities asking for justice for people of color? Perhaps it reminds us that it's no good ignoring or denying that suffering and sorrow exist in the world. Tolkien is clear that just because fantasy stories have happy endings doesn't mean they don't have their share of sorrow and suffering. In fact, we could argue that for a large percentage of the novels the characters are living with hardship and suffering and that the heroes in his stories are those who use the virtue of courage to face hardship and suffering to make the world a better place. And as a result of enduring suffering, those heroes develop character, which sound very much like Paul's statement in Romans 5: "suffering produces endurance, and endurance produces character, and character produces hope." Finally, I can't think of a time in my own lifetime (unless it would be following the terrorist attack of 9/11) where, individually or collectively, we've been in more desperate need of hope.

The value of viewing life as a journey

At the Council of Elrond in Book II of The Fellowship of the Ring, after much discussion, Frodo agrees to be the one to bear the ring to the fires of Mount Doom. His words are significant:

I will take the Ring, though I do not know the way.

At this point, I introduce students to a philosophical concept from Christians Among the Virtues, by Stanley Hauerwas and Charles Pinches. While reviewing Aristotle's ideas about the development of virtues through practice and habit, the authors raise the question of whether life is best viewed as a trip or a journey. They make the following contrasts between the two: When we are going on a trip, we know well where we are going; we know roughly how long it will take to get there; and we know what preparations to make. But when we are going on a journey, we often have only a hazy idea of where we are going; we don't know how long it will take; and we may not know fully how to prepare.

Hauerwas and Pinches use the metaphor to explain why it is important for us to develop the virtues. If our life consists of a series of trips, we have little need of the virtues, but if our life is a journey, with many twists and turns and visions and revisions, we have the utmost need of virtues like courage and perseverance and hope.

Haurewas and Pinches point out that in life we make some of our biggest commitments without knowing exactly where those commitments will lead us. Marriage is a good example. When I made a promise to my wife 45 years ago at a wedding ceremony in Tulsa, OK, neither I nor she could have predicted where our journey together would lead: where we would live, how many children, if any, we would have, what jobs we would pursue, how long we would live--the lists goes on. I ask the students about their decision to commit to a college for their education. As they look back on the one or two or three years they've been at the university, most readily admit that they had no idea what they were getting into! And even if they remain happy with their choice of a college, as most seem to be, they can all talk about unexpected events that have occurred since they enrolled: changed majors, new relationships, trials and tribulations, etc.

Frodo's decision to bear the ring is a great example of a commitment that will lead to a journey, not a trip. Frodo knows where he is going (Mordor), but as he indicates, in a larger and more significant sense, he has no idea of how he will get there or what will be demanded of him along the way: "I do not know the way." As the Hebrew writer says of Abraham, when he was called, he set out, "not knowing where he was going" (Hebrews 11:8). After this discussion, when I ask my students how they would want to describe their own lives, to a person, they choose to describe their life, not as a trip, but as a journey.

The journey theme is featured in the "Walking Song," which Frodo learned from Bilbo and which he sings in Sam's presence early in the novel:

The Road goes ever on and on

Down from the door where it began.

Now far ahead the Road has gone,

And I must follow, if I can.

Pursuing it with weary feet,

Until it joins some larger way,

Where many paths and errands meet,

And whither then? I cannot say.

Ultimately this is one of the main takeaways I hope my students carry with them after reading the philosophers and the works of Lewis and Tolkien. Our life is a journey. We can choose to stay safe and secure in our hobbit hole or take the risk of stepping onto the road. If we do, it will be our faith and our virtues that will sustain us on the way. Only these can give us the courage to say, like Frodo, "I will take the ring, though I do not know the way." It is just such courage we need in these perilous times.