I'm continuing my Lord of the Rings reread, and I have to say that this time through (this is probably the sixth or seventh time I've read them) I'm focusing on taking deeper lessons from the story instead of just reading for entertainment. Of course, participating in a LOTR book club on Monday nights with some brilliant friends only helps the cause.
One of the themes we've talked about a bit at the book club is nature. Both Tolkien and C.S. Lewis use nature as a thematic element in their fantasy stories, and both seem to have similar methods of introducing and using it.
And as it so happens, I've been thinking a lot about the role of nature in my life lately. I just returned from a wonderful vacation where I got to see both the piney splendor of the Pacific Northwest and the rocky lakeshores of the Catskill Mountains. While traveling, I began to read C.S. Lewis's The Four Loves, which includes a great section about nature. So, let me start this off with a section of The Fellowship of the Ring. The Fellowship has just emerged from the Mines of Moria and, under the leadership of Aragorn, decides to seek refuge in Lothlórien. Boromir shows some reluctance to enter the forest.
He stepped forward; but Boromir stood irresolute and did not follow. 'Is there no other way?' he said.
'What other fairer way would you desire?' said Aragorn.
'A plain road, though it led through a hedge of swords,' said Boromir. 'By strange paths has this company been led, and so far to evil fortune. Against my will we passed under the shades of Moria, to our loss. And now we must enter the Golden Wood, you say. But of that perilous land we have heard in Gondor, and it is said that few come out who once go in; and of that few none have escaped unscathed.'
'Say not unscathed, but if you say unchanged, then maybe you will speak the truth,' said Aragorn. 'But lore wanes in Gondor, Boromir, if in the city of those who once were wise they now speak evil of Lothlórien. Believe what you will, there is no other way for us – unless you would go back to Moria-gate, or scale the pathless mountains, or swim the Great River all alone.'
'Then lead on!' said Boromir. 'But it is perilous.'
'Perilous indeed,' said Aragorn, 'fair and perilous; but only evil need fear it, or those who bring some evil with them. Follow me!'
Boromir isn't afraid to speak his mind, and speak it plainly – even if he is wrong (one of the reasons I like him, but that's another story). Boromir, subject to what must have been the Gondorian equivalent of an urban legend, believes the woods to be wicked and evil. Aragorn corrects him, noting that the woods is dangerous, but that the real danger lies within one's own heart (think Star Wars: Luke's strange cave training with Yoda).
C.S. Lewis echoes this sentiment in The Four Loves.
"If you take nature as a teacher she will teach you exactly the lessons you had already decided to learn; this is only another way of saying that nature does not teach."
Lewis suggests that Nature is a myriad of different things all at once: it's life and death. It's beautiful and terrible. It's forgiving and unforgiving. As Lewis puts it, it at once includes, "overwhelming gaiety, insupportable grandeur and sombre desolation."
But Lewis certainly doesn't suggest that Nature is without its merits. He continues:
"Nature never taught me that there exists a God of glory and of infinite majesty. I had to learn that in other ways. But nature gave the word glory a meaning for me. I still do not know where else I could have found one."
For Lewis, the lesson that Nature taught was one of God's glory. Lewis believes he never would have fully understood God's glory – or learned to fear God – without "certain ominous ravines" and "unapproachable crags." But to others, Nature appeals to the "dark gods in the blood." Though Nature can suggest glory, it presents other things, too – sex, hunger and power operate in Nature without shame.
We can certainly see this idea of nature as a "mirror" in Tolkien's Lothlórien, among other places. Boromir is right to fear the woods, because the woods will expose the fears that he carries in his heart. Tolkien's Nature, in and of itself, is not good or evil. It may reflect the good or evil present in it (as I'll note presently) or, in its natural course cause actions that seem to be good or evil, though they are neither (the foiling of the Fellowship on Caradhras).
We can see the effect of good or evil in nature if we read on to the end of the Lothlórien chapter. The Fellowship has reached Cerin Amroth, a hill with a vantage point of the surrounding lands. Frodo pauses to look out over the golden wood:
Frodo looked and saw, still at some distance, a hill of many mighty trees, or a city of green towers: which it was he could not tell. Out of it, it seemed to him that the power and light came that held all the land in sway. He longed suddenly to fly like a bird to rest in the green city. Then he looked eastward and saw all the land of Lorien running down to the pale gleam of Anduin, the Great River. He lifted his eyes across the river and all the light went out, and he was back again in the world he knew. Beyond the river the land appeared flat and empty, formless and vague, until far away it rose again like a wall, dark and drear. The sun that lay on Lothlorien had no power to enlighten the shadow of that distant height.
'There lies the fastness of Southern Mirkwood,' said Haldir. 'It is clad in a forest of dark fir, where the trees strive one against another and their branches rot and wither. In the midst upon a stony height stands Dol Guldur, where long the hidden Enemy had his dewlling. We fear now that it is inhabited again, and with power sevenfold. A black cloud lies often over it of late. In this high place you ay see the two powers that are opposed to one another; and ever they strive now in thought, but whereas the light perceives the very heart of the darkness, its own secret has not been discovered. Not yet' He turned and climbed swiftly down, and they followed him.
Nature can appear to be good or evil depending on both what is inhabiting it, and, again, depending on the perspective of the beholder. As Lewis would say, it teaches us no lessons than those we already wish to learn.
Instead, Lewis suggests we should "learn our theology and philosophy elsewhere." That we must "leave the hills and woods and go back to our studies, to church, to our Bibles, to our knees." And, in a specific note to nature lovers, Lewis continues, "Otherwise the love of nature is beginning to turn into nature religion. And then, even if it does not lead us to the Dark Gods, it will lead us to a great deal of nonsense."
I don't know about you, but to me this all makes perfect sense. I believe wholeheartedly – especially since I tend to be a "nature lover" – that the love of nature must be anchored in truth. Additionally, Tolkien's storytelling seems to back up the theological stylings of his good friend Lewis. Lothlórien is just one example.
As a parting thought: At book club on Monday we discussed Radagast, Gandalf's wizarding peer with a deep affection for nature (and possible St. Francis parallel). If Lewis suggests that a pure love of nature will, at best, lead to a "great deal of nonsense," then perhaps that's one reason why Radagast is considered a simpleton and a fool in the books.
