In a famous lecture delivered in 1939 at the University of St. Andrews, On Fairy-Stories, J.R.R. Tolkien stated one of his profound convictions: “The Gospels contain a fairy-story, or a story of a larger kind which embraces all the essence of fairy-story.” Tolkien’s idea anticipates Northrop Frye’s theory from The Great Code: The Bible and Literature, which states that all universal literary “archetypes” are contained within the Holy Scriptures. This thesis prompts us to reflect on the possible influence of the Bible in general, and the Gospels in particular, on Tolkien’s literary creations.
Indeed, the fact that Tolkien was invited by Father Alexander Jones to participate in the English translation of the Jerusalem Bible speaks to his deep affinity for the sacred texts of the Judeo-Christian tradition. Although he was supposed to translate the books of Jonah and Job, only the former was completed. But beyond this, it is impossible to ignore the presence of certain biblical archetypes in Tolkien’s literary writings. In particular, it is worthwhile to consider the parallels between key evil beings in the Apocalypse of Saint John and the evil beings of Middle-Earth. Far from being a mere intellectual exercise, such a reading is of special interest for our times.
The Adversaries of Christ in the Apocalypse of Saint John
From its very beginning, which is in Paradise, Christian Revelation presents to us “the mystery of iniquity” (2 Thes. 2: 7), made manifest through “that old serpent, who is called the devil and Satan” (Rev. 12:12). Acting through his “instruments,” beginning with the serpent that tempted Eve and extending to the heretical and apostate priests of the Old Testament—to whom Christ himself said, “you are of your father the devil” (John 8: 44)—he is the great adversary of God. Therefore, it is no surprise that in the final book of Holy Scripture, his identity is extensively revealed: he is the “great red dragon” (Apoc. 12: 3) at war with the majestic woman wearing a crown of twelve stars.
Although difficult to interpret, the allegorical-symbolic language of the Apocalypse is remarkably expressive. Its essence is easy to understand. We are dealing with a cosmic conflict far beyond our powers and comprehension. On one side is the woman—whom Saint Bede the Venerable and many Church Fathers tell us symbolizes the Church—giving birth to all those who convert and receive the sacrament of baptism. On the other side is the red dragon, who seeks to destroy her by causing the loss of those born for the Kingdom of God. The entire 12th chapter of the Apocalypse describes the dragon’s history. This continues in chapter 20, where it concludes after a final attack that, as Saint Bede tells us, will unfold across the face of the whole earth, through an unprecedented spread of heresies and sins that will “besiege” and “persecute” all who strive to remain faithful to the Gospel.
The devil has numerous acolytes. Among these, a prominent place is occupied by the two beasts described in chapters 13 and 19. The first one, coming up from the sea, receives its power from the dragon. Starting a total war with the Christian saints, it will shake even the chosen ones with the violence of the temptations to which it will subject them. Usually, this first beast is identified with theAntichrist uncovered by Saint John in his first epistle. The virtues by which one can confront this beast are two, namely faith and patience (Apoc. 13:10).
The second beast is described in the last part of chapter 13. It rises from the earth and relies on the same power of demonic origin as the first. As a particular accent, it specializes in the performance of false miracles (Apoc. 13:13), deceiving its followers and compelling them to bear the famous “mark of the beast” (Apoc. 13:16-18). Due to its bewitching abilities, the second beast is considered by the vast majority of classical exegetes to be a false prophet.
After a final assault, the ultimate defeat of the three great enemies of God and his saints will come: “And there came down fire from God out of heaven, and devoured them; and the devil, who seduced them, was cast into the pool of fire and brimstone, where both the beast and the false prophet shall be tormented day and night forever and ever,” (Apoc. 20: 9-10).
The three enemies of Middle-Earth: Melkor, Sauron, Saruman
Of all the major characters in Tolkien’s stories, the one called Melkor (in Quenya) and Morgoth (in Sindarin) is a perhaps the one more explicitly inspired by the biblical archetypes of the Old Testament. No reader has doubted, while reading the history described in The Silmarillion, that Melkor is a literary portrayal of Satan. Firstly, some of the greatest gifts were bestowed upon him by Eru Ilúvatar (i.e., God), namely power and knowledge. Like the fallen angel in the Bible, Melkor is a true leader of the highest celestial hierarchies represented by the Ainur. The temptation that led to his fall resulted from self-admiration prompted by his own greatness. In this way, he came to consider himself at least the equal of Eru, seeking, first and foremost, to compose his own music, independent of the cosmic symphony harmoniously woven by the Ainur around the Creator’s primary theme.
His imagination went wild. He ended up dreaming of the most outrageous thing possible, namely to create his own music—and perhaps an entire world. The hubristic impulse born in his heart led him to seek the Secret Fire—better known as the Imperishable Flame—in order to decipher the mystery of creation ex nihilo. Obviously, this was only accessible to the omnipotent Creator himself. From his inability to achieve his hidden goals, an unending envy was born. The destruction of everything created by the Valar becomes his only major purpose. In the end, he will be captured in his fortress, Utumno, judged, and sentenced to imprisonment for a long period of time. Upon retrial, he is released due to his crafty words. Here we recognize his main ability: to deceive through the power of words—an evil type of artistry that will also characterize his main accomplices.
Released, he continues his work of destruction, eventually using the giant spider Ungoliant to poison the two trees of Valinor. The Silmarils, created to preserve the light of the two trees, are stolen by him and hidden in the fortress called Angband. Although in the end, he will be permanently exiled beyond the world into the Timeless Void, from there he will continue, through his servants, to corrupt all that is good and beautiful. In some of Tolkien’s unpublished texts, there is mention of Morgoth’s return to the world, which will trigger a final, decisive battle of great proportions, similar to the last confrontation with the dragon—the Armageddon—mentioned in chapter 16 of the Apocalypse. Beyond all the details concerning Melkor, his shadow will be permanently felt in the evils that befall Middle-Earth, which he enviously seeks to compromise. Without a doubt, he represents the literary embodiment of the fallen angel, Lucifer, in Tolkien’s writings. In fact, Tolkien himself establishes this connection in a note provided in his review by W.H. Auden: “Satan fell. In my myth Morgoth fell before Creation of the physical world.”
A well-known malevolent character to readers of The Lord of the Rings is Sauron. A feared wizard capable of changing his appearance, and a necromancer, he is characterized by power and cruelty. His relationship with Melkor is evident from how he is described in The Silmarillion, as a near-perfect replication of the latter. He succeeds in deceiving the elves, whom he then teaches to forge the Rings of Power. All who wear these devices of slavery are transformed into fearsome specters under his dominion, controlled by the One Ring which Sauron forged for himself in the fires of Mount Doom. After his plans are exposed, the united elves and men confront him in the Battle of Dagorlad. Although Gil-Galad and Elendil are defeated, the son of the latter, Isildur, manages to cut off Sauron’s finger bearing the One Ring. It was the last time that this corrupted Maia would take a physical form.
After centuries, he will appear once again in the tumultuous history of Middle-Earth under the form of the Great Eye, whose mere gaze will bring so much suffering to Frodo Baggins. The latter, though lacking heroic qualities, will overcome him by destroying the ring that contains his malevolent power. Cruel in his strength, Sauron seeks to assert himself through military force. He does not hesitate to use torture against his adversaries, extracting from Gollum the testimony that would lead his henchmen, the Nazgul, straight to the Shire. His characteristics are entirely opposed to goodness, humility, and gentleness, making him a significant representative of the powers of darkness. Additionally, he can be likened to the first of the two beasts from the Apocalypse, which, after being fatally wounded, will be supported by the second one. This likeness becomes evident only after we briefly review the traits of one of the most interesting evil characters in Middle-Earth, Saruman.
Head of the Council of the Wise, Saruman is characterized by a curiosity that will prove to be fatal. This curiosity will be stimulated by the discovery of one of the seven palantíri, the Stone of Orthanc, endowed with special powers that allow long-distance communication. Using it, Saruman will come under the influence of Sauron, who reveals to him only images showcasing his own military strength, making him appear invincible. Similar to Denethor, who falls into despair due to the images shown to him by the necromancer, leading him to believe that any resistance is futile, Saruman will come to regard Sauron as undefeatable. The only alternative he deems worthy is to become a minister of Sauron, eager to enjoy a share of his master’s power. Gandalf will be the last to try to disenchant him, telling him that the creator of the One Ring shares power with no one. Disregarding this advice, Saruman descends down the path of his own destruction. In the end, he is killed by his own acolyte, Grima Wormtongue. Thus, he pays the price for his own curiosity. What makes him remarkable, however, is his transformation from a leader whose counsel was sought even by Gandalf himself into a servile instrument of darkness.
More than anything else, Saruman’s curiosity about Sauron’s dark arts, coupled with a certain vanity born from being a renowned sage, contributes to his downfall. Further, his attachment to mechanical arts and his loss of love for organic life, represented by the Fangorn Forest which he destroys, lead to what Christian spiritual masters call sklerokardia—the hardening of the heart. Last, but not least, an intense desire for power awakens in him, driving him to covet the One Ring and build his own army. All of these events unfold progressively, marking a change in his colors: from his white robe, Saruman transitions to a robe in the colors of the rainbow, symbolizing his descent from simple and unified wisdom to power-thirsty knowledge, ready to dissect things for the sole purpose of possessing them. Influenced by his experience of the two world wars, Tolkien’s profound skepticism towards a knowledge that serves the desire for power rather than the well-being of one’s neighbor is encoded here.
One final detail shows the similarity between Saruman and the second beast, rising from the earth, described in the Apocalypse. The Lord of Orthanc possesses the ability to deceive through the power of a voice that wields great influence over the weak. Relying on this ability, the second beast, though having the voice of a dragon, leads many to worship the first beast (Apoc. 13: 12). Using the same satanic power of persuasion, Saruman attempts to convince even Gandalf to become Sauron’s servant. Again, when he is already a prisoner in his own tower after the assault by the Ents, he uses his voice to seek mercy. Paradoxically, his dragon-like voice is not hoarse and thunderous, but sweet and persuasive, like the voice that led to Eve’s fall in Paradise.
The writer, the allegory, and the end of times
It is well known thatTolkien rejected the very concept of allegory. In view of this, one would justly ask whether the interpretation I have proposed contradicts the author’s fundamental intention. To respond, I will recall a single biographical episode that, in my opinion, holds a particular significance.
On March 28, 1958, Tolkien participated in a ‘Hobbit Dinner’ organized by his Dutch editor, Het Spectrum, and a local librarian. Documented in Humphrey Carpenter’s definitive biography, the conclusion of the speech given on this occasion was memorable: “I look East, West, North, South, and I do not see Sauron; but I see that Saruman has many descendants. We Hobbits have against them no magic weapons. Yet, my gentle Hobbits, I give you this toast: To the Hobbits. May they outlast the Sarumans and see spring again in the trees.”
Filled with a healthy Hobbit-like humor, Tolkien’s words contain something profound: an allegorical reading of the present. Just like ancient interpretations that identified the beasts in the Apocalypse with contemporary Roman emperors like Nero, Tolkien’s speech links his own characters to the contemporary setting. When he says, for example, that he sees no Sauron, this means that no cruel and violent tyrant is currently in action. However, when it comes to Saruman’s descendants, here we are dealing with false prophets spreading the dominant ideologies of the modern world, with which Tolkien was not friendly.
A meditation on key figures from sacred texts in a work of fiction is by no means something that yields an absolutely certain and clear outcome, with the precision of a mathematical demonstration. Moreover, as I have already shown, the author’s readings and personal interests are certainly present in the hidden background of his texts. Marked by historical events of such magnitude as the two world wars, Tolkien and other Christian intellectuals of his day grappled with profound questions about the fate of the world. As the young Joseph Ratzinger stated in the introduction to his habilitation thesis, The Theology of History in St. Bonaventure, “it is above all at times of greatest crisis in human history that we find men concerned with the theology and the philosophy of history.” In other words, when the world is in turmoil, the wise begin to fervently examine the prophecies of Daniel and the Apocalypse of Saint John. We do this even now, just as Tolkien did in his time. Indeed, I believe he did even more: the tragic story of Saruman “the White,” the head of the Council of the Wise, is likely a fulfilled prophecy.
