Greg Hartley

This chapter argues that the publication of The Hobbit, prior to the publication of any other works in the Legendarium, created a series of continuity challenges for Tolkien regarding the spiritual state of his non-human characters. The Cockney trolls, boulder-tossing giants, social goblins, and anthropomorphized beasts found within The Hobbit all run contrary to Tolkien’s later ideals of how Ilúvatar structured the lives and moralities of the races of Middle-earth. Unlike the more bestial trolls and orcs of The Lord of the Rings, The Hobbit incorporates a “civilized” race of goblins, replete with an apparently independent king, a developed culture, and autonomous self-awareness. Similarly, a fairly diverse cast of talking animal characters lends The Hobbit an almost Narnian feel, a tone very distinct from the rest of Tolkien’s works (Tolkien, Letters 42).  The Lord of the Eagles wears an incongruous golden crown, and the spiders of Mirkwood banter humorously and are offended by bad poetry, all in sharp contrast to the eagles and spiders of LOTR and The Silmarillion. The chapter asserts that these contrasts caused Tolkien considerable trouble in the years after The Hobbit was published. Tolkien’s three races of sentient, created beings (Elves, Men, and Dwarves) each have their own cosmology and eschatology, designed by Tolkien as distinct threads in the fabric of Arda. Talking animals and civilized orcs simply did not fit Tolkien’s theological hierarchy, and, as a result, Tolkien struggled mightily to harmonize creatures of The Hobbit with the rest of the Legendarium. The chapter will conclude that these theological difficulties lead directly to some of Tolkien’s most popular and fascinating origin tales, such the explanation offered in The Silmarillion that orcs were initially elves captured and twisted by Morgoth or that the Great Eagles might actually be immortal maiar in disguise (Sil 50). It will be seen that Tolkien’s late concern for absolute continuity and theological correctness caused these harmless, apparently throwaway components of The Hobbit to contribute to the rich cosmological textures of the greater Legendarium.

Explorations of Tolkien's latent theology abound, but very little focused scholarship proposes to discuss how Tolkien's legendari-um portrays an understanding of the Holy Spirit, especially in light of Tolkien's Roman Catholicism. This essay explores three major features of Tolkien's work that provide insight into this ghostly person of the Trinity. The Silmarillion provides detailed insight as to the exact identity of the " Flame Imperishable, " while its characters demonstrate the indwelling of this Flame. St. Paul explains the gifts of the Holy Spirit in his first letter to the Corinthians and Tolkien seems to mimic many of these gifts in the characters of the nine members of the Fellowship. Lastly, the Great Eagles represent the workings of the Holy Spirit, both as servants of Manwë and as agents of eucatastrophe.

For years, critics and fans of C. S. Lewis have noted his curious attentiveness to descriptions of food and scenes of eating. Some attempts have been made to interpret Lewis’s use of food, but never in a manner comprehensively unifying Lewis’s culinary expressions with his own thought and beliefs. My study seeks to fill this void. The introduction demonstrates how Lewis’s culinary language aggregates through elements of his life, his literary background, and his Judeo-Christian worldview. Using the grammar of his own culinary language, I examine Lewis’s fiction for patterns found within his meals and analyze these patterns for theological allusions, grouping them according to major categories of systematic theology. Chapter two argues that ecclesiastical themes appear whenever Lewis’s protagonists eat together. The ritualized meal progression, evangelistic discourse, and biographical menus create a unity that points to parallels between Lewis’s body of protagonists and the church. Chapter three focuses on the sacrament of the Lord’s Supper and charges that Lewis’s meals which are eaten in the presence of the novel’s Christ figure or which include bread and wine in the menu reliably align with the Anglo-Catholic doctrine of the Eucharist. Chapter four studies how sinful eating affects the spiritual states of Lewis’s characters. The chapter first shows how Lewis’s culinary language draws from Edenic sources, resonating with a very gastronomic Fall of Humanity, then examines how the progressively sinful eating of certain characters signifies a gradual alienation from the Divine. The fifth, and concluding, chapter argues that Lewis’s portrayal of culinary desire and pleasure ultimately points to an eschatological theme. This theme culminates near the end of Lewis’s novels either through individual characters expressing superlative delight in their food or through a unified congregation of protagonists eating a celebratory feast during the novel’s dénouement. I close the study by emphasizing how this approach to Lewis’s meals offers a complete spiritual analysis of Lewis’s main characters that also consistently supports Lewis’s own theology.

Nearly any film using the word "Christian" as an adjective will permanently suffer from what I call the Christian Film paradox. We can have exciting, big-budget films, and we can have doctrinally sound films, but we can't have both. Exceptions to this rule are so rare that they practically prove the point.

What warrants a special study of The Faerie Queene and Paradise Lost via Lewis’s writings is more than just the influential nature of Lewis’s critical contributions.  Both books profoundly affected Lewis on all three levels, a feat which few of Lewis’s other favorites can boast.  This study will examine both texts from all three levels, with special attention to Lewis’s critical output on The Faerie Queene and his creative output inspired by Paradise Lost.