Living in the North Country, Boundary Effects is a blog by Austin Jantzi. Though a physicist, I write mostly about books, sometimes about music, but generally about whatever I find interesting.

Returning to the Silmarillion

Returning to the Silmarillion

In order to prepare for The Rings of Power and House of the Dragon, I had to read Blood and Fire by George RR Martin and reread the Silmarillion by JRR Tolkien. While both books tell the history of their respective series, they’re very different. Martin’s book is a transcribed history book, written by a Maester, a scholar in his fictional universe. It is, above all, concerned with politics and generally interprets the causes of events through the plans and schemes of kings and queens, nobles and knights. The gods, both the Old Gods the northerners pray to before the white and red faces of ancient Weirwood trees and the New Gods, the Seven of the south, are mentioned by the Maester, but they play no role in the history, despite the efficacy of magic in Westeros. Other gods, such as the Drowned Gods, R’hllor - the Lord of Light, and the Great Other, which are some of my favorite aspects of A Song of Ice and Fire, are referenced even less. Conversely, The Silmarillion is little concerned with the details of history and cares nothing for politics. It is a primordial prequel of myths, origins, and heroes. The gods, the Valar, are servants of Illuvatar, the One - creator of all that is. The Valar dwell on a towering mountain, and their actions are intimately tied to the lives of Men and Elves, the Children of Illuvatar. Melkor, a fallen Vala called Morgoth, hates and wages war on Elves and Men. The other Valar work to oppose and overthrow Morgoth, aiding the Children of Illuvatar. Reading the two books simultaneously brought together a thought I’ve been trying to say for a long time: we become who we believe our gods to be.

A quick note on terminology: God and gods are distinct. By God I mean the One through whom all things are made and have their being. “All things” includes everything from gods to reality itself. God is the Source and nothing exists apart from God. Yahweh is not a god, but God. Plato’s God is not a god, but God. In some traditions, Brahman is not a god, but God. There cannot be more than one God, but there can be many names, and many ways to understand the nature of God. And God does not necessarily exclude the existence of gods, powerful and often immortal beings. Even St. Augustine considers both the Roman gods and the Christian God in the City of God. No matter how powerful, there is still an infinite degree of difference between God and gods; God is not God by virtue of being the most powerful being in existence; God is the root of and transcendent of existence. 

The world of Fire and Blood is full of gods. The Faith of the Seven affirms one God with seven facets. It’s based on the Medieval Roman Catholic Church and the Seven is similar to the Trinity. However, it is unclear if the Seven exists in any meaningful way, especially compared to the gods who play an active role in Westeros and Essos. Through the power of R'hllor, Lord Beric Dondarrion, Lady Catelyn Stark, and (likely) Jon Snow are brought back from the dead. Priests of R'hllor see true visions of the future in the flames. The Drowned Gods seem to resurrect Patchface as a bizarre water-zombie who knows the future. Bran Stark seems to become the Old Gods, transcending time and space, hearing the prayers whispered before the Weirwoods. The Great Other, the enemy of R’hllor, raises the dead as ice-zombies. The Seven is unlike the other gods, but that might be for the best. The gods of a Song of Ice and Fire are brutal. They answer not to prayers but to blood and human sacrifice. Craster sacrifices his sons to the Others, so that his household might be spared. Stannis Baratheon burns his daughter so R’hllor will bring an end to a blizzard, and R’hllor answers. Bran Stark consumes human flesh before he ascends to godhood. The gods respond to spilt blood with power and violence on behalf of their supplicants. And the people of Westeros are as brutal and bloodthirsty as their gods. The books and TV show are characterized by and notorious for their violence: graphic, sexual, and unrelenting. Eddard Stark is compassionate and noble and those very things lead to his execution. Those who survive are merciless. It is something to celebrate when Sansa and Arya, two young girls, plot against and kill Petyr Baelish, who himself thrived as long as he did by assassination and starting war. The words of House Targaryen are the worlds of Westeros: Fire and Blood.

In the Iliad, Achilles is as lazy, lusty, and lethal as Zeus. Agamemnon sacrificed his daughter, Iphigenia, to win a favorable wind and the gods saw the red blood and the king’s fleet sailed to spill Trojan blood. In the Northman, based on the Viking legend which inspired Hamlet, Amleth vows to avenge his father, rescue his mother, and kill his uncle. Nothing stops his quest for vengeance, not his lover and unborn child and not the fact that his mother wants no rescue. Amleth kills and is killed by his uncle in a lake of fire, and the Norse Gods, who are constantly at war, send a Valkyrie to bring Amleth to the eternal front lines of Valhalla. They become who they believe their gods to be. 

While there is violence and war and bloody death in the Silmarillion, Tolkien’s world has a different sort of God. Illuvatar is characterized by taking what Morgoth means for evil and using it to create new wonders. The Vala Manwe, ruler of the air, and Ulmo, ruler of the waters, are furious with Morgoth for bringing forth burning heat and bitter cold. But Illuvatar shows Ulmo that water, when exposed to bitter cold, produces the crystalline beauty of ice, and the pure majesty of fallen snow. And when exposed to burning heat, water turns to steam and forms clouds and falls as melodious rain, joining the worlds of Manwe and Ulmo. And the heroes of the Lord of the Rings are different from Martin’s and Homer’s. They are not warriors like Jamie and Achilles. They are not canny schemers like Odysseus and Tyrion. They’re hobbits of the Shire. Small, lovers of peace, good earth, and good food. They refuse to wield the weapon of the enemy. They have pity on sad and broken creatures. Gandalf, a servant of Manwe, later tells Frodo that the pity of his uncle Bilbo “may rule the fates of many.” And it does. This is what makes Tolkien’s world different. While they are liabilities in a Song of Ice and Fire, in Middle Earth pity and love change the world for the better. Like the God Illuvatar, the hobbits can see that though the world is full of darkness and danger, and so much bad has happened, “But in the end, it's only a passing thing this shadow, even darkness must pass. A new day will come, and when the sun shines, it'll shine out the clearer.”

We become who we believe our gods to be, just as the Greek heroes became like Zeus, the Norse heroes became like Thor, Stannis became like R’hllor, and Bilbo became like Illuvatar. The heroes of the church, saints and martyrs, become like Jesus and follow the way of the cross. So who do I believe my God to be? Because it seems that understanding will determine who I am. If God is mercy, I will be merciful. If God is a judge of sinners, I will judge sinners. If God is just, I will seek justice. And if God is a tool for political power, I will become a tool for political power. I wonder if it’s true that if I believe that God is nothing but a deep emptiness I will become deep emptiness. And if God is the fullness of all His attributes and at the same time mysteriously transcends them all, what will I become? When God declares his Name to Moses He says, “The Lord, the Lord, a God merciful and gracious, slow to anger, and abounding in steadfast love and faithfulness.” That is what I believe, may it be who I become.

Turkeys in Boston

Turkeys in Boston

Returning to Gilead

Returning to Gilead