Just
a few verses past the familiar opening lines of Genesis, the scriptures waste
no time before revealing the horrors wrought by a free will freely given to
evil. First, Adam and Eve are cast from the garden, yet that story is so
thoroughly worn-out that it can strike us ironically as idyllic or perhaps
inevitable (as our discussion sought to draw out). For the sake of this post, my interest in Tolkien’s
inflection of scriptural tones looks to the dialogue of the next chapter
of Genesis, wherein scripture turns its eye toward the two sons of the first
human beings. In this second vision of man’s first evil, the darkness that
rests within man’s reach is put on fuller display, and it seems to me that this
tale deserves a place in our consideration of the machinations of Tolkien’s
creation story. Cain murders his brother Abel without precedent, and this story
strikes a chord with Tolkien such that it mythically appears with greater
resonance in a later tale of The
Simarillion, yet it is the ambiguous question of agency that I found reappeared in the Ainulindale.
The
inevitability of evil guided much of our later discussion on Wednesday, so in
the following post I want to draw attention to another use of agency in Music
as the mode of Creation. By focusing on God’s words to Cain in Genesis 4, I
hope to note the heights to which Tolkien lifts the agency of the Creation
in determining its own shape – perhaps lifting the will of the created to a
summit higher than a Christian might generally feel comfortable.
In
Genesis 4, God speaks to Cain to console him after the Lord expresses greater appreciation
for the sacrifice of Abel. Famously (and of great interest in John Steinbeck’s East of Eden) God tells Cain that sin is
waiting to devour him, but that Cain “may/must/can/shall rule over it” (Gen.
4:7, translation intentionally ambiguous). Steinbeck’s novel explores the
difficulty of the Hebrew term “Timshel”
that has been translated, “may rule over it” or “can rule over it” which each
connote potency but that this scriptural term may also connote Cain’s charge
that he “must rule over [sin].” While it is the scriptures in other places that
shine greater light on the limits and power of free will, this version of the
creation story emphasizes the power of each will – it can rule over sin,
and perhaps it must, but it certainly may – and the role that the will of man
has in shaping his destiny.
In class, it seemed that
our comments revolved around the origin of sin, but we did not push very deeply
into the gravity of the faculty that makes discord a possibility much less a
reality. Both in Christian scripture and in the Ainulindale,
was it the will of the Almighty that discord come into being? In what sense is
this will active, or is this a passive permission for the privation of good? Such
were our questions, and while these questions are of interest for their mystery,
the limits to which Tolkien stretches the role of the will among the Ainur
caught me as far more scandalous than the retold, eternal mystery of the first
rebellion. For it is on this point – the role of the agency and work of the
Created in forming Creation – that Tolkien seems to depart, at least
superficially, from Christian theology and makes use once more of his
conviction that the created creates with the pleasure of the Creator.
To summarize the Creation myth
as it appears in the Bible, with attention to the role of speech and song: God
makes by the Word, the Creation praises. Full stop. This two-part story takes on curves
and clarifications when the scriptures are rightfully read in the whole, such
as the role of God’s perfect Word in bringing all things into being as told by
John and the primordial role of praise among the created angels of God as in
Jubilees, but nevertheless this is the clear division of the cosmogony as told
by Scripture. God creates all according to His Mind, and the Creation sings
according to its glories. Tolkien’s version, however, introduces an agency
within this process that strikes me as innovative if not in a subtle manner at
dissonance with this explanation of Who does the creating, and who does the
singing.
The Ainulindale begins,
as does the Christian myth, with the Transcendent All-Father. Where the
Christian tradition beholds this Godhead in eternal, triune relation, Tolkien’s
deity retains the confused unitarianism of the scriptures without the
revelation of Christ. This aside, Eru proceeds to create the Ainur. These beings
– definitely created, prime as they may be – learn from the speech of Eru that
which they sing at the foot of His throne. Among Tolkien’s varying accounts of the Ainulindale, the order
and manner of the following plot development varies a bit, but they agree that
the Music of the Ainur is then made real,
Ea!-ed into being by Eru. It is not Eru’s thought or Word (as the intellect of
Eru from which the Ainur proceed might be understood as a mythological Logos)
that model the cosmos, but the song of the Ainur as freely sung in the presence
of Eru before there even was. The
sons of God, in Jubilees and Job, are depicted singing praises in the
immemorial age gone by, this is true, yet their song has no agency in
determining the shape of the creation. There is no Timshel to be given to them as warning or charge, because their songs of praise are
reflective rather than prescriptive.
In the Scriptures, the
warning of Timshel belongs to man,
and only then after Creation takes place, yet Tolkien folds agency back into the
Creation itself with the audacity of an author convinced that sub-creating is
simply the highest calling of the Creation. The Ainur do perfectly that which
Tolkien does literarily, and Melkor brings about a Felix Culpa before there is even an apple to be eaten. Genesis places
Adam’s sin on the scale of divine justice, but Tolkien blames the Evil One for the
horror of frost and the wonder of a snowflake in a world in tension. Fuller implications for this shift might be sketched out, but at the very least this seems to continue our interest in Tolkien's notion of sub-creation as well as his ordering of the cosmic hierarchy and the relative agency of each strata therein.
- WK
1 comment:
Perhaps there is an answer in the fact that the Ainulindale is *not* the story of Creation known by or told by Men, but that told by the Valar to the Elves, thus no word of the Word. And yet, Tolkien was all about words! It is a mystery from this perspective why he privileged music over language in imagining what story the Elves would have heard from the Valar. Is it that the Elves misunderstood? Or that Moses heard a different story altogether? RLFB
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