Saturday, May 16, 2026

An Unexpected Gift

    Thursday’s class brought forward death and tried to make sense of it as a gift and in connection to love. I think that we can use the questions and examples presented by Tolkien’s elves to help understand the love in human death from a Christian perspective. Conveniently, I have recently been spending a lot of time meditating on St. Thérèse of Lisieux's thoughts on death, specifically, her acceptance of it. Day 8 of her Novena focuses on this theme and directs our attention to the Catechism's statement about death, which describes that in “departure" which is death the soul is separated from the body” (Catholic Church 1005). St. Therese finds comfort in this, reflecting, “well, I have no fear of a separation which will unite me forever with the good God” (“The “Little Flower” Novena”). Thinking about death by focusing on a separation, a subsequent gain, and finally a unification rather than a complete loss greatly helps explain why death is a gift, yet it is easy to remain unconvinced that this gift could outweigh the loss of everything known. However, the Catechism states, this is only a temporary separation which will be undone at the end of times when souls are brought back to their bodies. This reversal, I believe, helps validate Finrod’s point in Morgoth's Ring: the later Silmarillion, part 1, the legends of Aman, which argues that “the separation of fëa and hröa is ‘unnatural’” (Tolkien 330). In both the cases of The Fall and the ‘Marrying of Arda’, the soul’s separation was unprecedented and only a result of these disruptions. However, what is unnatural is not always wrong, and this separation should not be seen as a way to cast negativity onto humans’ new existence. Andreth uses the separation of body and soul as an argument for disharmony in Man, stating that this means “his parts would not be united by love” (317) and furthermore that the body is an “imposition indeed, not a gift” (317). Well, if these bodies are a hindrance rather than a gift, it seems quite easy to understand why death would then be a gift. A release from the disharmony of our clashing body and soul, unnatural to the ground we walk on and live on. Except that is certainly not what it feels like. The love experienced through flesh, the warm sun, the shade of a tree, a sip of water, a hug from a friend, and so much more. All these experiences are examples of love experienced through the unification of body and soul, so love must exist in the union as well. The body is a gift that allows connection to all of its related creations. “The Word became flesh and made his dwelling among us” (John 1:14). Even Jesus Himself came to Earth in a body with a soul, which He describes as in anguish before His death, as noted in John 12:27 and Matthew 26:38. When He dies, His body is left behind, and when He returns, His body is regained. It is made abundantly clear by Thomas’s touch of Jesus that Jesus returned to His flesh, but why would He do so if the body was a true imposition? The body is a blessing that allows him to touch and interact in a way that the soul alone could not provide. Jesus’s time physically on Earth demonstrates the love held in a body through the love He gives. We can look to His human example to understand the love that unites body and soul. 

    The body is a gift to experience love. But how, then, can death be a gift as well? I think now is a good time to turn to Lúthien and Beren and the unique death that accompanies their love. The union of Lúthien and Beren, along with that of any elf-human couple, requires a choice not necessary between couples of the same being. The elf must give up their immortality to fully experience love and thus receive the gift of death. In this case, though the sacrifice is great, we can see death more clearly as a gift because it allows for such a powerful union. In Book 1 of The Lord of the Rings, when Aaragorn tells the tale of Beren and Lúthien to the company, he says that after Beren died, Lúthien chose “to die from the world, so that she might follow him… together they passed” (Tolkien 189). I think what is to be emphasized in this story is that their union is most emphasized in their death. At least in this telling, though Beren and Lúthien share this tale, they are only described as “together” during their death. Only death was able to unite them, and is that not the greatest gift? To be united with what is loved most. The cost is what we know, but the reward remains to be fully understood, and there lies the struggle. The elves who chose mortality realized the value in death, which is love. 

    Yes, death is a separation, but it also ends the separation between life and the greatest love. Furthermore, the separation of the body and soul will come to an end, and our current loss will be regained. What seems unnatural about death is remedied by all it provides, but earthly mystery makes the gift unclear, wrapped in a package most easily opened at our own death. However, it is not impossible to open the package while living by practicing faith and becoming closer to God; Arwen, Lúthien, and others, for example, were able to see the gift of the love they sacrificed for. While the love they departed for was more visible than the love between God and humans (in the sense that they were able to physically see their partner), there was still a great unknown in leaving the rest of their life behind. We can look to these elves as examples in our own experiences of death as a reminder to trust in the love that awaits.


-AHW


No comments: