Poets for the Kingdom: The Sacramental Writings of Tolkien and Lewis

I recently attended a week-long conference through the Theology of the Body Institute, titled "Poets for the Kingdom: The Sacramental Writings of Tolkien and Lewis".

 

The "Theology of the Body" is a term and teaching that comes from Pope St. John Paul II, and it's about seeing how God teaches us about Himself and His plan for creation through our own bodies, through nature, and through everything He created in the natural world. The Theology of the Body Institute was founded by Christopher West to spread these teachings through various graduate-level week-long courses, as well as numerous other resources such as books, videos, and speaking events. I attended my first conference through the Institute earlier this year and had such an incredible experience that now I plan to just keep going back.

 

"Poets for the Kingdom" is their newest course, and I feel quite privileged to have been able to attend the inaugural session. We spent five glorious days nerding out about Middle Earth, Narnia, Catholic Theology, and the value of beauty, nature, and good stories. And we couldn't have asked for a more beautiful setting or time of year, as we were at a retreat center in Pennsylvania, set in the heart of woods that seemed on fire with fall colors, a true testament to God's love of beauty. Even the retreat center's kitchen staff were nerding out with us, and every meal was comprised of recipes from either a Middle Earth or Narnia themed cookbook. We definitely ate like fat happy Hobbits the entire week, and not the least because of the good conversations that happened at every meal and the roaring fireplace that we were welcome to retire to when the meal was over.

 

The writings of J.R.R. Tolkien and C.S. Lewis have been foundational to my life in so many ways. Some of my very earliest memories are of my father reading us The Hobbit at night and of my mother borrowing the old BBC Narnia videos from the library. My siblings and I grew up playing in the fields and woods of our Michigan home and I always pretended at being a Hobbit, with a little 'tavern' where I would bring out snacks when my siblings needed refreshment from their much more exciting adventures (I was always content to wait in my own little space while they were off exploring). As the youngest of four, and the quietest and dreamiest, I've always had a fondness for Lucy Pevensie from the Narnia stories and wished that I might one day find a faun friend of my own wandering about the woods. Snowy landscapes to this day still make me feel like I am in Narnia, just waiting for Aslan's arrival to bring the spring.

 

There's never been a time in my life when I didn't know who Bilbo and Smaug were, or Aslan and Mr. Tumnus and the Pevensie children. My imagination was nourished on those stories from the beginning.

 

I was around ten or eleven when I first read The Lord of the Rings for myself, and I'm grateful that I did so years before the Peter Jackson movies were even teased. There's nothing like experiencing such a story within the intimacy of a book, especially for the first time, rather than through the lens of someone else's interpretation. Granted, I highly enjoy the Peter Jackson movies, but I naturally have my critiques and my own vision and impressions of certain characters and moments. I think it was sometime during my late teens that I read The Silmarillion for the first time, Tolkien's history of Middle Earth which was published posthumously from all his notes collected by his son, Christopher. I already loved Greek, Roman, and Norse mythologies and other tales out of folklore, so Tolkien's legendarium was just more of a theme that I was already drawn to, though it had a more mature depth which my adolescent mind was craving but couldn't yet articulate.

 

All this to say that the worlds and stories of Middle Earth and Narnia were firmly entrenched in my heart and mind long before I found my way to the Catholic Church or even to Christianity. I don't think I'd ever opened a Bible until I was well into through my twenties and I certainly didn't know any of the Judeo-Christian stories beyond a passing knowledge from general culture. I'd never really thought much about God or where the world came from or how we were supposed to live or where we would eventually end up. But when I started to learn about the Faith, when I began reading the Bible stories and what the Church taught, it all felt strikingly familiar. One of the first Bible stories I fell in love with was the Creation story as described in Genesis, because I could recognize the beautifully haunting quality of the creation myth in The Silmarillion that I had read a decade before. As I began to learn about Jesus, I felt I already knew Him because Aslan had always been such a part of my life and imagination. At the very beginning of my Christian faith, even my concept of heaven was formed by the visions of Narnia, of going "further up and further in" as described in the final book, The Last Battle. When I wanted to learn more about what it meant to be a Christian, I turned to the apologetic writings of C.S. Lewis before I read anyone else, because I felt he was already an old friend that I could trust. Just as my developing imagination had been nourished on Narnia as a child, so my Christian faith early on was nourished on Lewis' books, such as The Screwtape Letters, The Great Divorce, and eventually Til We Have Faces.

 

Reflecting on all of this has emphasized to me more than ever the importance of stories, of goodness and beauty in our art and imaginations. It took me 25 years to even begin the conscious search for God, but I had been unconsciously searching for Him my entire life before that, and the truth is that I had actually found Him many times in the books and movies and myths that I was so attracted to and fed on. It's given me a new appreciation, not only for the old stories but for the importance of new stories as well. There are a lot of new stories out there that aren't worth anything, and these days it seems there's a glut of new movies and books and TV shows constantly being released and so little of value is actually being offered. But this is also a sign of how hungry we all are for good stories; so hungry that we'll consume just about anything that is offered to us. But we shouldn't settle for the junk. The classics are all there, still satisfying and delightful and crying out to be read. And we should be fostering and encouraging the imaginations of new artists and supporting them in their efforts, no matter how small.

 

I've been trying to rededicate myself to my own work recently and it was such a gift to spend a whole week reveling in my two favorite authors. I pray that their inspirations will continue to work through me and carry me forward, so that one day my own stories will be able to touch others and further God's beauty and love.