History as a Long Defeat — With Bright Spots

In 1956, JRR Tolkien wrote in a letter, “I am a Christian, and indeed a Roman Catholic, so I do not expect ‘history’ to be anything but a “long defeat”—though it contains . . . some samples or glimpses of final victory.” I find myself resonating with that view, though I am not entirely sure whether it is because of my temperament, my theology, or my experience of the world. Or maybe all three. I posted earlier about “Christian realism” and Niebuhr, and these are more thoughts in the same direction.

A few observations about Tolkien’s assertion. First, he refers to “history,” not to the life of individuals. He is not characterizing his life or your life, or any particular life; he is talking about the collective human experience. (So he’s not Eeyore grousing in his Gloomy Place–which I have visited, by the way.)

Second, his view is in keeping with a tragic sense of life and with the Christian notion of the Fall. Shalom is ruptured and things are not the way they’re supposed to be (see Plantinga book of that title). One of the more profoundly naïve statements in recent decades (and I thought so at the time) was the senior George Bush pronouncing at the collapse of the Soviet Union that we were looking at a generation of peace. What? Six billion samplings of human nature on the planet and you think there could EVER be such a thing as a generation of peace?

Third, the phrase “the long defeat” comes from The Lord of the Rings, in which the elf queen Galadriel says, “Through the ages of the world we have fought the long defeat.” It is spoken elegiacally as the elves realize their time in Middle Earth is coming to an end. (If Tolkien got the phrase from somewhere else, please let me know.) These words suggests a number of things to which I am drawn: nobility, honor, courage, perseverance, virtue, realism, tragedy.

But, of course, one must balance this with the “glimpses” and the hope (a stronger word than most realize) of “final victory.” At the risk of sounding insufficiently buoyant, I think even the work of Christ and the empty tomb are only “glimpses” of the final victory. They change everything, but we weren’t there (and those who were didn’t understand), and so we rely on the testimonies and stories and reports from the field of believers from over the centuries, coupling these with the more direct but difficult to delineate experiences with God in our own lives. More importantly, the victory of the cross, while accomplished, is also still being worked out, often amidst pain and suffering.

There is, I believe, a kind of permanent longing in faith (and human nature generally) for that which once was and will one day be again—but is not now. Or at least is not now in a way that fully erases the longing. I am willing to admit that this longing may exist only for some kinds of people. Perhaps it is more temperament and personality than anything else. Perhaps it’s reading too many books.

I hear in my ears the rebuttals to what I am expressing here—everything from Christian happy talk to sober theological pronouncements with phrases like “once and for all.” Many will indeed find Tolkien’s view too Eeyore-ish. In some people’s lives, the glimpses are much more than that—they are an unending Hallelujah Chorus. (That’s the balancing truth.) I love the Hallelujah Chorus but The Messiah also speaks of Jesus as the Man of Sorrows, acquainted with grief. Long defeat, glimpses of victory—we need to feel the weight of both in our lives.