The Pity of Bilbo (Matthew 5:38-48)

About a month ago, I was immersed in the world of Lord of the Rings.  I had read the first book of the trilogy, by J.R.R. Tolkien, many years ago.  And I saw the first movie in the theater when it came out. 

The one thing I remember about both is that they were very long.

I watched most of the second movie on DVD, but fell asleep toward the end.

I never did get around to watching the third movie.

But about a month ago, I promised Ethan that I would find the time to sit with him and watch all three movies, which he had got as a gift. 

These weren’t just any DVDs however.  They featured the extended director’s cut of each movie, which made these exceptionally long films even longer.

We’re talking a major time commitment here.

But I was committed.  I grabbed some tea to stay awake, and Ethan pressed play, and we were off.

We didn’t watch them all at once.  In fact, I think the first of the three movies alone required three sittings.  Who could possibly sit through all three movies at once?  I can’t even sit through a 20 minute sermon. 

That’s why I stand.  You should try it some time.

It took about two weeks for me to watch all three movies of the trilogy.

And then I remembered something else from my first attempt to watch the trilogy:  I really don’t like Gollum. 

I don’t like the scenes he’s in.  I don’t like his voice.  I find him annoying and repulsive.

For those of you unfamiliar with Lord of the Rings, Gollum looks and sounds a little like a house elf from Harry Potter, but with a somewhat sick and demented twist.  Since I stayed awake this time, I was surprised to discover that he is actually a hobbit, much like Frodo – somehow I had missed that or had forgotten it – but over many years his form and nature had been corrupted by the ring of power he found, until he barely resembled his former self. 

Gollum had the ring for many, many years, until it was taken from him by Frodo’s Uncle Bilbo.  Gollum tried to kill Bilbo to get the ring back, but was unable to.  Eventually, the ring passed into Frodo’s possession, and Gollum continued searching for his precious ring, and was willing to kill anyone who would stand in his way.

So he’s not exactly a character that evoked much sympathy or pity from me. 

Perhaps if I had read the other two books in the trilogy… Yet that would be an even greater undertaking than sitting through the movies.  Ralph C. Wood, professor of theology and literature (a great combination, theology and literature) at Baylor University, says his students often tell him that reading The Lord of the Rings is the largest mental accomplishment of their lives.

I’m not sure I’m ready for that.  Then again, Professor Wood points out that the books contain “so many layers of moral and religious richness that readers who first encounter Tolkien at age eight will still be reading him at age eighty.”

So maybe reading the rest of the trilogy is something I should put on my to-do list.

According to Professor Wood, Gollum was simply overwhelmed by the coercive power of evil that dwelled in the ring.  In fact, as you may know, the power of evil in the ring is so powerful, that the entire trilogy is about Frodo’s quest to destroy the ring, which can only be done by tossing the ring into the burning fires of Mount Doom.

On his way to Mount Doom, Frodo and his companion Sam encounter Gollum, who agrees to show them the way to Mount Doom.  Sam doesn’t trust Gollum, and is certain that they’d be better off without him.  Frodo doesn’t completely trust Gollum either, but feels that they need Gollum, and perhaps there is some good left in Gollum despite the many years of corruption that the ring’s power had had on him.  So Frodo keeps Sam from killing Gollum.

Of course, early on, when Frodo heard the story about Gollum and the ring but before he had actually met Gollum, Frodo himself wished that Gollum had been killed.  Frodo said to Gandalf:  “What a pity that [uncle] Bilbo did not stab that vile creature when he had a chance!”

Watching the movie, I agreed with Frodo.

But Gandalf said:  “Pity?  It was Pity that stayed his hand.  Pity, and Mercy: not to strike without need.  And he has been well rewarded, Frodo.  Be sure that Bilbo took so little hurt from the evil, and escaped in the end, because he began his ownership of the Ring so.  With Pity.”

“I am sorry,” said Frodo. “But I am frightened; and I do not feel any pity for Gollum.”

“You have not seen him,” Gandalf broke in.

“No, and I don’t want to,” said Frodo.  “…Now at any rate he is as bad as an Orc, and just an enemy.  He deserves death.”

Gandalf replied: “Deserves it! I daresay he does.  Many that live deserve death.  And some that die deserve life.  Can you give it to them?  Then do not be too eager to deal out death in judgment.  For even the very wise cannot see all ends.  I have not much hope that Gollum can be cured before he dies, but there is a chance of it.  And he is bound up with the fate of the Ring.  My heart tells me that he has some part to play yet, for good or ill, before the end; and when that comes, the pity of Bilbo may rule the fate of many – yours not least.”

Professor Wood has written a book called The Gospel According to Tolkien, and in it he draws particular attention to this scene, and especially this last statement of Gandalf’s.  “The pity of Bilbo may rule the fate of many.” 

Now, that word “pity” sometimes trips me up.  I think today we might use the word “compassion.”  And compassion really is simply an expression of love.

And the pity of Bilbo – the love and the compassion of Bilbo – is, according to Professor Wood, the key to understanding the entire three-part story of the Lord of the Rings.  It’s so important, that the phrase, “the pity of Bilbo may rule the fate of many” is the only declaration repeated in all three books of the trilogy.

And the pity of Bilbo is, of course, the pity – the love, the compassion – that Bilbo had for Gollum, that annoying, repulsive, despicable, demented creature that I really didn’t want to see filling up the movie screen or the pages of the book.

Until, all of a sudden, it dawned on me:  that is exactly the point.

“You have heard that it was said, ‘You shall love your neighbor and hate your enemy.’”  But I have also heard it said, “Love your enemies.”  Which means to show compassion and kindness and pity, even to those who I find annoying, repulsive, despicable, and demented.

So many times, Frodo’s friend Sam wanted to kill Gollum.  Gollum certainly posed a threat.  No court in the land would convict Sam of anything other than self-defense if he had killed Gollum.  A “stand-your-ground” law wouldn’t even be necessary.  Frodo and Sam would have had just cause if they had killed Gollum.

But Frodo came to understand something.  I don’t know if he could articulate it, or if he was even aware of it.  Maybe the books, when I get to them, will illuminate me on that.  But deep down, at least, in some unconscious level, Frodo came to realize that he and Gollum really weren’t that different.  They were connected, bound together by a common destiny. 

At a deep level, Frodo discovered what all the major religions teach, that we really are one.  We try to divide ourselves into “us” and “them,” but in truth there is no divide.  When I look into the face of another, I see my own reflection. 

When Frodo looked into the face of Gollum, that hideous, ugly face; when he peered deep into Gollum’s large eyes, he saw his own reflection. 

And for that, he could not kill him.

Eventually, Frodo and Gollum reach the fires of Mount Doom.  And at what should have been Frodo’s most triumphant moment, when he flings the ring into the fire and completes his heroic quest… at that moment, the coercive power of the ring overwhelms Frodo, and instead of throwing the ring into the fire to destroy it, he thrusts it onto his own finger.

At this point, Professor Wood refers to Romans 7, which says:  “I do not understand my own actions.  For I do not do what I want, but I do the very thing I hate… I do not do the good I want, but the evil I do not want is what I do.”

And so, at this climactic moment, when we would expect Frodo to demonstrate the ultimate heroism, here, Frodo fails.  At the moment that it mattered most, Frodo fails.  The quest fails.

Sensing that this is his moment, Gollum pounces on Frodo.  The ring, placed on his finger, has made Frodo invisible, but Gollum grabs Frodo before he can get away unseen.  Gollum finds Frodo’s hand and bites off the finger containing the ring; just bites it off!  Having finally gotten the ring he desired, Gollum begins dancing a jig of false joy… and topples into the molten lava, with the ring, which finally is destroyed in the fires of Mount Doom.

Had Gollum not been there… had pity and love not spared his life… the evil ring of power would have continued to infect the lives of all who lived in Middle Earth. 

Frodo was not perfect.  He failed in destroying his ring.  But because of love and pity, the ring was destroyed, and the people of Middle Earth were set free from its evil power.

As Professor Wood points out, this focus on pity, this focus on compassion, is unique to Lord of the Rings… and unique to Christianity.  The Greek world where Christianity matured into a world religion did not value pity.  Pity on those who did not deserve it was considered weakness, a vice.

Agape is love for those who are “other” to us, those who we are inclined to scorn, those who have no love for us.  My first reaction to Gollum was the same as Frodo’s, and the same as Sam’s throughout most of the trilogy:  repulsion.  But Frodo learns to have pity, and in the end, that pity saves him.

And today:  isn’t it just as hard to extend compassion and forgiveness to those who, in our minds, deserve punishment?  Last week, a man in north Long Beach was shot and killed – how are we to respond to the one who pulled the trigger?  How are we to respond to those in our city who enslave young girls into sex trafficking? What about the drunk driver who killed six people a few weeks ago, driving the wrong way on the Pomona Freeway? 

What about the person who just has a way of always getting under our skin, irritating us and annoying us with every comment they make?

What about the soldiers who nailed the son of God to a cross?  Can there be any compassion and forgiveness for them?

Jesus thought so.

But watch just about any Hollywood movie, and you’ll see a definite lack of compassion and forgiveness and pity.  It’s all about vengeance and punitive retribution.  Even the movie version of Lord of the Rings downplays the forgiveness and compassion that are so central to Tolkien’s literature.  Movie-goers want action.  They want epic battle scenes that end in vanquished foes and glorious victory.

But such scenes are noticeably subdued in Tokien’s books.  The battles are described only briefly, and there is evident failure on both sides. 

Instead, the books highlight:  Failure.  Compassion.  Forgiveness.  Redemption.  There are many, many scenes in the Lord of the Rings where this plays out.  It’s as if Tolkien were saying:

“Love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you, so that you may be children of your Father in heaven; for he makes his sun rise on the evil and on the good, and sends rain on the righteous and on the unrighteous.”

And why does God do this?  Because there really isn’t as much difference between “us” and “them” as we like to imagine.  Every one of us is capable of failure.  Every one of us is capable of being overwhelmed by evil. 

But there is also good in every one of us, in every person.  And in the end, because of love, the good will prevail.