Adam, Gollum, and All of Us

Two natures beat within my breast.  One is cursed; one is blessed.  One I love; one I hate.  The one I feed will dominate.—Anonymous

As the first Adam’s sweat surrounds my face, may the last Adam’s blood my soul embrace.  –Hymn to God, My God, in My Sickness, by John Donne

While watching The Lord of the Rings and The Hobbit film series in recent years, I’ve felt as though Someone has been using the characters and the storylines to open my eyes to things I hadn’t noticed before—to connections I hadn’t previously made.  I feel suddenly aware that the stories contain greater depth than I’d realized.

For the first time, I see the Ring which connects the two films as representing the selfish desires of every character who sees it—in other words, their “flesh.”  They want so badly to get rid of the Ring that destroying it eventually becomes the life mission of The Fellowship.  And yet it’s also an enormous struggle for them not to take hold of it and keep it for themselves.

It’s evident in the ferocious greed that comes over many of the characters’ faces when they gaze upon it.  You can see in their eyes that they would kill for it.  Others just stare at it with an eerie wonder, and in that quiet moment, it’s clear that they’re considering just how much the Ring could do for them… all that it could make them become—how great, how powerful, how much more than they already are.

In The Desolation of Smaug, Gandalf takes note of a subtle shift in Bilbo’s character—one that seems to have stolen that unmistakable air of innocence he once carried.  “You’ve changed…” Gandalf says, eyeing Bilbo as he fidgets with the concealed Ring.  “You’re not the same Hobbit as the one who left the Shire.”¹ 

In the same film, it is the Arkenstone, a dazzling white gem that holds sway over Thorin Oakenshield, the claimant to the Dwarf-kingdom of Erebor.  The closer his company gets to reclaiming the stone, the more stone-hearted he himself becomes, caring more for the heirloom than the lives of his companions, who also warn him, “You’re not yourself.”²  The Dragon guarding the stone is even aware of its sinister influence, telling Bilbo, “I am almost tempted to let you take it.  If only to see Oakenshield suffer.  Watch it destroy him.  Watch it corrupt his heart and drive him mad.”³ 

The Ring has a similar effect upon those who see it.  In The Fellowship of the Ring, Galadriel actually voices what enters her mind when the Ring is freely offered to her, suddenly shifting from serene and ethereal to spectral and scary, shouting in a deep, guttural voice about the terrible but beautiful ruler she could become with the help of the One Ring:

“In the place of a Dark Lord, you would have a queen.  Not dark, but beautiful and terrible as the dawn!  Treacherous as the sea!  Stronger than the foundations of the earth!  All shall love me and despair…”⁴

It frustrates and dismays me to see how fragile they all are…how easily they give in to evil.  How Bilbo lies when given the chance to tell Gandalf about it.  How Frodo keeps taking the Ring out at night to stare at it and trace his finger around its edges.  How he hesitates to toss it into Mount Doom, abandoning the cause at the very last second with the chilling statement, “The Ring is mine.”⁵  I just want to cry along with Sam when he says it, but not out of disappointment in Frodo—out of disappointment in me, because I can see myself doing the same thing.  I understand his weakness.  How weak they all are… Bilbo, Frodo, Galadriel, Gollum…

Yes.  As slimy and loathsome as he is, I can even relate to Gollum.  Especially in the scene from the second film, The Two Towers, where he has a full-fledged falling-out with himself when trying to decide whether to steal the Ring back from Frodo.  As amusing as the scene may be, it paints a pretty accurate picture of the battle that rages within myself sometimes—the all-too-familiar “I do what I don’t want to do” tug-of-war of which I’ve grown so weary.  I know what it feels like to have a clawing, snarling beast inside that I just want to murder and be done with, and yet I submit to it again and again.  Like Gollum, I’ve sobbingly sighed within myself, addressing the sin within me, “I hate you.  I hate you.”⁶

I understand Gollum’s description of his descent to the dark side after discovering the ring in The Return of the King, saying he forgot “the taste of bread, the sound of trees, the softness of the wind, and even his own name.”⁷ 

I understand such deep loss.  I understand what it’s like to long for life as it was—for my original form, my original home.  To groan for my original relationship with creation and my Creator. 

I can identify with Gollum’s story because my story is just the same, only it started with a man named Adam and a woman named Eve who dwelt in a Garden of unmarred brilliance.  And even though they lived and died long before my time, I know deep down that they are still a part of me.  And I know that their decisions, though entertained and executed long ago, still have a direct effect upon me, whether I choose to accept that reality or not.

When Eve beheld the beauty of the forbidden fruit, considering its flavor and how it could make her wise (“Not dark, but beautiful and terrible as the dawn!  Treacherous as the sea!”), and when she and Adam had each taken a bite, it was not so very different from the time Sméagol first laid eyes on the Ring and decided in his heart that he must have it for himself—that he must “take it for me”⁸ and become Gollum.

The stories are so similar that whenever I hear those famous two words—“My preciousss”— my ears tickle with the hiss of the serpent that deceived my sister, Eve.  I hear the lie that led her and her husband to believe they didn’t need the God who so lovingly created them—that they could in fact be like Him themselves.

And now I walk through the valley of the shadow of their tragic, untimely deaths—through the severance of their unsullied standing with God in all His glory.  

At times, it’s practically tactile—this tragedy.  I can feel it all around me—this rotting flesh—binding itself to me, suffocating me, covering me like a film that won’t wash off.  Like the desperate message Gandalf found in the cobweb-covered book at Balin’s Tomb in The Fellowship of the Ring, I find myself inwardly despairing, “I cannot get out.  I cannot get out…”⁹ 

In moments like these, I want to claw at my chest and wail, “Wretched beast that I am!”

How can I ever be freed from this body of death?  Do I take matters into my own hands, punishing the weak, imperfect flesh that constantly disgusts and disappoints me?  Or do I let someone else do it—give them clearance to bully me—make me pay for the way I continually stray? 

…Or do I accept that Someone Else has already paid the price—the One called the Last Adam?  Do I accept that He destroyed the Ring once and for all—the one that neither Frodo, nor I, nor anyone else can destroy on our own, no matter how hard we try?  Do I accept that it was He who knew no sin who chose to become sin for me that I might be Gollum no more? 

Do I simply say, “Thank you?"

The endings are very similar for my story and for Frodo’s in that they seem to go on and on and on (I think The Return of the King has one of the most epic conclusions in the history of film), and yet they are so very different because Frodo’s story eventually does stop.  The last scene closes, the credits roll, and there is nothing left of the Hobbit’s tale except the scenes that extend into the recesses of my wild imagination. 

This isn’t the case for me.  There is no conclusive stopping point to my story—no scenes of me sailing into the sunset on a silver sea, although the most epic Book ever written does offer glimpses of glimmering details of my days to come.  This same Book says that I will live forever, but not with the pain and agony my flesh has long fought to force upon my conscience.  I will live forever with the freedom and light that come from knowing that I have been made perfect and sanctified by the sacrifice of a Perfect Being.  No longer will I stagger under the bitter and burdensome shadow of death set in motion by my ancestors, but I will sing with joy beneath the shadow of the Almighty’s wings.

As I look forward to the days that lie beyond the mysterious veil of my life here on earth, I can’t help but repeat the famous parting words of Bilbo Baggins in The Return of the King in saying, “I think I’m…quite ready for another adventure.” ¹⁰

Bibliography

1.  Walsh, Fran, Philippa Boyens, Peter Jackson, and Guillermo del Toro. “The Elven-Gate.” The Hobbit: The Desolation of Smaug, DVD. Directed by Peter Jackson. Burbank, CA: Warner Bros. Entertainment, Inc., 2013.

2.  Walsh, Fran, Philippa Boyens, Peter Jackson, and Guillermo del Toro. “Bilbo The Burglar.” The Hobbit: The Desolation of Smaug, DVD. Directed by Peter Jackson. Burbank, CA: Warner Bros. Entertainment, Inc., 2013.

3.  Walsh, Fran, Philippa Boyens, Peter Jackson, and Guillermo del Toro. “Smaug The Magnificent.” The Hobbit: The Desolation of Smaug, DVD. Directed by Peter Jackson. Burbank, CA: Warner Bros. Entertainment, Inc., 2013.

4.   Walsh, Fran, Philippa Boyens, Stephen Sinclair, and Peter Jackson. “The Mirror of Galadriel.” The Lord of the Rings: The Fellowship of the Ring, special extended ed., part 2. DVD. Directed by Peter Jackson. Los Angeles, CA: New Line Productions, Inc., 2001.

5.   Walsh, Fran, Philippa Boyens, and Peter Jackson. “The Crack of Doom.” The Lord of the Rings: The Return of the King. DVD. Directed by Peter Jackson. Los Angeles, CA: New Line Productions, Inc., 2003.

6.   Walsh, Fran, Philippa Boyens, Stephen Sinclair, and Peter Jackson. “Gollum and Sméagol.” The Lord of the Rings: The Two Towers. DVD. Directed by Peter Jackson. Los Angeles, CA: New Line Productions, Inc., 2002.

7.   Walsh, Fran, Philippa Boyens, and Peter Jackson. “The Finding of the Ring.” The Lord of the Rings: The Return of the King. DVD. Directed by Peter Jackson. Los Angeles, CA: New Line Productions, Inc., 2003.

8.   Walsh, Fran, Philippa Boyens, and Peter Jackson. “Gollum’s Villainy.” The Lord of the Rings: The Return of the King. DVD. Directed by Peter Jackson. Los Angeles, CA: New Line Productions, Inc., 2003.

9.  Walsh, Fran, Philippa Boyens, Stephen Sincliar, and Peter Jackson. “Balin’s Tomb.” The Lord of the Rings: The Fellowship of the Ring, special extended ed., part 2. DVD. Directed by Peter Jackson. Los Angeles, CA: New Line Productions, 2001.

10.   Walsh, Fran, Philippa Boyens, and Peter Jackson. “The Grey Havens.” The Lord of the Rings: The Return of the King. DVD. Directed by Peter Jackson. Los Angeles, CA: New Line Productions, Inc., 2003.