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By Sean Southard
Class of 2015
“What shows that [the Fellowship of the Ring is] myth, not allegory, is that there are no pointers to a specifically theological, or political, or psychological application. A myth points, for each reader, to the realm he lives in most. It is a master key; use it on what door you like.”
– C.S. Lewis, “The Gods Return to Earth”
In The Fellowship of the Ring, J.R.R. Tolkien’s hobbits stumble into the Prancing Pony, a fictional pub in the town of Bree. Last week, a group of McConnell Scholars stumbled into The Eagle and Child, a very real pub in Oxford where Tolkien, C.S. Lewis, and notable literary figures shared food, ale, and stories. This experience caused me to reflect upon the majesty of the Lord of the Rings and one of the central lessons I learned from it – and the liberal arts education provided by the McConnell Center.
One can look at the characters in Lord of the Rings and see a wide spectrum of virtues and flaws in each character. Some individuals identify with the exorbitant hubris of Boromir, the unbounded “hastiness” of Merry or Pippin, or the cold and calculating realism of an Elf. The same person might marvel at the daunting courage of Aragorn, the steadfast loyalty of Sam, or the willful sacrifice of Frodo. From Tolkien’s writings, one can see a clear representation of humanity: messy, complicated, and conflicted. Readers can see themselves.
It also reveals a wider lesson learned through a liberal arts education: Man has a dual nature and is often faced with choices that will either make him (or her) less human or more human. To select a scene from The Hobbit to demonstrate this lesson, one only needs to read when Bilbo, wielding the Ring of Power, decided against taking Gollum’s life, when only moments earlier Gollum was considering which way to eat the Halfling. Bilbo chose mercy, not vengeance. Gandalf underscores the wisdom of this act when discussing it with Frodo in saying, “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.”
One way of making it easier to choose rightly in the modern world is to look up to role models, or personal heroes. Harvard University professor and Christian humanist Irving Babbitt wrote in his book Democracy and Leadership that “[a] man needs to look, not down, but up to standards set so much above his ordinary self as to make him feel that he is himself spiritually the underdog.” Though I know that I often fall short of reaching the example of the role models I have selected for myself, I have learned that there is virtue and moral improvement in striving to reach the examples of my heroes. These range from the standards of familial stewardship set by my parents, the mythic examples of courage and humility in Aragorn and George Washington, and - as a Christian - the mercy and forgiveness illustrated by Christ. The beauty of these lessons, are as C.S. Lewis put it in his review of The Fellowship: “there are no specific pointers to a specifically theological, or political, or psychological application.” These lessons point to the realm in which we inhabit.
With that, I conclude my last McConnell Center blog. In a way, it is fitting that at the end of four years I return once more to the very first idea introduced to the Class of 2015 at scholar orientation: the importance of heroes, and of emulation. To sit with friends in the same pub as the “Inklings” was a surreal experience possible because of the McConnell Center. To it I owe much, and words cannot express how grateful I am to the Program.
Sean Southard is a 2015 graduate of the McConnell Scholars Program. He currently works for RunSwitch, a Louisville public relations firm.