movie night
To pass the chilly month of January, my husband endeavored to once again to introduce our daughter to one of his favorite movie genres: fantasy. He’s passed Luke, Darth and Chewbacca by her multiple times, in hopes that she’ll let the force be with her. He’s tried to entice her with Hogwarts’ enchantment and hoped she’d marvel at several Marvel films. Alas, she is the most literal child we know, preferring National Geographic documentaries, with only the occasional musical thrown in.
I wanted to help with his last ditch effort, so I cozied up our living room one Friday night with a pallet I’d dragged downstairs, pillows and blankets enough to woo any soul dragging toward the weekend. We convinced her to try one last time; promising that we’d only watch one hour of the first of the Lord of the Rings trilogy, The Fellowship of the Ring. I didn’t tell him, but I figured there was at least a 50/50 chance her teenage heart would be hooked solely by Orlando Bloom and Viggo Mortensen, but maybe he’d never know.
Most all of us know the story by now, of silly little hobbits, beloved by an absurdly generous wizard named Gandalf. We know about the safety and beauty of the shire where they live, and the disruption of darkness through the discovery of an ancient ring. The ring is too powerful, bending the will and sobriety of men toward doom. Frodo the hobbit has an uncle named Bilbo, who exposes the ring and awakens a great evil that has been lying await and begins to move to hunt for the ring and its owner. The story is one of terrifying travel from home, the quest of evil to destroy, the belovedness of hobbits and men, and the restoration of our truest longings.
Set toward the middle of the film and following a bloody battle, is a scene of safety and friendship; a brief reprieve in Valinor, among the elves. Frodo and his bedraggled band realize that the only way forward is to take the ring to the scariest corner of the kingdom in order to destroy its dark power. An argument breaks out among kings, elves, men about how, and who, and why. There is fretting, blaming, and judgment.
Small Frodo steps up and ends the argument by offering to take the ring himself. He has long lived under the loving presence of a good and powerful wizard named Gandalf, but he is still scared. The audience is taken to Gandalf’s face at once, and we see him crumple with love, pain, and compassion for his little hobbit friend. He turns and walks toward Frodo, puts his hand on Frodo’s shoulder and tells him “I will help you bear this burden, Frodo Baggins, as long as it is yours to bear.” And one by one, the band of men around them melt from their arguing and step in to offer their various gifts to comfort and travel with Frodo the brave.
We’d had our teen girl right up to this point. To be sure, the story is gripping, because it pulls on the way our hearts were made. The cute son of the king and bow-shooting elf hadn’t hurt either. She fully bought in, no complaining. And I ruined it all. To her horror, I started to weep. I wept foolish, hobbit tears, because I have known the loneliness and overwhelm of carrying burdens too strong for me. I wept because Gandalf’s face reminded me our Father is permanently in love with us, rises with compassion to meet us, and promises that every day we walk the path ahead, with any burden too great, He will help us. I wept because I remembered that He will help us until we’re back home safe in the shire. It is his delight to carry our burdens, and to place fellowship around us on this journey. My husband decided to pause our viewing for the night there, in hopes of salvaging her attention another day, and in effort to give me time to gather myself.
We did finish the film later, and she actually said she’d watch the other two movies- provided that I not fall apart. Victory! I still am not sure whether she took hold of the metaphors, but I deeply hope they will take hold of her.
I am not sure you would have hijacked Friday movie night with hobbit tears, but I am sure that you too, having walked any stretch of the path east of Eden, have felt the force of evil pushing and pulling on you to lose heart. You’ve ached for protection from certain burdens, and for resolution. It is coming. In the meantime, there is a powerful protector and plenty of fellowship, enough to take heart until we are back in the shire.
Meredith joined The Barnabas Center staff in January 2009, upon completing her Masters in Counseling from Gordon-Conwell Theological Seminary and her Bachelors in Religion and Psychology from Furman University. She counsels, leads women’s groups and teaches a seminar called “Hope in the Darkness” for those walking with individuals suffering from depression or bipolar disorder.
