Thanksgiving, Hobbits, and the Way of Ennoblement

Jesus tells us that it is more blessed to give than to receive. With Thanksgiving approaching, I thought this an opportunity to reflect on giving, receiving, and what it means to be thankful.

The popular conception of Thanksgiving is that it’s a time to give thanks for the blessings in our lives—for our family, friends, health, home, and so on. American Christians likewise give thanks to God for our spiritual blessings. This is right and good. We should be grateful and thank God for His good gifts, whether a homemade meal or eternal salvation.

But it’s also true that the popular imagination as it relates to Thanksgiving—that is, as a secular holiday—doesn’t fully measure up to the Christian understanding of giving, of receiving, and of grace. Christian thanksgiving is not just gratitude for gifts received. Rather, thanksgiving in Christ is expressed in self-giving love born of gratitude. As French philosopher and theologian Jean-Louis Chrétien put it, “To be is to be belated.”¹ In other words, to live as a person made in the image of God is always already, and necessarily, to respond to the gift that precedes us.

And how should we respond? In thanksgiving, yes, but how is Christian gratitude distinct?

As usual, J. R. R. Tolkien is illuminative. In one of his letters to an inquiring reader, Tolkien reveals that “[…] nothing moves my heart (beyond all the passions and heartbreaks of the world) so much as ‘ennoblement.’”² For Tolkien, the elevation of the humble is love’s par excellence. He reiterates this point at the letter’s close: “In the myth, the motive of the ennoblement of the humble is continually present. I find it emotionally the most moving theme in the world.”³

The whole of Rings is expressive of this truth, and it is most clearly manifest in The Return of the King, when Aragorn, newly crowned king of Gondor, honors the hobbits for their role in saving Middle-earth. In the book, Tolkien writes:

“And all the host and all the people cried aloud with joy; and there were tears on many eyes. And last the captains of the West knelt, and laid their swords upon the ground before them [the hobbits]. ‘Praise them with great praise!’ he [Aragorn] said. ‘Frodo and Samwise!’ And all the host cried ‘Praise them with great praise!’”⁴

The scene is beautifully portrayed in Peter Jackson’s film adaptation. When the halflings bow to the king upon his coronation in the White City, Aragorn responds, “My friends, you bow to no one.” He then kneels before them, and the whole victorious host does the same.⁵ The hobbits aren’t conquering heroes who vanquish foes in might and cleverness; they aren’t being recognized for readily discernible laudable qualities. Rather, Aragorn bestows ennobling honor: he lifts the humble in gloried joy.

Aragorn’s words and actions aren’t just ennobling, but revelatory. The King’s praise, and his own humility, unveil heretofore obscured realities: Frodo and Sam’s courageous humility, their meek strength, and, ultimately, their merciful pity (toward Gollum) are the precise means by which the “mighty” and the “strong” are delivered from evil.⁶ The eyes of the powerful—not least the Great Eye of Sauron—could not perceive such Power at work, until the end. The heroes of the realm, in Middle-earth as in Christ’s Kingdom, are often hidden instruments of God’s providence.

Yet only a king can confer honor and glory. The hobbits are afforded praise not by Strider, the weather-worn ranger of the north, nor even by Aragorn, his rightful name, but by King Elessar Telcontar, the restored and true King of Gondor. Only in his royal office—only in persona rex—does Aragorn ennoble the hobbits.

There is another mystery at work, here. King Elessar could ennoble Frodo and Sam because he had first humbled himself. As rightful heir to the throne of Gondor, Aragorn and his Rangers could’ve accrued allies, marched on Minas Tirith, and taken the kingship by force. The throne was his, truly, by right. But Aragorn would not—for fear of wielding power unjustly, as his ancestor Isildur had done—take power by force. As a Ranger, he’d exiled himself from lofty halls to play the role of protector, and, ultimately, one to accompany the Ring Bearer and his fellows in song and sorrow. Because Aragorn had known the hobbits “in the fray,” so to speak—had walked beside them through cold, forsaken, orc-infested lands—he counted them friends. And when he assumed his royal station, Aragorn did not forget his suffering companions’ faithfulness.

Sound familiar? Christ humbled Himself, even to death on a Cross.⁷  It’s precisely because Jesus walks with us, in longsuffering exile, that His ennobling glory resonates so deeply. This is kenosis—the divine self-emptying that becomes the form of true kingship, mirrored in Aragorn’s humility.

Although Tolkien’s legendarium isn’t allegorical in the strict sense, The Lord of the Rings is a fundamentally Christian work, by the author’s own admission.⁸ There is what Tolkien calls “applicability” to characters, in that shades and signs of the Christian story are discernible in some of the character traits, plot devices, etc.⁹ Aragorn is not an allegorical Jesus, but he is in some respects a type of Christ: his exile, return, and exaltation resemble one facet of the messianic profile. Tolkien’s vision of kingship leads naturally to its divine counterpart.

Perhaps it’s fitting that, each year, the Feast of Christ the King is celebrated the Sunday before Thanksgiving (November 23^rd this year). The occasion marks the end of the Christian liturgical calendar year, and bears witness to the eschatological reality of Christ in exalted glory. As King, Jesus does not lord His sovereignty over us but draws us into His nobility, by revealing our labors with and in Him along the Way: I was hungry and you gave me food. I was thirsty and you gave me something to drink. I was a stranger and you welcomed me. Etc.¹⁰

Such gratitude shows us that, despite our weakness and our smallness—perhaps, because of it—He calls us friends. When we’re confronted by this grace—when we find in our suffering and meekness cause for joy—we gladly offer that “weakness” in service of Christ’s Kingdom. This is what it means to participate in the upside-down Kingdom of God: There, thanksgiving necessarily precedes ennoblement; and thanksgiving always proceeds from ennoblement.

Indeed, thanksgiving is ennoblement. Precisely in His incarnation and thanksgiving in the Father, Christ glorifies our bodies and sanctifies our souls. Precisely in our lives and thanksgiving in Christ, the Church ennobles others and redeems the world.

Too often, academics work to seize glory for ourselves. We treat students as distractions, obstacles to our “important work.” We scorn our “uneducated” peers and blame them for the world’s problems. But it’s most often a ruse—we’re only fooling ourselves—to amplify our sense of self-importance. We need only seek the praise of the praiseworthy, for He alone may give it.

And Christ is gracious, thanks be to God—so gracious that He offers Himself in the Eucharist, a word which, it’s no coincidence, means thanksgiving.

Now, pass the po-ta-toes, Samwise. Let’s Feast.

1. Chrétien, J.-L. (2004). The Call and the Response (A. Davenport, Trans.). Fordham University Press. (Original work published 1992).

2. Tolkien, J. R. R. (1981). The Letters of J. R. R. Tolkien (H. Carpenter & C. Tolkien, Eds.). George Allen & Unwin. (Letter 180).
3. Ibid., Letter 180.
4. Tolkien, J. R. R. (1955). The Return of the King (Book VI, ch. 4, “The Field of Cormallen”). London: George Allen & Unwin. p. 228.
5. Jackson, P. (Director). (2003). The Lord of the Rings: The Return of the King [Film]. New Line Cinema.
6. Hillman, T. P. (2023). Pity, power, and Tolkien’s ring: To rule the fate of many. Kent State University Press.
7. Philippians 2:5-8.
8. Tolkien, J. R. R. (1981). The Letters of J. R. R. Tolkien (H. Carpenter & C. Tolkien, Eds.). George Allen & Unwin. (Letter 142).
9. Tolkien, J. R. R. (1966). The Lord of the Rings (2^nd ed., Foreword to the Second Edition, pp. x–xi). London: George Allen & Unwin.
10. Matthew 25:35-40.