“In a hole in the ground there lived a hobbit.”[i]
That’s the opening line from J.R.R. Tolkien’s beloved work, aptly named “The Hobbit.” The author goes on to assure us readers that this hole isn’t a nasty, dirty, unpleasant place. No — “it was a hobbit-hole, and that means comfort.”
That last bit is important. Comfort and all it entails — a warm bed, an abundance of food, time for leisure and recreation — come to define hobbits, in many ways differentiating them from the other inhabitants of Tolkien’s Middle-earth.
Our heroic hobbit, Bilbo Baggins, knows little and cares less about the affairs of the wider world. While the Elves push back against a rising darkness and the Dwarves seek out riches and precious metals, while Orcs rise in numbers and strength and the Race of Men tries to redeem past sins, hobbits in general — and Bilbo in particular — are content to let the world turn.
When the wizard Gandalf comes knocking with an invitation to adventure, he has his work cut out for him. Bilbo is at best reluctant to leave his comfortable hobbit-hole behind. Dragons, treasure and lonely mountains? What business is it of Bilbo’s what happens a world away?
“[We] have no use for adventures,” he claims. “Nasty disturbing uncomfortable things! Make you late for dinner!”[ii]
Of course, it wouldn’t be much of a story if this was the last word on the matter. Gandalf sets Bilbo straight — and sets him on the own road to adventure.
Dragons are scary and mountains can be hard to climb, but what most strikes me about Bilbo’s reluctant embrace of the journey at hand is the temptation to comfort. A desire for something more stirs even in Bilbo, and it surprises him. But the questions that likely haunt him, keeping him at his breakfast table instead of on the road to the Green Dragon Inn, go something like this: Isn’t this good enough? What business have I to seek out something more? What business is it of mine to worry over the affairs of others?
Comfort isn’t a bad thing. In fact, the entire hobbit way of life is in no small part what our heroes fight to preserve as the story of “The Lord of the Rings” unfolds. But comfort, too, can become paralyzing. We can settle for a status quo — cling to it, even — without realizing we’re in fact cutting ourselves off from growth, from opportunity, from other people. Our lives become static, and any interruption becomes an irritant.
Gandalf, Tolkien writes “dwelt in no place … but went to and fro … befriending all folk in times of need.”[iii] His lifestyle appears to be the very opposite of a hobbit’s. Tolkien goes on to say that this particular wizard was not proud and sought no power or praise. Instead, it seems, he sought to stir the unsuspecting to action, to take their place in the great story of their age.
Jesus is no wizard but he comes to us just the same, stepping out of the wider world and inviting us into the unknown, challenging us to shake off our status quo and take our place in God’s own story. Because God always calls us to become more fully alive, more fully able live out God’s dream, more fully available to respond to the needs of God’s creation.
So, what’s holding us back? What in our lives keeps us from embracing God’s invitation? Who might the wizards be in our day-to-day, calling us to something more? And what do we — what does our world — stand to lose if we ignore their invitation?
[i]Tolkien, J.R.R. The Hobbit (Ballantine Books, 1973), 15.
[iii] Tolkien, J.R.R. Unfinished Tales: The Lost Lore of Middle-Earth (Ballantine Books, 1980), 408.
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