Sacred Initiation and Baptismal Symbolism in Tolkien’s Stories

"The Lord of the Rings is of course a fundamentally religious and Catholic work; unconsciously so at first, but consciously in the revision". ~ JRR Tolkien

From One Peter Five

By Robert Lazu Kmita, PhD

We Need a Hero

Led by Gandalf and the famous leader of the dwarves, Thorin Oakenshield, the council held in the little house of the hobbit Bilbo Baggins led those present to one of the most challenging decisions ever made in the world of stories: to set out to confront Smaug, the dragon who had taken over their castle and stolen their treasure. How could it be otherwise in a world where the fabulous, the fantastic, and the enchanting intertwine, creating that atmosphere that keeps us captivated for hours on end, following—alongside our children and grandchildren—the adventures of unforgettable characters?

However, dealing with a fiction writer whose Catholic faith profoundly influenced his life, we will soon discover that his words hide much more than they seem to say. So, let us return to the council of the dwarves.

Ready to face unimaginable dangers to reclaim their mountain and possessions, the dwarves plunge into the unknown with the enthusiasm characteristic of history’s greatest fools. But the wise Gandalf is there to temper their eagerness with advice that is as simple as it is well thought out. Here is what he told them when they were discussing how to enter the mountain where the dragon had made its lair:

“That would be no good,” said the wizard, “not without a mighty Warrior, even a Hero.”[1]

A true warrior from ancient times—or, if possible, even a hero—that is what is needed! But since such a figure is not easily found, not even in Tolkien’s world, those present must embrace the hardships of a journey that will transform them into true heroes. The signs of these transformations are masterfully encoded by the author within the fabric of his stories.

If we examine, for instance, the evolution of each of the hobbits who set out to battle the evil arising from the dark lands of Mordor, we can easily observe the “mutations” in their personalities: from cheerful, fun-loving hobbits who enjoy jokes, beer, and festivities, they become true warriors. The author—deeply concerned with revealing the metamorphosis of his heroes—describes, succinctly yet emphatically, the development of characters such as Bilbo and Frodo Baggins.

Marked by the dualism of his own personality—one adventurous, inherited from his Took ancestry, and the other domestic and comfort-loving, rooted in his Baggins lineage—Bilbo undergoes moments of profound transformation. Two of these stand out as pivotal: his confrontation with the giant spiders in Mirkwood and his unforgettable encounter with the dragon Smaug. In the key moments of each of these adventures, Tolkien vividly describes the transformation experienced by the small hobbit. After his first life-or-death struggle with a giant spider, for example, “he felt a different person, and much fiercer and bolder.” This gradual shift in his personality ultimately enables him to face the ultimate confrontation—the one with the terrible dragon, Smaug.

However, the most complete depiction of transformation experienced by one of Tolkien’s characters is that of the hero of The Lord of the Rings, Frodo Baggins. After enduring extreme trials and being pursued by terrifying enemies, Frodo barely escapes and finds refuge in one of the most beautiful Elven “homely homes”—Rivendell. There, he reunites with the wise old Gandalf, who immediately notices the changes the hobbit has undergone:

Gandalf moved his chair to the bedside and took a good look at Frodo. The colour had come back to his face, and his eyes were clear, and fully awake and aware. He was smiling, and there seemed to be little wrong with him. But to the wizard’s eye there was a faint change, just a hint as it were of transparency, about him, and especially about the left hand that lay outside upon the coverlet.

‘Still that must be expected,’ said Gandalf to himself. ‘He is not half through yet, and to what he will come in the end not even Elrond can foretell. Not to evil, I think. He may become like a glass filled with a clear light for eyes to see that can.’[2]

This transparency, like that of a glass filled with clear, crystalline water, is one of the most eloquent signs of the transformation experienced by Frodo Baggins. Not only he, but all the key characters in Professor Tolkien’s stories undergo similar metamorphoses. As we will see in the second part of this article, the most profound transformation of this kind is experienced by none other than Gandalf himself.

Essentially, however, the metamorphosis of the personality of one who becomes a hero represents a distinct category of symbolic imagery intricately woven into the fabric of Tolkien’s novels.

This symbolism—let’s call it “initiatory” in nature—is well represented in various moments of the narrative and is guided by the transformative principle at its core: by passing through certain extreme experiences, the Hero attains a “sacred” (i.e., “holy”) ontological status, fundamentally different from the “profane” (i.e., “secular”) nature of ordinary human beings. In other words, the “initiate” acquires a transfigured human condition, which enables the final victory over the forces of darkness. Otherwise, the ultimate triumph would be impossible without a heroic human nature.

For it is not enough merely to wish to defeat evil; one must become, through the metamorphosis of one’s own being, capable of doing so. This principle lies at the foundation of any religious initiatory rite, which finds its ultimate meaning in the supreme synthesis, of supernatural origin, of all these symbols of human transformation: Christian Baptism.

Mystical Death[3] and Rebirth

In a truly extraordinary text on baptismal symbolism, Saint John Chrysostom describes its significance:

What then is the use of the water? This too I will tell you hereafter, when I reveal to you the hidden mystery. There are also other points of mystical teaching connected with the matter, but for the present I will mention to you one out of many. What is this one? In Baptism are fulfilled the pledges of our covenant with God; burial and death, resurrection and life; and these take place all at once. For when we immerse our heads in the water, the old man is buried as in a tomb below, and wholly sunk forever; then as we raise them again, the new man rises in its stead.

As it is easy for us to dip and to lift our heads again, so it is easy for God to bury the old man, and to show forth the new. And this is done thrice, that you may learn that the power of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Ghost fulfills all this. To show that what we say is no conjecture, hear Paul saying, ‘We are buried with Him by Baptism into death’ and again, ‘Our old man is crucified with Him’ and again, ‘We have been planted together in the likeness of His death’ (Romans 6:4-6).

And not only is Baptism called a ‘cross,’ but the ‘cross’ is called ‘Baptism.’ ‘With the Baptism, says Christ, that I am baptized withal shall you be baptized’ (Mark 10:39) and, ‘I have a Baptism to be baptized with’ (Luke 12:50) which you know not; for as we easily dip and lift our heads again, so He also easily died and rose again when He willed or rather much more easily, though He tarried the three days for the dispensation of a certain mystery.[4]

From this substantial excerpt from Saint John Chrysostom’s homily, it is clear that from the earliest times of the Christian Church, the Sacrament of Baptism has been understood as a death and resurrection in Christ. The immersion in water symbolizes the catechumen’s burial in Christ’s death, from which they rise through resurrection with Him as a “new creature” (II Corinthians 5:17; Galatians 6:15).

The exegesis of the Church Fathers identified certain Old Testament episodes as prefigurations of Baptism. Among the most well-known are Noah’s Ark (the Church) floating above the raging waters (the fallen world), seen as a foreshadowing of salvation through Baptism, and the passage of the people of Israel through the Red Sea. All these instances highlight, on the one hand, the importance of the symbol of water, and on the other, the transformation of the baptized person’s nature: from mortal (thus lacking the supernatural life of grace) to resurrected (filled with the graces received in Baptism).

Gandalf, the Reborn

The novel The Hobbit, whose action—like all Tolkienian stories—takes place in an age prior to the Christian era (perhaps even before the Flood), contains at least one episode that evokes baptismal symbolism. This episode features Bilbo Baggins as its protagonist: the escape from the Woodland Elves’ fortress by traversing the cold, rushing waters of the Mirkwood River.

After their battle with the black spiders, the dwarves are captured by the warriors of the Elvenking. Bilbo is the only one who manages to escape. Using the ring that makes him invisible, he remains free and undetected by the elves. After spending several days in hiding, he discovers that there is another way out of the fortress besides the main entrance: an underground river used for trade with the inhabitants of the Long Lake town. Guided by Bilbo—who will earn the nickname “barrel-rider”—his imprisoned companions escape using this river, sealed inside giant barrels, before being carried by the rushing waters all the way to the town’s outskirts. More dead than alive, the members of Thorin Oakenshield’s Company thus pass through another initiatory stage of their unforgettable adventure.

However, baptismal symbolism is even more evident in another well-known episode from The Lord of the Rings, featuring Gandalf. Suspended on the Bridge of Khazad-dûm, near the exit from Moria, the members of the Fellowship of the Ring are attacked by one of the most terrifying foes imaginable—a servant of Melkor and Sauron: a “demon of terror” (i.e., a Balrog) from Arda’s distant past. The only one who can stand against it is Gandalf the Grey, who thus becomes the protagonist of a struggle that immediately brings to mind the ritual symbolism of being swallowed by a monster.[5]

Long I fell, and he fell with me. His fire was about me. I was burned. Then we plunged into the deep water and all was dark. Cold it was as the tide of death: almost it froze my heart.[6]

After defeating the dragon in a legendary struggle high above the mountains, on the rock of Zirakzigil, Gandalf passes through death to be reborn into a new human condition, one that allows him to wear the snow-white garment of the leader of the wise:

I threw down my enemy, and he fell from the high place and broke the mountain-side where he smote it in his ruin. Then darkness took me; and I strayed out of thought and time, and I wandered far on roads that I will not tell.

Naked I was sent back—for a brief time, until my task is done. And naked I lay upon the mountain-top. The tower behind was crumbled into dust, the window gone; the ruined stair was choked with burned and broken stone. I was alone, forgotten, without escape upon the hard horn of the world. There I lay staring upward, while the stars wheeled over, and each day was as long as a life-age of the earth.[7]

The Sacrament of the Baptism—symbolized by crossing a deep water—and its crucial symbolic elements, death and ritual resurrection, are present in the episode of Gandalf’s confrontation with the Balrog. The wise man captures the heart of the matter in a brief sentence: “I have passed through fire and deep water.” All these details, far from being consciously encoded by the author in the narrative, present that implicit symbolic dimension he spoke about in a letter dated December 2, 1958, addressed to the Jesuit scholar Robert Murray. In this letter, Tolkien stated that “the religious element is absorbed into the story and the symbolism.”[8] The existence of this dimension proves the deep, though discreet, influence of the author’s faith and values on his literature. Specifically, I believe it particularly confirms and strengthens what J.R.R. Tolkien himself confessed to his friend, Father Murray:

The Lord of the Rings is of course a fundamentally religious and Catholic work; unconsciously so at first, but consciously in the revision.[9]

[1] J.R.R. Tolkien, The Hobbit or There and Back Again, Illustrated by the Author, Boston: Houghton Mifflin Company, 1978, p. 27.

[2] The Fellowship of the Ring, being the first part of The Lord of the Rings by J.R.R. Tolkien, Harper Collins, 2004, pp. 290-291.

[3] There is a dense and scholarly study by the brilliant French scholar Michaël Devaux, dedicated exclusively to the theme of death in Tolkien’s novels: “L’Ombre de la mort chez Tolkien,” published in La Feuille de la compagnie, No.1, 2001. A shortened version can be read online at: https://www.jrrvf.com/partenaires/la-compagnie-de-la-comte/la-compagnie-de-la-comte-articles/lombre-de-la-mort-chez-tolkien/ [Accessed: 09 March 2025].

[4] Saint John Chrysostom, Homily 25 on the Gospel of John: https://www.newadvent.org/fathers/240125.htm [Accessed: 09 March 2025].

[5] I published a first article in The European Conservative about the symbolism of being swallowed by the dragon, “Swallowed by the Dragon: Monstrous Meanings in Tolkien’s Stories:” https://europeanconservative.com/articles/essay/swallowed-by-the-dragon-monstrous-meanings-in-tolkiens-stories/ [Accessed: 09 March 2025].

[6] The Two Towers, being the second part of The Lord of the Rings by J.R.R. Tolkien, Harper Collins, 2004, p. 654.

[7] Ibidem.

[8] Humphrey Carpenter with the assistance of Christopher Tolkien, The Letters of J.R.R. Tolkien, London: HarperCollins Publishers, 1995, p. 172.