Day Shall Come Again
A message of hope from the fiction of J.R.R. Tolkien
HEY, YOU! My newest book, Face to Face: A Novel of the Reformation, the sequel to Broken Bonds, is now available for pre-order for delivery on November 11.
Does the world seem especially dark right now?
If my study of history has taught me anything, it is that darkness is always present in the world—a dominating aspect of human existence on earth. Here I refer not merely to the absence of physical light, but the presence of evil. This darkness never truly disappears. It may wax and wane at times, but it is usually our perception that changes. Sometimes we pay more attention to the goodness in our world, and sometimes the evil smacks us in the face so we cannot avoid it. The sun may seem to shine on one person just as darkness engulfs another.
I often think of our world not as the spherical object we know it to be, but a sort of flattened surface on which the events of human history unfold. The earth is suspended between heaven and hell, with darkness reaching up from below to drag us into the abyss, and light shining down from above, beckoning us to rise. Which is to say that this is a war zone where light and darkness do battle, and we can choose to give our allegiance to one side or the other, to train our thoughts toward one or the other. That is what determines our ultimate trajectory, whether upward or downward, toward the light or the darkness.
J.R.R. Tolkien was fond of the light/darkness dichotomy, even as all great myth makers and religious sages before him. Day and night, darkness and light are tremendously important in Tolkien’s legendarium. The faithful Valar (angelic beings) who first shape the world that includes Middle-earth create two great lamps to provide the light necessary for life. But an evil member of the Valar, Morgoth,1 hates the lamps that expose his dark deeds, so he throws them down with his great might. The faithful Valar then create two trees to provide light to the world, but Morgoth attacks those as well. After each of these incursions, Morgoth retreats to his fortress Angband in the distant north, which the light struggles to reach.
In The Lord of the Rings, Gandalf returns to relieve the besieged forces at Helm’s Deep with the rising of the sun. Sauron is constantly linked with darkness and shadow. So we see that in every part of Tolkien’s fiction, night and darkness are associated with evil, while day and light signify life and salvation.
One of my favorite moments in Tolkien’s legendarium comes at a particularly bleak point in The Silmarillion, when Morgoth’s forces have utterly destroyed the armies of the faithful. This battle known as the Nirnaeth Arnoediad (“unnumbered tears”) ends with a single righteous man, Húrin, standing his ground while the bodies of his fallen comrades lay scattered around him.
“Last of all Húrin stood alone. Then he cast aside his shield, and wielded an axe two-handed; and it is sung that the axe smoked in the black blood of the troll-guard of Gothmog until it withered, and each time that he slew Húrin cried: ‘Aurë entuluva! Day shall come again!’ Seventy times he uttered that cry; but they took him at last alive, by the command of Morgoth, for the Orcs grappled him with their hands, which clung to him still though he hewed off their arms; and ever their numbers were renewed, until at last he fell buried beneath them. Then Gothmog bound him and dragged him to Angband with mockery. Thus ended Nirnaeth Arnoediad, as the sun went down beyond the sea.”2
I think about this moment a lot. Here we see a man who knows that his land has been conquered, his friends butchered, his hopes utterly destroyed. The defeat is so total that only divine intervention could turn back the darkness that has engulfed them. Evil is victorious, and the sensible thing would be to surrender and hope for the least torturous imprisonment on offer. But Húrin refuses to do the sensible thing. Instead, he makes a statement that no one but his enemies will witness. Against all available evidence, he chooses to declare his belief in future salvation.
“Day shall come again! Day shall come again!”
Granted, this is only a story from the mind of a particularly imaginative English professor. However, there have been plenty of similar moments in the history of our own planet: people who chose, even after their enemies had thoroughly defeated them, to declare their belief in the ultimate triumph of good. And stubbornly, just like clockwork, the sun has continued to rise every day, shedding its light on the darkest parts of the world, which may not be the places we normally suspect. Any human being who wants hope need do nothing more than watch the sun rise in the morning, for that is proof that life goes on and the triumph of darkness is not total.
This is also the story of the Christian scriptures. Upon the birth of John the Baptist, the prophet who will prepare the way for the coming of the Messiah, the Baptist’s father Zechariah breaks into song, declaring that the long-sought salvation has arrived. “As He spoke by the mouth of His holy prophets from of old—Salvation from our enemies, and from the hand of all who hate us…” (Luke 2:70-71)3 He boldly predicts that “the sunrise from on high will visit us, to shine upon those who sit in darkness and the shadow of death, to guide our feet into the way of peace.” (vs. 78-79)
Toward the end of The Silmarillion, the faithful Valar lead a rescue mission to save the peoples of Middle-earth. Against their usual policy, they intervene directly, defeating Morgoth and binding him in chains. Then comes something extraordinary, for “out of the deep prisons a multitude of slaves came forth beyond all hope into the light of day, and they looked upon a world that was changed.”4
Even now, all around our world, people are imprisoned in darkness: some at the whims of tyrants, some due to addictions of their minds, some struck by ailments of the body, some bound by circumstances beyond their control. All of us in our own way are captives of this present darkness, longing to see the light of day again. Perhaps that light has been absent from your life for so long, it seems no more than a rumor—a fading memory of hope you once had.
Let me be the one to announce this good news to you: Day shall come again!
“And the city has no need of the sun or of the moon to shine on it, for the glory of God has illumined it, and its lamp is the Lamb.” (Revelation 21:23)
I do not know how long this struggle will last or what we will be called to sacrifice, but I believe the sun will rise in the morning, not truly for any scientific reason, but because I have seen it do so before. I also believe God will raise the dead, not for any scientific reason, but because he has done so before. It is the kind of thing that he likes to do.
“For behold, darkness will cover the earth, and deep darkness the peoples; but the Lord will rise upon you and His glory will appear upon you.” (Isaiah 60:2)
Even so, come, Lord Jesus. Lighten our darkness. Turn our night into day.
PUBLISHED ELSEWHERE:
“Is Eowyn Alright?” at Jokien with Tolkien
The true name of this character is Melkor, but he is called Morgoth by the peoples of Middle-earth, so I am sticking with that name for the sake of simplicity.
J.R.R. Tolkien. The Silmarillion. Edited by Christopher Tolkien. Houghton Mifflin Company, 1999. 195.
All scripture references are from the 1995 New American Standard Bible, copyright The Lockman Foundation.
Tolkien, 252.
This is beautiful, Amy. Or as I like to say, That’ll preach! “Day shall come again” is a refrain that reeks of John’s Gospel, especially chapters 14—16.
This moment from Hurin has always been one of my favorites in all of Tolkien’s writings. His frequent theme of striving against darkness in the face of likely or sometimes certain defeat is so moving. It’s heartening to read someone else’s similar appreciation.