World War I

The fellowship of J.R.R. Tolkien and C.S. Lewis, shaped by reality in World War I

The fellowship of J.R.R. Tolkien and C.S. Lewis, shaped by reality in World War I

A British soldier began writing "The Fall of Gondolin" while in a hospital bed, stricken by "trench disease" from the lethal front lines of World War I.

A German soldier later bemoaned the "lice, rats, barbed wire, fleas, shells, bombs, underground caves, corpses, blood, liquor, mice, cats, artillery, filth, bullets, mortars, fire, steel." Add poison gas to that ordeal.

Young J.R.R. Tolkien wrote: "The fume of the burning, and the steam of the fair fountains of Gondolin withering on the flame of the dragons of the north, fell upon the vale of Tumladen in mournful mists." The battlefields were "cold and terrible."

This was a vision of war from a man who had been there, said Joseph Loconte, author of "A Hobbit, a Wardrobe and a Great War." The book explores the many ways that World War I shaped Tolkien and C.S. Lewis.

"Tolkien wasn't writing escapist fantasy," said Loconte, reached by telephone. "If this is about escape, it's the writings of a prisoner who has escaped the world of cells, bars and keys. This kind of escapism … helps us realize that our prisons have windows and we can use them to see better things."

Tolkien later wrote that he began creating his Middle Earth mythology -- the foundation for the future "The Lord of the Rings" -- while "in grimy canteens, at lectures in cold fogs, in huts full of blasphemy and smut, or by candlelight in bell-tents, even some down in dugouts under shell fire."

Yes, the man who survived days huddled in shell craters and trenches in France would later write, in a blank page in an Oxford student's exam book, these famous words: "In a hole in the ground there lived a Hobbit."

Tolkien and Lewis remain stunningly popular -- in print and on digital screens.

Dorothy Sayers: It's no mystery that her world was shaped by a classical education

Dorothy Sayers: It's no mystery that her world was shaped by a classical education

As president of the Detection Club, Dorothy L. Sayers led initiation rites featuring ceremonial garb, flickering candles and the spooky presence of Eric, a human skull.

With a flair for the dramatic, Sayers required British mystery writers to take an oath, including: "Do you promise that your detectives shall well and truly detect the crimes presented to them, using those wits which it may please you to bestow upon them and not placing reliance on, or making use of, Divine Revelation, Feminine Intuition, Mumbo-Jumbo, Jiggery-Pokery, Coincidence or the Act of God?"

New members promised "moderation" in -- this is a partial list -- the use of conspiracies, death-rays, ghosts and trapdoors, while "utterly and forever" avoiding "Mysterious Poisons unknown to Science." And of course: "Do you solemnly swear never to conceal a vital clue from the reader?"

The Detection Club was founded in 1930, with G.K. Chesterton as president. Sayers was a founding member and became its third president, followed by Agatha Christie.

Famous for her Lord Peter Wimsey detective novels, Sayers' career defied simple labels. As a young woman, she worked for the S.H. Benson advertising agency in London. Among Christians, she is best known as a colleague of C.S. Lewis, J.R.R. Tolkien and others in the Inklings writers circle in Oxford. Sayers wrote poetry, theological essays and theatrical works for the stage and BBC Radio. She was gifted in multiple languages and spent the final years of her life translating Dante's "The Divine Comedy" into English.

Sayers is also known for a 1947 Oxford presentation -- "The Lost Tools of Learning" -- that has influenced generations of Classical education leaders in the United States, England and elsewhere. As a child, she was educated by her father, an Anglican vicar, who taught choral music and Latin at Oxford.

"Her parents gave her a classical education that allowed her to navigate her world, the tools to support herself. When she struggled and made mistakes, she was able to repent and get back on track," said medieval scholar Lesley-Anne Williams, who lectured on "Dorothy Sayers: Advertising, Murder and Classical Education" during last week's annual Inklings Festival at the ecumenical Eighth Day Institute in Wichita, Kansas.

Philip Jenkins on giant, global leaps of faith in 1918, 1968 and 2018?

Philip Jenkins on giant, global leaps of faith in 1918, 1968 and 2018?

One of the most famous tales of World War I began when a fantasy fiction writer wrote a story in 1914 about British soldiers crying for help while facing overwhelming German forces near Mons, in France.

Their prayers summoned heavenly hosts of archers attacking the "heathen horde."

Soon, veterans started claiming that they saw these "angels" with their own eyes. Images of the Angel of Mons began appearing -- as fact -- in posters, paintings and popular songs.

It's hard to imagine a world in which nations led by rational, scientific elites could embrace these claims, said historian Philip Jenkins, in recent lectures at King University in Bristol, Tenn. That world is impossible to imagine because it was swept away a century ago by waves of change that few saw coming.

"What happened in the victory? 'Oh, angels appeared. The dead arose to fight for us.' When the Germans launched their great offensive in 1918, of course, what else could it be called? It's Operation Michael, after the leading archangel -- who by this point has become something like a German war god," said Jenkins, a distinguished professor at Baylor University and author of 27 books.

"If you look at the propaganda of the time, the assumption is that Christ is absolutely with US -- whoever WE are, the Germans, the Americans, whatever."

Before World War I, most global leaders followed a radically different set of assumptions, with ironclad ties between their governments and major religious institutions, he said. Many soldiers believed that St. Michael the Archangel, the Virgin Mary, even Joan of Arc, would fight by their side. As the war began, Germany experienced fervor many called a "New Pentecost," with Martin Luther as a messianic figure.

While it's common to believe that religion evolves slowly over time, in a linear manner, the evidence suggests that history lurches through periods of "extreme, rapid, revolutionary change, when everything is shaken and thrown up into the air," said Jenkins. Ever 50 years or so, new patterns and cultural norms seem to appear that never could have been predicted.