God, According to "Wizards"
A plan in the heart of a man is like deep water,
But a man of understanding draws it out.
“I wish the ring had never come to me. I wish none of this had happened.”
Frodo reflects while waiting in the Mines of Moria. The literal fate and figurative weight of the world rests on his shoulders, even if he has eight friends to help him carry some of the load.
Before the ring, Frodo lived happily and at peace. Before the ring, Frodo rested in his hobbit hole, drinking ale and smoking pipe weed and walking gingerly through the Shire. Before the ring, Frodo didn’t even know about a ring to rule them all, a Dark Lord wanting it back, and the thousands of dark creatures threatening his very way of life to help the Dark Lord get it back in order to destroy all good.
Before the ring, Frodo was a simpler Frodo. But upon carrying it all the way to Rivendell, and watching the “big” men, elves, and dwarves fighting over who deserves the right to carry it, Frodo takes upon himself to take the ring all the way to Mordor.
But only if he had known the cost of such a task. In a moment of fragility and humanity, he grasps for a second how hard and challenging it has already been to carry such an evil mcguffin as far as he has. Who should he open up to but, of course, Gandalf the Grey.
The “wizard.”
This trope is my favorite in the hero’s journey. I find these characters the most interesting, most engaging, most likely to have the best lines in the whole story. Further, these “wizards” are not detached professors who have endless knowledge about random unimportant topics nor fluffy genies who always provide the hero exactly what they need when they need it. They do not lie to the “hero” about the difficulty of their given task, and they don’t expect the hero to accomplish their journey without both wise advice and wholehearted encouragement. In short, the “wizard” is needed not only for the hero’s journey in myth, but in every single life that’s ever been lived. Put better, in order for any young boy or girl to become a man or woman, they need elders, “wizards,” those who have seen the path ahead of time and can report back the truth of what they know.
Without “wizards,” we all trek on the road blinded. Without “wizards,” we all trek on the road frightened. Without “wizards,” we all trek on the road alone.
And if there’s one thing I know with absolute certainty in this life is this; we are never alone. We all have a divine “wizard” above us at all times guiding each one of our steps.
This “wizard,” I believe, has now appointed me to go to “wizarding” school to help scores of heroes and heroines on their quests.
In t-minus four hours, I am having a grad school interview. To become a professor of Defense Against the Dark Arts at Hogwarts school of witchcraft and wizardry.
Just kidding.
To become a counselor.
This I have known to be my calling for years, but finally this prodigal son has come back home to his Father, and his Father has sent him back out to find other prodigal sons (and daughters) to help them come back home too.
For many years I thought teaching might be my path. To be clear and to be fair, the two roles do very similar things. They both coach, advise, help, and speak into the lives of precious little ones (both literal little ones and the little ones that big people bury deep, deep down after the pain and trauma of life). They both are highly invaluable and very underrated. Good teachers and good counselors care little for money, for acclaim, for recognition. Good teachers and good counselors care about the hearts of the ones in their care. As Martin Luther King Jr. said, “intelligence plus character – that is the goal of true education.”
Where I diverge, I suppose, is that although I do care about the intelligence of all the kids I’ve served over the years, it is their character formation that has mattered most by many miles.
And this I learned from all the “wizards” I’ve come across in my life. On the screen, on the page, in the classroom, in my house.
My father and mother, brother and sister all showed me universal and pivotal truths about “the road.” My teachers, in particular, Mr. Gritters and Sr. Chavez, comforted me while I was lost and confused on “the road.” Brennan Manning, Henri Nouwen, and Thomas Merton revealed the course they took on “the road” of which I embark on now.
And, even then, fictional characters too have been literal wizards to me in my life. Obi-wan whispered to my six year old ecstatic, nerdy self that “the force will be with you. Always (trade force for the Spirit and it’s basically the same thing).” Dumbledore reminded my teenage, angsty self that “dark and difficult times lie ahead. Now we must make the choice between what is right and what is easy.” Yoda, in the criminally overly criticized Last Jedi wisely noted to my disenchanted twenty-five year old self that “we are what they grow beyond. That is the burden of all masters.”
We all need these mentors, we all need these counselors. The fullest I have ever felt, the deepest insight I have ever gleaned, the richest of spiritual, transcendent moments I have ever experienced were tied closely to the wisdom of those who have gone on ahead of me. After all, there is nothing original in life, only distinct ways to tell the universal.
My distinct yet universal path is to become the “wizard.” More fully. I have already been a wizard of sorts to dozens of children. While I meandered in codependent flings and relationships, struggled downing bottle after bottle of beer, and all but rejected the notion of a good God loving a broken world, still, God, the ultimate “wizard,” was at work in me as a “wizard” to so many lost and struggling and hurting and confused little ones on the road. This is what Paul meant when he said God’s power is made perfect in weakness.
This is how the best “wizards” not only help renew minds but enrich the hearts of their “apprentices.” They not only offer insight during times of confusion but join the trenches in the fray of the ongoing battle on the road. Their purpose, their “road,” their journey, has always been destined to aid others in discovering their purpose, finding their distinct path on the road, and offering either compassion or wisdom (and sometimes both) on their journey.
Without “wizards,” there are no heroes. Without “wizards,” there are no journeys. Without “wizards,” heroes would never know both that they were heroes and that there is a journey they must embark on to reveal to the world that they are heroes.
Without God, the first “wizard,” there are no other wizards.
Frodo was angry. Gollum had been following them for several weeks now. He had the ring before Bilbo, who had the ring before Frodo.
His very life clings to the ring. For Frodo, in this point in the journey, the ring is powerful but not quite corrupting. But for Gollum, the ring is everything. Without it, who is he?
Yet the venom of disdain and hatred spews out as Frodo says “pity Bilbo didn’t kill him when he had the chance.”
“Pity?” Gandalf responds. “It's a pity that stayed Bilbo's hand. Many that live deserve death. Some that die deserve life. Can you give it to them, Frodo? Do not be too eager to deal out death in judgment. Even the very wise cannot see all ends. My heart tells me that Gollum has some part to play in it, for good or evil, before this is over. The pity of Bilbo may rule the fate of many.”
Aware of his quick and vengeful reaction to a being he had never met, Frodo descends to the rock, sighing deeply.
So too do we all react when the hardships of life overwhelm us and over burden us so that we reject extending compassion and pity to those around us also overwhelmed and over burdened. So inwardly focused on our own plight, our own circumstances, our own difficulties, we do not see outside of ourselves. Outside of our reality. Outside of reality itself.
We are all insignificant. Not in importance, but in the grand scheme of all things. We believe life is a film directed about us, where we are the primary character, and where we, hopefully, come out as the hero and develop our character well.
And yet, life isn’t about us. Not about you, not about me. Life is about everyone. Every single story, every single hardship, every single triumph. Every single grain of rice, every single flower petal, every single tsunami wave, every single COVID style crisis.
It is what we do that defines us. Said better, it is what we do externally which reveals who we are underneath. And it is who we are to others that affirms to others who we are. After all, out of the abundance of the heart our mouths speak.
So when Gandalf hears Frodo’s snappy and irritable response to Bilbo’s stalking, he rebukes his judgment and offers an alternative perspective to the events which happened between Bilbo and Gollum. Yet also, when he notes the despair riddled in Frodo’s body, sees the weariness of his sleepless eyes, hears the hearty and worried sigh of the ring-bearer, listens to the sincere and scared lines “I wish the ring had never come to me. I wish none of this had happened to me,” Gandalf responds like a true and good wizard.
“So do all who live to see such times but that is not for them to decide. All we have to decide is what to do with the time that is given to us.”
I have lived these kinds of encounters for years now. When I hear a desperate “nobody likes me,” I have whispered “we all deeply love you.” When I listen to the shrill and aggressive screams and shouts of a deeply angered child, I have stayed calm, resolute, and constantly compassionate. Where I have heard admins and teachers and parents and fellow students claim a student is beyond repair, I have pushed directly into their presence asking the student if we can “just talk.”
I am a “wizard,” and now I will hopefully be getting fancier wizarding credentials in a few years.
I just want to lessen the suffering of those around me, especially those who have already suffered so much. I want to understand the misunderstood, see the unseeable, hear the unhearable, wash those who are desperately dirty.
Joy has come not from others telling me how “great” or “important” of a “wizard” I have been with little ones, but rather from seeing heroes become the heroes I already knew they were. It doesn’t mean I don’t find it validating to hear positive feedback, but it is secondary to the reality of seeing heroes being heroic.
In the same way, God’s joy comes not from His followers telling Him how “great” or “important” He has been toward them, but rather from seeing His sons and daughters become the sons and daughters He already knew they were. It doesn’t mean He doesn’t enjoy our worship and reciprocal love, but it is secondary to the reality of His seeing sons and daughters become like His one and only Son.
To close, I’ll quote another great fictional “wizard” who, like me, believes strongly in the power of words.
“Words are, in my not so humble opinion, our most inexhaustible source of magic, capable of both inflicting injury and remedying it."
May I remedy where I inadvertently injure with all the patients I will see over the years with my words. May I, too, help remedy the injuries the world has placed upon them too.
Like any good and true wizard can.