BY G. CONNOR SALTER

Martina Juričková. Cardinal Vices in Middle-earth (Studies in Linguistics, Anglophone Literatures and Cultures, Volume 43). Peter Lang, 2025. Hardcover, 366 pages.

Probably one of the most cited quotes by J.R.R. Tolkien is his comment in a December 2, 1953 letter to Robert Murray that The Lord of the Rings is a “fundamentally religious and Catholic work; unconsciously so at first, but consciously in the revision.” Specifically, Tolkien revised the work to be subtly Catholic, removing references to organized religion to from the final version while working his characters’ motivations to reflect a Catholic worldview.

Several reasons have been given for why Tolkien preferred to keep religious ideas subtle in his work. The most obvious answer is taste. In another well-quoted comment, he said, “I cordially dislike allegory in all its manifestations.” Scholars such as Holly Ordway (Tolkien’s Modern Reading) have noted that Tolkien was also uncomfortable with fantasy works that alluded to Christianity in obvious if not allegorical ways, such as C.S. Lewis’ Chronicles of Narnia. Given that Tolkien reportedly had concerns about lay Christians teaching theology, he also may have wanted to avoid the burden of being treated as an unofficial priest to his readers.

Many scholars have pondered how to analyze Tolkien’s Catholic vision in light of his commitment to a subtle treatment of Christianity in his fiction. How does one discuss a Catholic work when the author does not offer the obvious allusions that a writer like G.K Chesterton offers in the Ball and the Cross? Martina Juričková offers a thorough overview of how Tolkien’s characters operate in his fiction, arguing his view of virtuous behavior fits a Thomistic vision of proper behavior. Thomas Aquinas, whose theology was declared in 1917 to be the Roman Catholic Church’s authoritative teaching, offers a vision of moral behavior based on a set of seven cardinal virtues, actions which must meet particular conditions to qualify as virtuous choices, with seven corresponding negative actions which are considered cardinal vices. She explores how Thomistic virtue informs not only how characters behave in The Hobbit and The Lord of the Rings, but also in later Middle-earth writings like The Silmarillion.

To misquote a line from Peter Jackson’s Lord of the Rings trilogy, one does not simply cite Thomas Aquinas in an essay. Aquinas’ vision of moral behavior is so thoroughly systematic that it is difficult to say anything substantial about his work without using a similarly systematic formula. Fortunately, Juričková proves worthy of the task. She offers a thorough overview of Thomistic virtue (including an appendix entitled Thomism and Its Place in the Catholic Church). She is equally thorough when she considers how Tolkien’s heroes operate in a Thomistic vision, even noting how Tolkien makes the moral lessons in his stories subtler as he moves from a story for children (The Hobbit) to stories for adults (The Lord of the Rings and The Silmarillion).

Critics may wonder if Tolkien is providing a Christian vision as much as a medieval vision of what it meant to be a good citizen and or a good warrior. Juričková explores in the later sections, especially in Appendix B, The Morality of Northern Mythology, how hard Tolkien worked to produce a vision of heroism practiced in a medieval setting but a vision that goes beyond what pagan medieval warriors practiced. The appendix explores how Norse myth shows an ethic which is sometimes similar to Christian warrior ethics, but often takes a very different perspective on whether behaviors like wrath, pride, and lust are wrong. Juričková highlights several instances where Tolkien’s characters evoke medieval Norse values, and the complications that arise when those characters favor a Norse idea of what it means to be virtuous overo a Christian idea. For example, she reads Eowyn’s behavior fighting in Gondor as ofermed, a yearning for battle glory that looks like courage but is too wrapped up in striving to look powerful. As C.S. Lewis observes in his essay “The Necessity of Chivalry,” there is a critical difference between being a fierce Christian warrior who serves others and a fierce pagan warrior who serves the self.

One cannot fault how carefully Juričková outlines Thomism, although there may be a moment or two in the early chapters where her explanations could have bridged some of Aquinas’ ideas more explicitly with concerns about whether Tolkien’s Christian vision is too subtle. For example, Juričková summarizes scholars like Peter Kreeft who have made cases that Tolkien offers a distinctly Christian vision in his Middle-earth works. When discussing how even Kreeft offers a “solid, surprisingly secular, philosophical theory” to show how The Lord of the Rings qualifies as Christian literature, she notes that Kreeft avoids comparing Tolkien to Christian writers like C.S. Lewis, although “it must be admitted that even Kreeft at some points calls to Lewis’s theological works to support his arguments, for instance in the questions on the purpose of human life…”

This observation prompts the question whether Tolkien’s Christian vision is self-evident or readers must reference Tolkien’s commentary and his friends’ writings to see the distinctly Christian vision. Some scholars (most recently, Camilo Peralta in an interview included in my book The Other Inklings) have raised that very question. In that context, it helps to remember that Aquinas and most other Catholic theologians emphasized natural theology, a belief that it is possible to learn much about divinity from the observable world without resorting to special revelation (Scripture, church teaching, etc.). From that perspective, Tolkien’s subtlety may not be a problem. With or without outside explanations, God has given readers enough to go on. If this is a missed opportunity to make this point, it is a very small missed opportunity and the detailed discussion of Thomism elsewhere in the book offers readers enough to connect the dots.

Even though Juričková focuses on advancing what scholars have said before about Tolkien’s theology more than offering categorizing ideas more than on offering a radical new lens to discuss his theology, her individual perspective shines through at times, often making interesting points. For example, when she surveys literature on Tolkien’s theology from the 1960s onward, she notes that a “peculiar trend of the new century is the emergence of a kind of devotionals inspired by Tolkien’s books. For example, Sarah Arthur’s books Walking with Frodo (2003) and Walking with Bilbo (2005) or Mark E. Smith’s Tolkien’s Ordinary Virtues (2002).” She does not call this trend a bad thing (readers familiar with her recent review of Into the Heart of Middle-earth by Kaitlyn Fascista will see how she appreciates its insights), but finds its emergence a bit curious. Perhaps since I have worked in American religious publishing (as a writer, editor, book reviewer, and other things) for about a decade, I found the trend not so much peculiar as another example of Christian publishing chasing whatever is currently popular. I recalled one editor sharing stories about how popular it was to use medieval imagery in evangelical devotional material during the 2000s because so many people were watching Peter Jackson’s trilogy. Hearing a scholar from outside America point out how funny this Tolkien-themed devotional trend looked from across the pond, and how a trend that was as much about commerce as about content could produce interesting work, reminded me to appreciate how scholarship can evolve in ways I do not expect. And also to see Tolkien studies as a global phenomenon.

A mighty tome about Tolkien’s Thomism, and how it produced the rich theology of his story world.