About three years ago, a priest friend reached out to Mark to meet over coffee. Besides meeting to discuss the work of Hans Urs Von Balthasar, he wanted us to invite him and a fellow priest over to our home for dinner. It was a delightful dinner in which we learned of one of the good fathers’ appreciation of our homemade jalapeño jelly but also of their hope to start an Oratory of St. Philip Neri at a parish in Lowertown St. Paul. We were intrigued and excited. We started participating in their efforts in several small ways. The three children who were still homeschooling and I would attend their daily noon Mass whenever it fit our school schedule. Since the kids have been attending our Catholic and Classical parish school this year, I have continued this practice without them. Further, Mark and I began attending a discussion group on articles from Communio magazine hosted by the good fathers of the aspiring oratory.
Furthermore, I have been slowly learning about St. Philip Neri and his Congregation—which has a rule, but no vows, and each house is independent of the others.[i] They are established with a purpose of prayer, preaching, and sacraments—things that it would seem should be a normal part of a Catholic parish to begin with. Yet, there is a unique character in Oratories established under the rule formed under St. Philip Neri’s guidance—their establishment is for the sake of the local community of lay people. Our local priests, while first emphasizing the fraternal charity that is meant to exist among them as priests, describe their impact on the laity this way:
An Oratorian parish apostolate is characterized by stability in its dedication to the formation of integral Christian community through common prayer and divine worship, catechesis and spiritual formation, and the study and exemplification of a truly Catholic culture which places itself at the service of its neighborhood and city.
In the past three years, we have witnessed the growth of the parish they took over by hundreds of percents—one of the fathers quipped to us once that they had “the fastest growing parish in the country.” So, what it is that draws people to this new endeavor? What is it about our natural and supernatural hungering that finds fulfillment in this sort of community? I think it has something to do with joy.
St. Philip Neri is known for his joy and cheerfulness—and it seems that this is a gift that he passes on to his spiritual sons, even the aspiring Oratorian types. My children are often giggling in the presence of our good fathers due to some antic or joke. Our priest friends are true sons of St. Philip who would say, “I will have no melancholy, no low spirits in my house,” and advised others to “persevere in cheerfulness, for this is the true way to make progress in virtue.”[ii]
I have recently discovered a model for growing in true Christian cheerfulness in the new book Tolkien’s Faith: A Spiritual Biography by Holly Ordway. As I read, I learned more about J.R.R. Tolkien’s connection to the Oratorians in England, even ones that knew St. John Henry Newman personally, and I also discovered Tolkien’s love for his confirmation saint, St. Philip Neri. All of this is a roundabout lead into the idea I want to present in this post, that Hobbits are creatures that generally exist in a St. Philip-Neri-spirit of simplicity and joy—and it is one that I want more of in my life. (I mean, who doesn’t want to be a hobbit?)
Throughout her book, Ordway points out the humorous inclinations of Tolkien, ones that he clung to despite the early loss of his father and then his mother. Ordway emphasizes the great gift of having an Oratorian as his guardian in his formative years, leading up to his coming of age. And even Tolkien called himself “a Hobbit (in all but in size),” [iii] perhaps seeing a little bit of himself in Frodo, an orphan adopted by Bilbo and an inheritor of Bilbo’s estate. However, Fr. Francis Morgan did not give Tolkien anything so deadly to the soul as the Ring of Power. (Though I suppose that one could argue that all of us have our own Ring of Power to contend with in our free will and that submitting our will to God is like casting it into the fiery depths of Mount Doom, which I am sure someone else has already written somewhere.) Rather, Fr. Francis, known for his laugh, cheer, and encouragement, was for Tolkien a firm but loving guardian and guide as he matured into his adult life. And like Bilbo, Fr. Francis was even thought to be “something of a snob” by those who did not know him well. [iv] Ordway also describes how Tolkien wrote about first learning charity and forgiveness from his guardian, [v] and charity and forgiveness is a theme we see throughout The Lord of the Rings.
Thus, we see that the man who introduced the world to idea of a “Hobbit” is a spiritual son of St. Philip Neri, having spent his childhood with his mother going to Oratory churches, and his teenage years through adulthood under the care and influence of Oratorian priests. And while he endured much loss and hardship, he had a cheerful, joyful spirit within, and considered himself like a Hobbit.
In the Prologue to The Lord of the Rings, we learn a lot about Hobbits—such as where they live, various branches of them, the few wars they fought in, their love of pipeweed. And besides their inclination for six meals a day (St. Philip ate one a day), they live very much in a St. Philip spirit when they are living at their best. In Tolkien’s own words:
As for the Hobbits of the Shire, with whom these tales are concerned, in the days of their peace and prosperity they were a merry folk. [...] Their faces were as a rule good-natured rather than beautiful, broad, bright-eyed, red-cheeked, with mouths apt to laughter, and to eating and drinking. And laugh they did, and eat, and drink, often and heartily, being fond of simple jests at all times, and of six meal a day (when they could get them). They were hospitable and delighted in parties, and in presents, which they gave away freely and eagerly accepted. [vi]
I was just at a Mass and celebratory dinner last night in honor of this week’s Feast of St. Philip Neri at our aspiring Oratory and could apply nearly all of these same things to our aspiring Oratorians. In everything I have read about St. Philip Neri, hospitality and cheer are part of his way of life. He welcomed and loved all whom he encountered, and he was always “fond of simple jests.” His biographies share antidotes of his teasing ways—as he sought to humble himself and teach humility to those around him.
As Christians, the spirit of joy is in our hope in the Resurrection and our confidence in the perfect Will of God for our good, and these interior attitudes should help us persist in the face of any difficulty. Yet, the deepest joy comes from being in union with God, who is our final end. We have little tastes of this eternal union in prayer but also in good Christian fellowship. And while Hobbits in Middle Earth lived before our time of Christian hope, they can still model in for us how to live with cheer.
For example, we just have to look to the persistent cheerfulness of Merry and Pippin in The Lord of the Rings: their joy in encountering mushrooms, singing in the bath, the disastrous cheerful scene in the common room of the Prancing Pony, and so on. Or we can consider the way Bilbo in The Hobbit teased the cave trolls until dawn and irritated the spiders in the wood. Or there is Sam’s delight in a brace of conies, persistence in carrying seasoning, and his desire for potatoes while wandering in the dangerous wilderness, not to mention his recitation of his rhyme about oliphants. Perhaps the only thing that wore away at the Hobbit spirit was the bearing of the Ring, and even that took years to take effect.
Tolkien explained in his prologue that “it is plain indeed that in spite of later estrangement Hobbits are relatives of ours, far nearer to us than Elves, or even than Dwarves. [...] But what exactly our relationship is can no longer be discovered.”[vii] And while we know The Lord of the Rings to be a work of fiction, all good fiction contains truth. One truth contained there is the deep Hobbit-like potential within all of us to “love peace and quiet and good tilled earth,”[viii] to live simply and with joy in the little things. Tolkien tells us that the peace the Hobbits enjoy in the shire is a protected peace, as they are guarded by the Rangers and looked after by the wizards, living sheltered from turmoil of Middle Earth. If we want to have Philipine simplicity and joy, we too must strive to protect our peace. We must let go of desire for power contained within our will (get rid of that pesky ring!) and submit ourselves to the protection of the angels who guard us and the Holy Spirit who guides us. And our own hearts, our very center where the Holy Trinity dwells within us can become our personal Shires, from which our cheerfulness and joy are drawn, and pervade our whole existence.
One final note, lest you think I am a little too ridiculous in my thesis: Last night I told our good fathers about my idea about Hobbits and St. Philip Neri having the same simple joy, and one of them said, “Yeah, we are basically Hobbits.” Then afterwards my eldest, when I proposed this idea to her, suggested that the most Hobbit-like of them all is that very same father.
[i] Henry Sebastian Bowden. "The Oratory of Saint Philip Neri." The Catholic Encyclopedia. Vol. 11. (New York: Robert Appleton Company, 1911.) <http://www.newadvent.org/cathen/11272a.htm>. Accessed May 29, 2024.
[ii] Fr. V.J. Matthews, St. Philip Neri: Apostle of Rome and Founder of the Congregation of the Oratory, (Charlotte: TAN Books, 1984.), p. 99-100.
[iii] Holly Ordway, Tolkien’s Faith: A Spiritual Biography, (Elk Grove Village, IL: Word on Fire Academic, 2023), p. 71.
[iv] Ibid, p. 69.
[v] Ibid, p. 209.
[vi] J.R.R. Tolkien, The Fellowship of the Ring, Prologue.
[vii] Ibid.
[viii] Ibid.