When Wizards Get Distracted

or, the fall of Radagast the Brown

“…for, strange indeed though this may seem, the Istari, being clad in bodies of Middle-earth, might even as Men and Elves fall away from their purposes, and do evil, forgetting the good in the search for power to effect it.” (p. 407, Unfinished Tales, “The Istari”)

I’ve been pouring through my copy of Tolkiens’ Unfinished Tales: The Lost Lore of Middle-Earth. It’s been my companion as I try to study up on all the possible answers to the mysteries being unfurled in Amazon’s second season of The Lord of the Rings: Rings of Power.[1]

One of the main mysteries of Rings of Power is the identity of The Stranger, the character played by Daniel Weyman.[2] We know now with some certainty that he’s a wizard, and—[3] according to my research—that leads us to an important conclusion: There were five wizards, or Istari, sent to Middle-earth to stand against the wicked machinations of the evil Sauron, and so it would seem our The Stranger must be one of them.  

Listen: I’m not going to dive deep here on all the lore surrounding the Istari and their origins and purpose. Basic wizard math is about as good as you’re going to get from me. But I do want to reflect on one key point that I keep coming back to in my re-re-reading of all things Tolkien.

These wizards were sent to do good, but their success wasn’t guaranteed.

Yeah, I know, you’re like, “Hey, Eric, ever hear of Saruman the not-so-Wise all up in his one of two towers, what with his utter and complete turn to evil? Read a book, you chump.”

And I’d reply by saying, “Hey, easy there.”   

It’s not Saruman I want to talk about; it’s Radagast the Brown. Of the five wizards, Radagast is the one we know third best—and that’s not saying much about him, which is more or less the same amount Tolkien himself said. Like his fellow Istari, Radagast came into Middle-earth to stand against Sauron. And he did so…kind of…after a fashion.

Radgast was a nature guy; he loved the animals and plants and was known for his knowledge of herbs. In Peter Jackson’s The Hobbit trilogy, Radagast is played by Sylvester McCoy, and the character appears at all times, well, distracted. He plays a minor role, helping our protagonists escape from tough spots, but—as Tolkien implied in his writing—the Brown Wizard fades from the scene.

Here's what Tolkien has to say about him: “…of all the Istari, one only remained faithful [to the mission], and he was the last-comer [Gandalf!]. For Radagast, the fourth, became enamored of the many beasts and birds that dwelt in Middle-earth, and forsook Elves and Men, and spent his days among the wild creatures.” (407)

I’m struck by this description, by the veiled condemnation of this seemingly jolly—if odd—old man. Was it so bad to care for creation? To love the birds and the beasts? He played a part, didn’t he? Sure, he was no Gandalf—but he was no Saruman either.

And after all, aren’t we supposed to find God in all things? The natural world is a prime place for such reflection!

Yet, Tolkien insists that Radagast—and, apparently, inevitably, our dear friend Mr. The Stranger[4]—didn’t remain “faithful” to the mission he was entrusted with. So, how do we make sense of it? And why even bother, what with this being fantasy?

I stumbled upon this passage in prayer not long ago from the Book of Wisdom 13: 1-2.

Foolish by nature were all who were in ignorance of God, and who from the good things seen did not succeed in knowing the one who is, and from studying the works did not discern the artisan; instead either fire, or wind, or the swift air, or the circuit of the stars, or the mighty water, or the luminaries of heaven, the governors of the world, they considered gods.

And I’ll pair it with a sketch of dialogue Tolkien gives us from our pal, Saruman the definitely evil wizard:

“Radagast the Brown!” laughed Saruman, and he no longer concealed his scorn. “Radagast the Bird-tamer! Radagast the Simple! Radagast the Fool! Yet he had just the wit to play the part that I set him.” (411)

That word fool appears in Tolkien and Scripture alike. And what to make of it? What’s foolish about caring for creation? About enjoying the stillness and silence of the natural world?

Well, nothing. Unless we fail to miss the bigger picture. Unless we ignore the creative hand at work in it all. The foolishness, I think, is not the impulse to care; it’s the reticence to see. We are called to find God in all things—but we have to do the work. We have to stay at it. Do we so willfully ignore the God of the birds and beasts? Do we resist the discernment necessary to glimpse the master artisan?

I wonder if that was Radagast’s downfall. Because ultimately, he was—and here’s a bit of that deep lore—Yavanna’s pick, Yavanna who was the Valar (read: minor god) responsible for all growing things. If she wanted Radagast to go to Middle-earth, it only makes sense that he would also care for all growing things. It was in his nature, part of his framing of the mission. Dare we say his vocation!

But perhaps where he went awry was forgetting what those growing things pointed to; he failed to allow his gaze to be lifted up and beyond from what was solely in front of him. He didn’t find God; just all the things. A leaf is a leaf, sure, but a leaf can also be a solitary organism that reminds us that we’re actually all interconnected, all part of one creation and that the Creator desires harmony, peace and compassion for said creation.

And in missing that interconnectedness, he missed the true evil that threatened all: Sauron. If he’d really wanted to care for creation, then he would have been more successful if he’d rooted out the source of all decay. Radagast missed the structural violence, the systemic injustice, the overarching evil that was oppressing all of life. He quite literally missed the forest for the trees. He didn’t allow his individual interests to draw him into relationship with the wider world and its deepest needs.

Our mission, I think—wizardly or not—means we allow these individual loves, these personal passions, the heart of our unique vocations, to springboard us up and into the world, to collide with others in their messiness and needs and to labor together for the greater good.

And that’s why the very last line of the quote I began with is worth a second pass: Let’s not forget the good we actually seek and serve in our efforts to bring it about.

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[1] As an aside, I’ve said it before, but the fact that this show sends me running to my bookshelf to dive deeper into the lore and legends is a real testament to the storytelling happening on the small screen!

[2] This is where I plug my Substack from a few weeks back and the interview I did with Daniel.

[3] Note that here the author pushes imaginary spectacles further up his nose and pulls out a pipe.

[4] Unless he’s Gandalf? But he’s in the East where Gandalf famously never went…

And another thing:

• If you, too, are mourning the loss of the great James Earl Jones, I encourage you to read this excellent tribute by my friend John D. over at America Magazine. Check it out.

• Another pal, Shannon K. Evans, saw a book published this week—her awesome new The Mystics Would Like A Word. You’ll wanna check that out, too.