What Do Lord of the Rings and Les Misérables Have In Common? (Guest Chapter by Sam J.O. Melton)

(Soundtrack Suggestion: “Now and For Always” - Lord of the Rings the Musical)  

An Exploration of Art, Truth, and Beauty   I grew up desperately desiring to be an artist. I wanted it so bad. If you had asked me what I wanted to be as a young child (after “lion” was off the table), I would’ve answered that I wanted to be a cartoonist; in elementary and middle school, a film actor; in high school, a performer in Broadway musicals; and, in college, a comedy writer. But, as my faith grew and my worldview developed, I began to ask myself, “What does an artist or art itself actually contribute to society?” And my black-and-white conservative Christian mind couldn’t find a specific Bible verse or sermon with a good answer so my answer became “Nothing. The artist and art itself contributes nothing to society.” To me, art became the cherry on top of the ice cream sundae of society—delicious and enjoyable but ultimately unnecessary.  

But years passed and I became a husband and, later, a children’s pastor. According to my own theories, I did not need art and, yet, I still craved it. I also became part of many fandoms. Arguably, too many. Or, at least, too many to commit to buying collectables for. But, if you ask any of my friends where my nerd allegiance truly lies, they will know with absolute certainty that the answer is the Lord of the Rings and Les Misérables.  

The first encounter I had with the Lord of the Rings was watching the first film on home video in 2002. I was only six years old and I understood very little of what was occurring in the story. When I saw Frodo Baggins’ Elven sword, Sting, glow blue when the evil orcs were near, I just remember thinking “Why does he have a lightsaber?” By 2003, I had watched the first two films essentially on repeat on my DVD player and saw the third film, The Return of the King, at least five times in theaters. But even from my very first viewing, I was enthralled by the Lord of the Rings (if not bewildered by some of the more complex story elements).  

As I aged, I retained my love for the Lord of the Rings but, in 2011, my best friend introduced me to another story that would change my life forever. Les Misérables (or “Les Miz” for short) was originally a novel published by French writer Victor Hugo in 1862 and has since been adapted into dozens of movies and TV shows and a very popular Broadway and West End musical. I remember first listening to the highlight CD of Les Misérables The Complete Symphonic Recording in my bedroom as a freshman in high school; I remember feeling like I was being swept into the water listening to Javert (made iconic by Philip Quast) throw himself into the Seine. Likewise, my blood pulsed through my veins listening to the brave revolutionary, Enjolras (sung by the magnificent Anthony Warlow), harken other rebels to his cause. If the Lord of the Rings began my exploration of wonder and heroism as a child, Les Misérables joined in the fight as I grew into a teenager.  

Even years later, I still have a deep love for both stories. In fact, if you were to look on my nightstand, you will still find me reading either Les Misérables or the Lord of the Rings (well, technically The Silmarillion since I’ve read the original three books plus the Hobbit). So, when I was a husband and pastor who didn’t believe that I needed any book other than the Bible- why did I cling to these and so many other stories? Why did I find myself clinging to art?  

This question bothered me so much that I spent about a year trying to come up with an answer. It wasn’t until my wife and I were driving home from a friend’s house that my mind finally processed one. I realized that, while art may not put food in our fridges or gas in our cars, it does something essentially as important. I concluded that art answers some of life’s most difficult questions using truth and beauty. This means that art is definitely not meaningless; it fulfills a critical function in society! 

Art, songs, and stories move emotions and convey messages in ways that normal dialogue and even normal life experiences can’t. C.S. Lewis describes art as enabling us “to see with other eyes, to imagine with other imaginations, to feel with other hearts, as well as with our own.” I believe this may be one of the reasons why Jesus spoke so often in parables and why the Old Testament is largely narrative-driven. It’s one thing for a person to be told the truth, but they may ingest that same truth far more deeply if it is creatively and beautifully unfolded in front of them.  

For example, King David of Old Testament fame had an affair with the wife of one of his top soldiers, impregnated her, and killed her husband to cover it up. To address this grave sin, God sent his prophet, Nathan, to David with not just a message but a story. Nathan told David a story of a rich man who owned many sheep and a poor man who owned just one lamb that he loved like a son. In the story, the rich man hosted a dinner for a guest and chose to take the poor man’s single sheep away for slaughter instead of killing one of his many, many sheep. When David heard this story, he was incensed. The Bible says that David’s 

“5...anger was greatly kindled against the man, and he said to Nathan, “As the Lord lives, the man who has done this deserves to die, 6and he shall restore the lamb fourfold, because he did this thing, and because he had no pity.”  (2 Sam. 12:5b-6). 

It was at that moment that Nathan turned David’s rage against him by proclaiming “You are the man!” (2 Sam. 12:7).  

What was David’s reaction? His anger (and probably his ego) died as he replied, “I have sinned against the Lord.” (2 Sam. 12:13). Do you think David would have responded with such humility if Nathan had just accused him? Perhaps. But I believe God used the story of the two men to prepare David’s heart for repentance and growth. And, you know what? I believe God does the same things with stories and art today.  

So, how did God use Les Misérables and the Lord of the Rings to answer some of my life’s questions using truth and beauty? After all, the two are so different; the Lord of the Rings is a high fantasy tale set in the magical realm of Middle Earth in its third age while Les Misérables, though still fictional, is grounded in the history of nineteenth century France and the social, economic, and religious ills plaguing the society at that time. Besides the fact that they are both considered classic literature and epics, both of the authors, J.R.R. Tolkien and Victor Hugo, espoused a faith somewhat similar to my own while writing their stories. 

While writing Les Misérables, Victor Hugo would’ve been considered a deist (someone who believes in a god but not a specific religion’s god) and his work reflects those values when he wrote that “[Les Misérables] is a drama, whose leading personage is the Infinite” (The Infinite was Hugo’s term for God in the novel). J.R.R. Tolkien even went so far as to call the Lord of the Rings a “fundamentally religious and Catholic work” even though it lacked explicit references or even allegories to Christianity. 

While I shared some of the beliefs of both authors, there was still a world of difference between what I, the son of a Baptist pastor, the diestic Hugo, and the staunchly Catholic Tolkien believed. Moreover, to say that the Lord of the Rings and Les Misérables are religious stories and that therefore, I, as a Baptist Christian, liked them accordingly would merely be skimming the surface of the impact these stories had on my life and the love that I have for them even years later. Not to mention that it would be only a fraction of the truth.  

At the very least, both Les Misérables and the Lord of the Rings are obviously works of great fiction that feature many instances and characters where and in whom truth is put on full display in a full array of beauty. It’s likely anyone reading this book probably agrees that these stories and many of their adaptations are generally considered beautiful but I’d also posit that they contain vast amounts of truth. 

This truth is lived out through the virtues of Frodo as he carries the One Ring and Jean Valjean as he spends years denying himself and his own desires for the sake of those around him. Both Frodo and Valjean are surrounded by a veritable crowd of sublimely-crafted figures who express truth through their strengths. Examples of this include Faramir who denies ultimate power when he says, “I would not take [the One Ring], if it lay by the highway” and Bishop Myriel who gives up his own valuables to save Valjean and says, “Jean Valjean, my brother, you no longer belong to evil, but to good. It is your soul that I buy from you; I withdraw it from black thoughts and the spirit of perdition, and I give it to God."  

Moreover, we as the audience are shown truth not only by characters who personify it but also by characters who act as its foils. The powerful wizard Saruman shows us what Gandalf the Wise might be like if he weren’t honest and selfless. The vile innkeeper-turned-thief Thenardier and the relentless Inspector Javert contrast Jean Valjean’s new sense of generosity and grace by personifying greed and mercilessness. And Bill Ferny in the town of Bree shows us how not to take care of a horse. These stories act as beautiful windows through which to see truth lived out.  

However, my appreciation for these two works goes beyond character and plot analysis; the level at which the Lord of the Rings and Les Misérables impacted me was marrow deep. In essence, the truth lived out by the characters and their stories made the truth more alive in me.  

One of my first major experiences with death was when my Aunt Sherry died. She was a joyous lady for whom I had a genuine love and deep affection. I remember hearing the news from my father that she wasn’t going to make it through the night and, truth be told, I wasn’t sure how to respond. I hadn’t faced death like this before. I went to what I knew: my faith and my stories. My faith told me that death wasn’t the end and that “...to be absent from the body...” was “...to be present with the Lord...” (2 Cor. 5:8). 

But that legitimate truth was cold comfort for a scared and grieving teenager. So, I resorted to what Jean Valjean did when he was scared for the life of someone he cared about in the musical adaptation of Les Misérables; I sang Bring Him Home. Quietly, off-key, and flat, I sang it and I meant it. I wanted God to bring Aunt Sherry home. Truly, I wanted Aunt Sherry to go home to her house healthy or to her eternal home in heaven peacefully—I just wasn’t sure how to say or pray it. In that moment, that piece of story from a musical was more than a song, it became the truth lived out in my life.  

Another moment of crisis struck years later when one of the people I loved most in the world—my grandma—was passing away. I couldn’t stop wishing to God that it just wasn’t happening, not to her, not to me, and not right now. It was at that heart wrenching moment that I remembered what Gandalf said to Frodo when he lamented carrying the One Ring,  

“...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 us.”  

In that moment of chaos, that speck of truth from a story gave me what I needed- a quiet reminder of Who is really in control and what I was supposed to do.  

These two moments may be two deeply emotional experiences in my life, but they are only two examples of the many stories and pieces of art (though Les Misérables and the Lord of the Rings foremost) that have helped me remember and live out truth when just remembering the facts of the truth wouldn’t do. Truthful and beautiful art has walked me through some of life’s most difficult moments and helped me see the truth and beauty of my Creator more clearly.  

But, then again, is that the purpose of all creation? In the Bible, one of the first roles in which we see God is that of Creator in Genesis when He creates the entire world and everything in it. From day one, His creation has served a single purpose: to give glory back to its Creator. Scripture tells us this in Psalm 19:1 “The heavens declare the glory of God, and the sky above proclaims His handiwork.” Jesus Himself even says so in Luke 19:40: "I tell you, if these [people] were silent, the very stones would cry out." If that weren’t enough, Paul confirms that God reveals Himself through His creation in Romans 1:20. The meaning of this is deeper than merely thinking “Oh man, those mountains and trees are so beautiful- there must be a God!” God didn’t just create mountains and trees, He created logic, reason, and truth which means that those, too, point back to Him. Or, as Augustine says, “All truth is God’s truth.”  

The Lord of the Rings and Les Misérables brought God’s truth to life in a way that no other manmade work has before or since. I was even fortunate enough to meet the creators of the musical adaptation of Les Misérables, Alain Boublil and Claude-Michel Schönberg, and express this sentiment by thanking them and telling them that God used their work to make me a better man. Funnily enough, I then asked for a picture and autograph and Mr. Schönberg replied, “Well, after that, how can we not?”  

Was communicating the truth and beauty of God and life the original purpose that Tolkien or Hugo intended for their works? Impossible to say for sure, but I believe that God can use art and artists like this for His greater authorial intent. As I wrote earlier, to attribute my zeal for the Lord of the Rings and Les Misérables solely due to their religiosity would be merely skimming the surface. The effects of these two magnificent works on my life are more akin to the effects of Michelangelo on the piece of white marble that became David. However, in this analogy, I consider the Lord of the Rings the hammer and Les Misérables the chisel in the hands of the greatest Creator there ever was.  

 --  Sam Melton is a children’s pastor, author, performer, tea lover, and nerd. He grew up in Boston, Massachusetts and graduated from Boston Baptist College before moving to Tennessee in 2019. Sam worked as a school teacher for a few years before entering into children’s ministry at Calvary Baptist Red Bank in Chattanooga, TN. Over the course of his life, Sam has aimed to unite his faith with his love of all manner of fandom (such as is written in this book). In 2024, he published the tabletop role-playing game Brave Wanderers. You can hear Sam on the tabletop role-playing podcast, Minions & Misfits. Sam dedicates this chapter to his new baby daughter, Ella.