Authors Brandon Sanderson and J.R.R. Tolkien are both kings of epic fantasy. So it should be no surprise that both receive their fair share of mentions here.
Catholic podcaster Aaron Irber gives us a reason to discuss both of these literary giants thanks to his recent post on Substack.
There is a big difference between what I would call Sacramental Magic and Technical Magic. I am not married to these terms but I think they capture the gist of the two schools of thought I am trying to distinguish from one another. Sanderson distinguishes Soft from Hard Magic but splits them based mostly on how explicit the magic is and how it influences the plot. Personally, I think the biggest difference between the two is that Sacramental Magic is vertical in that it can point up toward Heaven or down to Hell. Technical Magic is horizontal and tends to conflate magic and science into one mode of attaining and using power.
Technical Magic is not a modern tendency. Magical formulas and compendiums of sorcery have existed for centuries. This systematic type of magic is rooted in the mastery of certain techniques, rigid, quasi-scientific rules, and the desire for power. I am not saying that this kind of magic is inherently bad or immoral in a story. I enjoy stories with this kind of magic. It is a lot like technology in that way. However, I think that it tends to overwhelm the story with its special effects and the meaning behind the magic gets pushed to the side. In short, the power achieved through magical means is arbitrary. The fireball might as well be an energy blast or a lightning bolt. It doesn’t really matter.
Related: How Does Your Magic Work?
Framing Tolkien’s Sacramental Magic as a “magic system” is too thin, too simplistic and doesn’t hit the mark. I imagine someone pulling out a black board of mathematical equations or a periodic table of magical spells with Tolkien’s name written on top. That would be like saying the Catholic faith can be reduced to a series of bullet points about dogma and morals instead of a deep Mystery that pulls you further up and further in with the rules embedded within God’s world building.
I don’t want to be accused of creating an unnecessary dichotomy between Sacramental and Technical Magic. They often can be combined to create a story that is both heavy in explicit coherence and can act as a symbol pointing to something higher or lower. Surely, Tolkien does have Technical Magic in his Legendarium, such as that of Sauron and the One Ring as I mentioned earlier. Sauron mastered a specific technique to produce an item used to consolidate his power. Sarumon was tasked with understanding Sauron’s magic and was corrupted by it.
To borrow a quote from another name author, Dean Koontz, “Stained glass windows don’t have subtitles.”
I think magic is at its best when the meaning is hidden with minimal explanation in the plot. The implicit nature of the magic does not mean it is arbitrary or is incoherent. It should still work by the rules embedded in the world building. In fact, the story should be able to function without explaining all of the rules to the reader. The reader does not have to understand the magic to enjoy the story, but the magic should have enough coherence to draw a reader deeper into the tale. It is also my opinion that the most interesting magic has moral rules and costs.
Again, I want to make it clear that I don’t think Technical Magic in a story is “bad”. I tend to think that if portrayed on it’s own, it can tend to be flat. It can still be fun and entertaining, but I think a story needs Sacramental Magic if the author wants to point to something deeper. As Tolkien shows us, these approaches to magic are not mutually exclusive in a story and should be used together for the best effect.
Related: Neopatron Brandon
I’m not finding much to disagree with in Aaron’s treatment of the magic v sacrament debate.
Here’s a handy formula to help you distinguish between the two:
- Magic = using preternatural means for natural ends
- Sacraments = using natural means for supernatural ends.
For a couple of examples under this model, consulting a fortune teller to find your car keys is magic. Having water poured over you to obtain remission of all your sins and new birth in Christ is a sacrament.
And if you want some pop culture references, Aaron has got Grandpa Tolkien and King Brandon covered, so let’s switch gears to fantasy’s sister branch of adventure fiction: sci fi.
Luke calling upon the Force to help him destroy the Death Star: Magic.
Darth Vader sacrificing himself to save his son and thereby meriting redemption: Sacramentality.
Now, to head off the objection that Vader’s act obtained a natural end, that being saving his son’s life, and he did it while using the Force, so it was magic, keep in mind that a single act can have multiple effects.
What’s significant when it comes to the mgic/sacrament dichotomy is the presence of a supernatural effect resulting from a given act. Anakin obtained slvation by his sacrifice, which is the highest supernatural end a creature can hope for. And it could even be argued that the main fruit of that act as far as Luke is concerned was spiritual. Because remember, the whole reason Luke was prewsent on the second Death Star was to save his father, which was effected by the heroic sacrifice which Luke himself occasioned. So in liturgical terms, the entire sequence in the Emperor’s throne room was a sacrament concelebrated by Luke and Anakin Skywalker.
To dispel any remaining doubts, here’s a review of Return of the Jedi from 1983 written by an Orthodox archbishop.
Darth Vader with the two saints? Of course, for such is the power of repentance, such is that love which grants to him who wrought from the eleventh hour together with those who wrought from the first.
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