In this episode, LCA British Literature teacher, Karen Elliott, discusses her passion for helping students find their faith in literature through the study of Beowulf.
I teach a first-semester British Literature survey course to all the seniors, and whether they’re in AP or Honors, we always begin with the famous, anonymous Beowulf. After all, it’s the oldest, complete manuscript we have in the English language; however, that’s not why we read it (or why I choose to teach it). This is a book where all of my students, their parents, and grandparents can identify. Unfasten the sword and remove all the chain mail, you’ve got the most modern of men—particularly if you claim to believe in God, or the very least, something larger than yourself. It is the first third of the story my seniors like the best because they can identify so much—Beowulf is a smart 18-year-old who has just finished his “senior year” in the Kingdom of the Geats, and he’s looking for some post-grad work or an internship. He is young and has a questionable reputation; he wants to prove everybody wrong (especially his over-protective parents), so he irresponsibly goes overseas to kill a terrorist (a monster named “Grendel”), and then kills the terrorist’s mother (who makes “tiger moms” look like Elmo). He actually succeeds, and then returns home to say “I told you so.”
After that he rules for many years and gains much deserved wealth and material blessings according to his culture and era; however, that’s where the rest of the story actually begins, especially if you’re older, and you’ve gotten past some of those crucial “check-points” of what defines success (at least according to your own terms, and the world’s), and perhaps you’ve even surpassed them.
This is when my students get judgmental and perhaps rightfully so. They can’t identify with the middle-aged Beowulf, and God-willing, I hope they never do. What I like about this text is that it shows an honest journey of a Christian who must “live in the world but not of it,” and yet, slowly and unintentionally, becomes “of it.” As a result, God brings death and destruction upon Beowulf’s renowned career, success and kingdom. What is amazing is that Beowulf proclaims that it was not God’s fault—but all his. In fact, the author claims that this realization “threw the hero in deep anguish and darkened his mood; the man thought he must have thwarted ancient ordinance of the eternal Lord, broken His commandment” (Heaney [trans.] lines 2327-2331). If only we had such righteous, correct instincts about ourselves (and our Instagram postings).
Inevitably this causes some reflection of what kind of man Beowulf was like as he was young when the story begins, and it raises questions as to how he changed. The author (most likely a scop or monk), however, does not share this latter information. The only thing we know is that Beowulf reigned for many years, and that upon his death “they [his loyal kinsmen] said that of all the kings upon the earth he was the man most gracious and fair-minded, kindest to his people and keenest to win fame” (lines 3180-3182). These are the very last lines of the entire text, and yet, due to Beowulf’s hubris, his kingdom, despite his fatal, final battle and securing victory over the dragon, is left to be taken by conquerors—his empire falls. Due to sin, left unchecked, everybody pays. Beowulf’s sin—metaphorically embodied in the dragon—destroys his kingdom; however, we aren’t allowed to hate him for it. The author wants us to “extol his heroic nature” and give “thanks for his greatness” and “cherish his memory” (3173-3177). So, as some of my students say, “What gives?”
That’s exactly it. It was that too many blessings were given to Beowulf for his apparently great attributes. After he killed Grendel, he was given an abundance of material blessings which King Hrothgar warns him to take caution; this is the man who raised his status and income-tax bracket.
