When J.R.R. Tolkien wrote The Return of the King, he offered more than the final victory of Middle-earth. He revealed a vision of finding hope that endures even in the deepest night, a hope grounded not in success or strength, but in the unshakable goodness that evil cannot reach.
In one of the most moving scenes, Sam Gamgee, weary and broken in the land of Mordor, looks up and sees a single star shining through the clouds. Tolkien writes:
“But even as hope died in Sam, or seemed to die, it was turned to a new strength. . . ”
That glimpse of light does not erase the darkness around him. Yet in that moment, Sam understands that there is beauty beyond the reach of despair. There is still good in this world, and it is worth fighting for.
Tolkien’s imagination gives this moment its depth. For him, hope is not wishful thinking or escape from suffering. It is a theological virtue, a quiet participation in God’s faithfulness. In every story he wrote, Tolkien saw reflections of what he called eucatastrophe—the sudden, joyful turn when grace breaks through when all seems lost.
Sam’s star is one of these moments. It reminds us that the light is real, and no shadow can destroy it. Hope is not optimism, but trust in reality as God has made it: good, purposeful, and redeemed.
This pattern of light in darkness echoes the spirit of Advent, when the Church waits for the dawn of Christ. The prophet Isaiah spoke to a people in exile:
“Comfort, comfort my people. . . The glory of the Lord shall be revealed, and all flesh shall see it together.”
—Isaiah 40:1–5
Advent teaches us to watch for that glory with patient hearts. Even outside the Advent season, the same call remains: to look for God’s promise in the midst of struggle, to remember that hope does not depend on our control but on His constancy.
St. Paul writes:
“We boast in our hope of sharing the glory of God. . . suffering produces endurance, endurance produces character, and character produces hope, and hope does not disappoint.”
—Romans 5:2–5
In The Return of the King, all despair finds its answer not in power, but in grace. The title itself points to the greater story behind Tolkien’s myth—the return of Christ, the true King. Every moment of redemption in Tolkien’s world is a reflection of this final victory, when mercy restores all things.
As Luke’s Gospel proclaims:
“By the tender mercy of our God, the dawn from on high shall break upon us, to shine on those who sit in darkness and in the shadow of death.”
— Luke 1:78–79
Sam’s star is a sign of what the Christian life always teaches: hope is not fragile. It is sustained by God Himself. We are not the source of our light, but the bearers of it. When all seems lost, faith reminds us that the story is still in the hands of the Author who brings light out of shadow and joy out of sorrow.
Whether during Advent or any season of waiting, we are invited to hold fast to this truth: the light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it.
Suppose the vision of hope that Tolkien paints in The Return of the King—a hope that outlasts despair, darkness, and defeat—speaks to you. In that case, Fr. Robert J. Spitzer’s Happiness, Suffering & Transcendence Quartet offers a complementary framework grounded in Christian thought. Through four rigorously thoughtful volumes, Spitzer explores how suffering and joy, meaning and redemption, transcend mere circumstances:
His work invites us to see our challenges not just as trials, but as opportunities to align with a deeper reality: one shaped by love, faith, and a transcendent purpose that no darkness can fully obscure. Just as Sam Gamgee’s lonely star becomes a beacon in Mordor, Spitzer’s meditation shows how true hope is not wishful fantasy, but a rooted trust in the goodness that evil cannot overcome.