“The Temptation of Invisibility in Modern Life”

The Hobbit Chapter 5: Riddles in the Dark
Chapter Summary

Bilbo becomes separated from the dwarves in the dark goblin tunnels beneath the Misty Mountains. Lost and alone, he crawls through the darkness until his hand touches something unexpected: a ring. Continuing through the tunnels, Bilbo encounters Gollum, a strange creature living on an island in an underground lake. They engage in a riddle contest—if Bilbo wins, Gollum will show him the way out; if Gollum wins, he gets to eat Bilbo. After a tense battle of wits, Bilbo accidentally wins by asking “What have I got in my pocket?” Enraged, Gollum realizes his precious ring is missing and guesses that Bilbo has it. Bilbo accidentally discovers the ring’s power of invisibility and uses it to escape both Gollum and the goblins, eventually reuniting with the dwarves and Gandalf outside the mountain.

“He [Gollum] wanted it because it was a ring of power, and if you slipped that ring on your finger, you were invisible; only in the full sunlight could you be seen, and then only by your shadow, and that would be shaky and faint.”

Introduction: The Ring We All Carry

There’s a reason Gollum wanted that ring. Not just because it made him invisible—but because invisibility felt like power. Slip it on, and you could move through the world untouched, unquestioned, safe from scrutiny. You could watch others without being watched. You could be present without being seen.

Sound familiar?

Most of us don’t have a magical ring, but we’ve perfected our own versions of invisibility. We’ve learned to hide in plain sight—behind carefully curated social media feeds, behind packed calendars that leave no room for deep conversation, behind emotional walls so high that even we’ve forgotten what’s on the other side.

Tolkien understood something profound: the most dangerous powers are the ones that promise safety through separation. The Ring didn’t just make you invisible to enemies—it made you invisible to everyone. Including yourself.

My Ring of Power

In my last gig as a hospice chaplain, I worked for a supervisor who I found intimidating and who threatened my sense of self-worth and confidence. She had a direct, sometimes, caustic approach to supervision. It seemed that very little I did met her expectations. So I fashioned a ring of power out silence, attempts to be the “perfect chaplain,” and, like Gollum, invisibility. I avoided her as much as possible.

But my ring of power robbed me of the spontaneity and sense of humor that my fellow chaplains appreciated. I became a shadow of myself.

The Social Media Mirage

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We post highlights. Victories. Carefully filtered moments that say “I’m fine” or “I’m thriving” or “Look how interesting my life is.” And beneath every post is the unspoken hope: See me. But don’t see too much.

Social media promises connection while delivering a peculiar kind of invisibility. We can be “present” in hundreds of lives without anyone truly knowing us. We can craft a version of ourselves that’s just real enough to be believable, just polished enough to hide the mess. The ring slips on so easily: likes instead of intimacy, followers instead of friends.

The Tyranny of Busyness

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“I’m so busy.” It’s our cultural mantra, our shield, our ring of power.

When we’re busy, we don’t have to answer uncomfortable questions—from others or from ourselves. We don’t have to sit with our thoughts or feelings. We don’t have to risk the vulnerability of simply being with someone without an agenda or exit strategy. Busyness makes us functionally invisible: people can see our shadow rushing past, but never catch up with the substance of who we are.

Emotional Armor

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Perhaps our most sophisticated invisibility is emotional. We’ve learned to be pleasant without being present. To share without revealing. To listen without letting anyone in. We say “I’m fine” so automatically that we forget it’s a choice—the choice to remain unseen, to keep the ring on just a little longer.

These walls aren’t always obvious. They look like strength, independence, having it all together. But underneath, they’re the same desperate wish Gollum had: to be safe from being truly known.

The Paradox: Invisible Yet Desperate to Be Seen

Here’s the cruel irony Tolkien captured so well: even when you’re invisible, you cast a shadow. Even when we’re hiding, we leave traces—the shaky, faint outline of who we really are.

We want connection, but we want it on our terms. We long to be known, but only the parts we’ve approved. We crave intimacy, but we’ll settle for the appearance of it. So we hover in this strange half-state: present but not really there, visible but not really seen.

The Ring promises power, but delivers loneliness. We think we’re protecting ourselves, but we’re actually isolating ourselves from the very thing we need most: to be fully known and still fully loved.

Why We Can’t Help But Reach for the Ring

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It’s not weakness that makes us hide. It’s wisdom—wounded wisdom, maybe, but wisdom nonetheless.

We’ve been hurt by being seen. We’ve been judged, rejected, misunderstood. We’ve learned that vulnerability isn’t always met with kindness. Sometimes showing up fully gets you dismissed or criticized or worse—ignored.

So we slip on the ring. We curate our image. We stay busy. We keep our distance. Not because we’re cowards, but because we’re human. Because invisibility feels safer than the full sunlight of being truly known.

Gollum wanted the ring because it was power. We want our versions of invisibility for the same reason—they give us control in a world that often feels dangerously out of our control.

Living in Full Sunlight

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But here’s what Tolkien knew, and what Bilbo would eventually learn: the Ring doesn’t make you powerful. It makes you less than yourself.

Every time we choose invisibility—the polished persona, the busy schedule, the emotional walls—we trade a piece of our humanity for safety. And the safety isn’t even real. Because that shadow, shaky and faint though it is, is still there. People still sense something’s missing. We still feel the gap between who we are and who we’re pretending to be.

The brave choice, the hobbit choice, is to step into full sunlight. To risk being seen—imperfectly, vulnerably, as we actually are. Not filtered or scheduled or armored, but present.

This doesn’t mean oversharing or forcing intimacy where it isn’t safe. It means being honest about our version of the Ring—whatever form our invisibility takes—and asking ourselves: What am I protecting? And what am I losing by staying hidden?

Conclusion: The Courage to Cast a Clear Shadow

In The Hobbit, Bilbo learns to use the Ring wisely—but his real heroism comes from the moments he chooses not to use it. When he faces Smaug without it. When he stands before his friends and admits what he’s done. When he shows up, fully visible, even when it’s terrifying.

We need that same courage in our ordinary lives. The courage to lower the walls occasionally. To say “I’m struggling” instead of “I’m fine.” To show up on social media—or better yet, in someone’s actual living room—as our messy, uncertain, beautifully human selves.

The Ring will always be tempting. Invisibility will always feel safer than being seen. But the life we actually want—the connection, the belonging, the sense of being truly known—lives on the other side of that temptation.

It lives in full sunlight. Where our shadow might be shaky and faint, but at least it’s ours. At least it’s real.

Tragically, my supervisor died from cancer before I retired. The supervisor I served under during the last months of my hospice chaplaincy before I retired was more easygoing and a pleasure to work with. I came out of the shadows and finished my ministry with the dying with spontaneity and humor that lightened the emotional toll the work took on my fellow chaplains.

Cling to the ring or be seen? That is the question.

Jim Cyr is a retired minister, a spiritual companion, and a storyteller. Learn more about Jim’s spiritual companionship and storytelling at www.jimcyr.com