in search of areté

It is difficult at times, as a Christian, to know how to think about the Law. Paul makes clear that the Law is not sin and yet knowledge of the Law resulted in him sinning:

What shall we say then? Is the Law sin? May it never be! On the contrary, I would not have come to know sin except through the Law; for I would not have known about coveting if the Law had not said, ‘YOU SHALL NOT COVET.’
But sin, taking opportunity through the commandment, produced in me coveting of every kind; for apart from the Law sin is dead.
I was once alive apart from the Law; but when the commandment came, sin became alive and I died;
and this commandment, which was to result in life, proved to result in death for me;
for sin, taking an opportunity through the commandment, deceived me and through it killed me.” – Rom 7.7-11

So the Law is not sin but the Law results in sin. How does that work?

My understanding – or at least harmonization – of this is helped by no less a theologian than Samwise Gamgee. In discussion with Faramir, Sam tries to explain the Lady Galadriel to him; Faramir has just called her “perilously fair”:

‘I don’t know about perilous,’ said Sam. ‘It strikes me that folk takes their peril with them into Lórien, and finds it there because they’ve brought it. But perhaps you could call her perilous, because she’s so strong in herself. You, you could dash yourself to pieces on her, like a ship on a rock; or drownd yourself, like a hobbit in a river. But neither rock nor river would be to blame.’”

This explains the nature of the Law to me as clearly as anything. It demonstrates the inevitable sin, peril, and power of the Law upon the individual but also finds great value, beauty, and holiness in the Law.

So Paul can say,

So then, the Law is holy, and the commandment is holy and righteous and good.” – Rom 7.12

. . . and we can say, “Amen.”

To be a One-Eyed Jack is to wear a mask. It is to give an appearance of what one is not and to hide the reality of what one is. It is common in the world, too common in the church, and illustrated vividly in Middle-earth. It is to the latter that we now turn for examples, remembering that we should never underestimate the value of a bad example.

Four individuals from Middle-earth will be adduced to demonstrate the nature of One-Eye Jacks, two in this post and two in the last of this series; of these four, only one resists the temptation while the remaining three exemplify such duplicity tragically. The former is likely unknown to many of the readers of this blog while the latter are familiar names and characters from the Third Age of Middle-earth.

Húrin

The Helm of Hador dates back to the First Age of Middle-earth, when Morgoth (formerly called Melkor, the foremost of the Valar prior to his fall and casting out) sought to become the Lord of Arda, i.e., the earth. Sauron, Morgoth’s powerful second-in-command, created the One Ring to rule but, as Tolkien wrote in Morgoth’s Ring, the Ring of Morgoth was the whole of Middle-earth.

In Unfinished Tales, Tolkien describes the Helm of Hador:

That helm was made of grey steel adorned with gold, and on it were graven runes of victory. A power was in it that guarded any who wore it from wound or death, for the sword that hewed it was broken, and the dart that smote it sprang aside . . . Upon its crest was set in defiance a gilded image of the head of Glaurung the dragon; for it had been made soon after he first issued from the gates of Morgoth. Often Hador, and Galdor after him, had borne it in war; and the hearts of the host of Hithlum were uplifted when they saw it towering high amid the battle, and they cried: ‘Of more worth is the Dragon of Dor-lómin that the gold-worm of Angband!’”

Glaurung was the greatest dragon of the First Age and in service to Morgoth. He did great harm to the elves and men that opposed the Lord of Angband (as Morgoth’s empire was called). Hithlum was an elvish realm in northwest Middle-earth; Dor-lómin was one of the two provinces of that realm.

The Helm of Hador passed down from Hador to Galdor and eventually to Húrin; it came into Húrin’s possession when his older brother, Huor, was slain in battle. Húrin, however, did not prefer to wear the Helm:

But Húrin did not wear the Dragon-helm with ease, and in any case he would not use it, for he said: ‘I would rather look on my foes with my true face.’”

Here is a remarkable illustration of the sort of transparent character to be applauded and emulated. Although the Helm would certainly have protected Húrin in battle, he refused to use it and to appear to be more than he was. It might have served him well when he was captured and tortured by Morgoth but, then again, it might have so weakened his character (by its pretense) that he would have been unable to stand in defiance against the evil of Morgoth.

Sauron

In the Second Age of Middle-earth, after Morgoth had been chained and his mantle of evil passed to his underling, Sauron came as a One-Eyed Jack to the elves. As most know, it was the elves of the region of Eregion that forged the Rings of Power:

Three Rings for the Elven-kings under the sky,
Seven for the Dwarf-lord in their halls of stone,
Nine for Mortal Men doomed to die . . .”

The elves of Eregion were great craftsmen in their own right, but from Sauron they learned even more, for he was expert in the crafting of precious things. Tolkien describes the duplicity and hidden malice of Sauron in Letter 131 (The Letters of J.R.R. Tolkien):

There arose a friendship between the usually hostile folk (of Elves and Dwarves) for the first and only time, and smithcraft reached its highest development. But many of the Elves listened to Sauron. He was still fair in that early time, and his motives and those of the Elves seemed to go partly together: the healing of desolate lands.”

Tolkien provides more details of the seduction by and masquerade of Sauron in his chapter “The History of Galadriel and Celeborn” in Unfinished Tales. Here the deceit of Sauron and his ability to turn the strengths of his enemies into weakness to be exploited is made more clear. After Sauron assumed “the fairest form he could contrive,” he eventually came to Eregion where Galadriel and Celeborn ruled at that time. Tolkien writes:

In Eregion Sauron posed as an emissary of the Valar, sent by them to Middle-earth . . . or ordered by them to remain there to give aid to the Elves. He perceived at once that Galadriel would be his chief adversary and obstacle, and he endeavoured therefore to placate her, bearing her scorn with outward patience and courtesy . . . Sauron used all his arts upon Celebrimbor and his fellow-smiths, who had formed a society or brotherhood, very powerful in Eregion . . . but he worked in secret, unknown to Galadriel and Celeborn . . So great became his hold . . . that at length he persuaded them to revolt against Galadriel and Celeborn and to seize power in Eregion . . .

“Celebrimbor was not corrupted in heart of faith, but had accepted Sauron as what he posed to be; and when at length he discovered the existence of the One Ring he revolted against Sauron . . .

“When Sauron learned of the repentance and revolt of Celebrimbor his disguise fell and his wrath was revealed . . .”

Several things should be noted at this point. First, although Galadriel was not deceived by Sauron’s cunning, others in Eregion saw his behavior toward her and thought well of him. Second, Celebrimbor was a good-hearted individual but failed to discern the other side of Sauron, the one-Eyed Jack. Third, when he was exposed, then the full face of Sauron was revealed to all and his wrath and revenge was unleashed without pretense or disguise.

Returning to Letter 131, we additionally learn,

Sauron found [the Elves'] weak point in suggesting that, helping one another, they could make Western Middle-earth as beautiful as Valinor [the realm of the Archangelic Valar]. It was really a veiled attack on the gods, an incitement to try and make a separate independent paradise.”

Although too involved to discuss here, Sauron also deceived the men of the island kingdom of Númenor: he gained the trust of the kings, advised them deceitful, and eventually prompted them to a revolt that resulted in the destruction of the island and the fleeing of faithful Númenoreans to Middle-earth.

The application for the church is apparent, especially with regard to those pastors or power-brokers among the flock who seek to establish their own agendas and purposes. Lost in such dominions are the purposes of God, who has provided His people and shepherds with clear instructions concerning what the church is to be about and how it is to be governed.

The desire for power and dominion, masked and veiled by a desire to assist God in the accomplishment and establishment of His kingdom, is dangerous. As mentioned above, He has told us what is required. It is our place to work and behavior in such a manner that we facilitate the work of the Holy Spirit and leave the results to God. The words of Gandalf to Denethor are appropriate here:

I will say this: the rule of no realm is mine, neither of Gondor nor any other, great or small. But all worthy things that are in peril as the world now stands, those are my care. And for my part, I shall not wholly fail of my task, though Gondor should perish, if anything passes through this night that can still grow fair or bear fruit and flower again in days to come. For I also am a steward. Did you not know?”

As I have noted elsewhere, this is an incredible statement. Gandalf is saying that even if everything fails he will not have failed if but one small thing survives to produce goodness in days to come. The wizard is expressing considerable faith in the power of Eru (God) to accomplish his purposes and remarkably humility in that he is willing to appear a failure in the eyes of others if such are the purposes of God. Should this not be the attitude of every pastor, i.e., a commitment to do all and only that which God has prescribed and proscribed, allowing the outcome to be solely in His hands? Would that it were so, for those in the pulpits and pews.

My own attempt to apply this standard has taken the following form: I have altered the words of Gandalf to personalize his faith and humility, transforming it into a statement to which I hope to aspire:

I will say this: the rule of no church is mine, neither my church home nor any other, great or small. But all worthy things that are in peril as the world now stands, those are my care. And for my part, I shall not wholly fail of my task, though my church home should perish, if anything passes through my life that can still grow fair or bear fruit and glorify God again in days to come. For I also am a steward. Did you not know?”

Next (and lastly): Pulpits, Pews & One-Eyed Jacks: Saruman, Denethor & ?

The Body of Christ teeters on the brink of dismemberment: we are fractured into so many different and differing segments that anything even remotely resembling unity is almost impossible to find and even more difficult to sustain.

We tell ourselves and one another that we are divided because of adherence to the truth: we have it and others do not; hence, fellowship and communion with those of different belief systems are difficult. Indeed, in some corners of Christendom those who do not hold to a particular dogma or theological schema are regarded as heretics and their salvation is doubted, if not outright denied.

But Jesus Christ, while embodying truth in His life, did not make truth the greatest good or the litmus test of true spirituality. He made it important, to be sure, but He regarded other qualities to be of greater import. “By this all men will know that you are My disciples,” Jesus declares in Jn 13.35, “if you have love for one another.” Not if you have the truth and teach it to one another, but if you have love for one another.

We seldom have trouble loving those who subscribe to the same set of beliefs as we; we are challenged, though, when we encounter Christians who not only hold to different doctrines but seem to be able to defend and support them biblically. We can argue with their hermeneutics, perhaps, but these less-than-truth-knowing believers are difficult to love. Doctrines and beliefs contrary to our own can be unsettling and unnerving; we do not like them and do not like those who espouse them.

But Jesus calls us to love them just the same. This is no easy calling: I want to evaluate others according to my standards of truth, first judging whether or not they are worthy of my love. You know, the “pearls before swine” test.

Even as Jesus emphasizes love, He further stakes His reputation and witness on our ability as believers to manifest unity. In His prayer recorded in Jn 17.20-23, Jesus makes the following request of the Father:

I do not ask on behalf of these alone, but for those also who believe in Me through their word; that they may all be one; even as You, Father, are in Me and I in You, that they also may be in Us, so that the world may believe that You sent Me. The glory which You have given Me I have given to them, that they may be one, just as We are one; I in them and You in Me, that they may be perfected in unity, so that the world may know that You sent Me, and loved them, even as You have loved Me.” (emphases mine)

These are remarkable and troubling words. As the unbelieving world sees the unity of Body of Christ, they are enabled to know two things: (1) that Jesus Christ was sent by the Father, and (2) that God loves Christians even as He loves Christ. It is remarkable because so much is dependent upon the unity of the Christian community; it is troubling because so much is dependent upon the unity of the Christian community.

We often mistake uniformity for unity, believing that we must all think, act, worship, and “be spiritual” in some arbitrarily determined fashion. Uniformity is not unity; unity necessitates differences that are accepted, welcomed, and embraced – via love – that in turn bind us together to function as a healthy reflection of the unity and love in the Godhead.

We claim it is truth that causes divisions, but perhaps we are deceived.

As the Fellowship of the Ring Рminus Gandalf, who has by now fallen in battle with a Balrog in Moria Рenters the wondrous Elven realm of Lothl̫rien, it is required that Gimli the dwarf be blindfolded so that he may not know the way to the haven deep within the forest. Animosity between the Elves and Dwarves has persisted for ages in Middle-earth and, in times of tension and lingering threats, the Elves do not trust Gimli even though he was chosen by Elrond Half-elven. Seeking to maintain the unity of the Fellowship, Aragorn wisely demands that all its members be blindfolded along with Gimli, even Legolas the Elven prince.

‘Alas for the folly of these days!’ said Legolas. ‘Here all are enemies of the one Enemy, and yet I must walk blind, while the sun is merry in the woodland under leaves of gold!’

“‘Folly it may seem,’ said Haldir. ‘Indeed in nothing is the power of the Dark Lord more clearly shown than in the estrangement that divides all those who still oppose him.’” (emphasis mine)

The fears and folly of the Free People of Middle-earth are replicated in the Church of God: we share a common Enemy and a common Lord, and yet we treat one another with such disdain, disgust, and distrust that – far from showing the world our love for Christ – we display to unbelievers the inability to love even our own brothers and sisters who disagree with us in doctrine, practice, or both.

As Haldir says, the lack of unity does not bring glory to God but rather demonstrates the insidious power of Satan. Our divisions and divisiveness reflect his power, not the power of God.

This is not to say that truth is unimportant; it is to say, however, that there are many truths that fail the test of uniformity but nevertheless can be allowed under the banner of unity in Christ. The eternal destiny of many and ultimate glory of God rest far more on the love and unity we have for one another than on the doctrinal shibboleths by which we isolate ourselves and tear apart the Body of Christ.

It is time for the church to be known not merely for her love of the truth, but for the truth of her love.