Boromir, the ill-fated Captain of Gondor, was valiant and passionate. He was a fearless, good, honorable, devoted man.
In battle, few were his equal in warfare; none among men – save Aragorn and other Dúnedain – surpassed him in strength and power in battle. He was the firstborn son of Denethor II, the Steward of Gondor, and next in line to take over stewardship of the realm in the absence of the king. Boromir was a warrior, deeply committed to the kingdom, and a relentless enemy of Sauron and all others who threatened the safety and security of Gondor and its chief city, Minas Tirith.
When both he and his younger brother had the same prophetic dream, he claimed his right as older brother and went to Rivendell for help. He was at the Council of Elrond, where the wise and mighty gathered to determine what course of action should be followed. The One Ring, the Ring of Power belonging to Sauron – the Lord of the Rings – had been found: it was in the possession of Frodo, the simple hobbit from The Shire, who had brought it to Rivendell. Gandalf, Elrond, Aragorn, Glorfindel, and many other wise and powerful elves and Free People knew the grave danger bound up in the One Ring; they knew, too, that all their hopes of victory and safety lay in the destruction of that very Ring.
Gimli the Dwarf, like Frodo before him, thought that the ring could simply be destroyed by brute force; he failed as his hardened axe shattered like fine glass upon the Ring forged in the volcanic heat of Mount Doom. Others thought it might be best to take the Ring across the sea, while others wondered if Tom Bombadil – that enigmatic figure over which the Ring had no power – might be able to keep the Ring safe. The wise, however, knew otherwise: the Ruling Ring had to be destroyed.
Boromir, however, thought the wise to be foolish. With growing impatience at the Council, the warrior at last revealed his heart.
Boromir stirred, and Frodo looked at him. He was fingering his great horn and frowning. At length he spoke.
“‘I do not understand all this,’ he said. ‘Saruman is a traitor, but did he not have a glimpse of wisdom? Why do you speak ever of hiding and destroying? Why should we not think that the Great Ring has come into our hands to serve us in the very hour of need? Wielding it the Free Lords of the Free may surely defeat the Enemy. That is what he most fears, I deem.
“‘The Men of Gondor are valiant, and they will never submit; but they may be beaten down. Valour needs first strength, and then a weapon. Let the Ring be your weapon, if it has such power as you say. Take it and go forth to victory!’”
Boromir was overruled by the wise, however, as they once more explained that the Ring is altogether evil and would corrupt any one of any race who wore it, regardless of how good and noble their intentions might be. Chosen as one of the nine members of the Fellowship of the Ring, Boromir later isolates Frodo, who carried the Ring on a chain around his neck. He pleads with the Ringbearer,
‘These elves and half-elves and wizards, they would come to grief perhaps [were they to wear the Ring]. Yet often I doubt if they are wise and not merely timid. But each to his own kind. True-hearted Men, they will not be corrupted. We of Minas Tirith have been staunch through long years of trial. We do not desire the power of wizard-lords, only strength to defend ourselves, strength in a just cause. And behold! in our need chance brings to light the Ring of Power. It is a gift, I say; a gift to the foes of Mordor. It is mad not to use it, to use the power of the Enemy against him. The fearless, the ruthless, these alone will achieve victory. What could not a warrior do in this hour, a great leader? What could not Aragorn do? Or if he refuses, why not Boromir? The Ring would give me power of Command. How I would drive the hosts of Mordor, and all men would flock to my banner!’
“Boromir strode up and down, speaking ever more loudly. Almost he seemed to have forgotten Frodo, while his talk dwelt on walls and weapons, and the mustering of men; and he drew plans for great alliances and glorious victories to be; and he cast down Mordor, and became himself a mighty king, benevolent and wise.”
Boromir’s own words betray the weakness of his heart and his lack of knowledge: he was ignorant of the overwhelming power of sin, of his own inability to overcome sin, and of his own pride and arrogance through which the Ring seduced him. He would be “fearless and ruthless,” much like Sauron himself, possessing “power of Command” and enticing all men to “flock to my banner.” He dreamt and fantasized about “great alliances and glorious victories,” and of becoming “a mighty king,” forgetting that the rightful king – Aragorn – was even then en route to lay claim to the throne.
What were Boromir’s flaws? His brother, Faramir – who knew him perhaps better than anyone – admitted to Frodo that he was not surprised that “this Thing” (the Ring) had led to his brother’s death:
‘What in truth this Thing is I cannot yet guess, but some heirloom of power and peril it must be. A fell weapon, perchance, devised by the Dark Lord. If it were a thing that gave advantage in battle, I can well believe that Boromir, the proud and fearless, often rash, ever anxious for the victory of Minas Tirith (and his own glory therein), might desire such a thing and be allured by it.”
Faramir recognizes, too, that the weakness of his brother was the weakness of Gondor. He notes the positive influence the realm of Gondor has had upon the Rohirrim of Rohan, but also reflects with sorrow upon the decline of his own people:
‘Yet now, if the Rohirrim are grown in some ways more like to us, enhanced in arts and gentleness, we too have become more like to them, and can scarce claim the title High. We are become Middle Men, of the Twilight, but with memory of other things. For as the Rohirrim do, we now love war and valour as things good in themselves, both a sport and an end; and though we still hold that a warrior should have more skills and knowledge than only the craft of weapons and slaying, we esteem a warrior, nonetheless, above men of other crafts.’”
Boromir in Our Pews and Pulpits
The blood of Boromir courses through the veins of many Christians in the church today. Make no mistake about it: these are good men and women, deeply devoted to the cause of Jesus Christ, staunch enemies of our Adversary, always ready to give a strong defense for the hope that is within them. They are, like Boromir, true believers and fierce warriors for the Kingdom.
They are knowledgeable people – here is no zeal without knowledge – Christians committed to knowing the Bible and the truths contained therein. Even more, they are vigilant defenders of that truth as they understand it: they are quick to refute and rebuke error whenever and wherever they encounter it; they are eager to make a convert to their own way of living the Christian life. Like Boromir, they are good people: strong apologists and theologians. They have no lack of conviction for the beliefs they hold.
But as one draws near to these Boromirians, it slowly becomes evident that there is something amiss, even as there is something subtly wrong about the consuming desire of Boromir to do anything and everything to protect and advance the kingdom cause. It is not the presence of any particular trait in these Boromirian believers – although they often share Boromir’s pride, impatience, and imperviousness to instruction from others. No, it is much more the absence of something that causes concern.
Boromir was deeply committed to the kingdom, as are the Boromirians today. But Boromir lost his focus: he sought to accomplish the work of the kingdom but failed to realize that his true devotion and commitment was due not to the kingdom, but to the king with whom he journeyed. As Faramir noted, Boromir and his kind have far more in common with the Rohirrim, who glory in the fight. Boromirians love too much the debate, the argument, the contention, the victory; they lose sight of Him whom they serve. They forget to the love the people for whom He died – and died for out of love for both the Father and all people.
Speaking with Éowyn, Faramir reveals his own heart, passion, and devotion:
War must be, while we defend our lives against a destroyer who would devour all; but I do not love the bright sword for its sharpness, nor the arrow for its swiftness, nor the warrior for his glory. I love only that which they defend: the city of the Men of Númenor; and I would have her loved for her memory, her ancientry, her beauty, and her present wisdom. Not feared, save as men fear the dignity of a man, old and wise.”
There is much that feeds our egos and swells our pride when we successfully refute a disagreeing brother or resolutely refuse to be persuaded or influenced by the arguments and reasonings of an unbeliever. Knowledge and power, the rush of confrontation and conflict, can become an end in themselves rather than merely a means to an end.
All our knowledge, our apologetics, theology, and biblical perspectives are good things, but only as means to an end. The end of such things is to evangelize the lost and edify the redeemed. If they are used or viewed as anything other than that, then we have lost sight of the purpose for them: Jesus Christ and His Kingdom, in that order.
The order is critical, since of the two – Christ and the Kingdom – the Lord Jesus Christ is all that really matters. We must remember Whom we serve, not focusing only on the service He has entrusted to us. His call is first and foremost into fellowship, not service: the latter flows freely and naturally from the former. We are servants of the King, not the Kingdom: we serve the Kingdom only because that is what the King has told us to do.
Namárië.
.thumbnail.jpg)
Gandalf, having now returned as Gandalf the White, stands in the Golden Hall of King Théoden listening to the deceit and seduction of Grima, the king’s counselor and Saruman’s mouthpiece. Shortly after halting Gimli, who was advancing on Wormtongue for having referred to Galadriel as “the Sorceress of the Golden Wood,” Gandalf reflects on some verse concerning the Elven queen. We pick up the narrative as the wizard concludes his chorus of praise to Galadriel.
Gandalf, the incarnate angel. One lesson might be that we would do well – or at least do better – not to engage in arguments with people that we don’t respect, for if we feel that way towards them then it is highly likely that they have a similar opinion of us.