Avallónnë. Fifth Age. - It may seem to be more than a little self-aggrandizing to refer to myself as a Modern-Day Dúnadan but I do so nonetheless. I will hasten, however, to (a) make clear that I do not lay claim to being The Dúnadan, for that name belongs to Aragorn alone, and (b) explain what I mean by being a Dúnadan.

As we all know, the Dúnedain were the Rangers of the Third Age who patrolled and guarded the vulnerable inhabited lands in Middle-earth. They tended to be isolated much of the time although they did not avoid people and would quickly draw near to like-minded others, whether they were elves, wizards, hobbits, other Dúnedain, or even dwarves. They valued people individually and evaluated them on the basis of personal character, not according to race, kindred, or even - to an extent - creed.

The Dúnedain are not numerous these days or, if they are, not many know about them - including other Dúnedain. We do tend to find one another, however, as though by chance, and a friendship forged is rarely undone. A Dúnadan survives in part by the mere knowledge that he (or she) is not alone, although they may be quite distant from those around them. It is a distance born of difference: a difference of perception, values, and temperament.

The Dúnedain, of course, are Númenoreans, the faithful people who escaped the doom of their island home and set up kingdoms in Middle-earth west of the Anduin in Arnor and Gondor. All of us who claim the Name of Christ are Númenorean but, sadly, not all are Dúnedain: a Dúnadan is more Númenorean than most Númenoreans. We are the same, only more so.

(If that sounds boastful or arrogant, so be it. I cannot deny what I believe to be true and what my life bears witness to. I do not hold my Dúnadan status as a badge of honor or greatness but only as a symbol of greater responsibility. Let others say what they will; I know what my relationship with God is like. It is for Him that I perform. No other opinion matters.)

Most Númenoreans, I fear, are similar to those described by Faramir as he talked to Frodo at The Refuge of Henneth Annûn. He spoke, perhaps as much to himself as to the hobbit, of the difference between Rohan and Gondor, and of the greatness that once belonged to the latter, the lone surviving kingdom of the ancient Númenoreans.

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.”

The blood of Númenor ran more purely in Faramir than in most of his day, including his valiant brother Boromir. Boromir was the very sort of man - a warrior - held in high esteem merely because he was a warrior. This grieved Faramir. And Gandalf. And Aragorn. The hearts of Faramir and Aragorn, and the other Dúnedain, are reflected in Faramir’s later words to Éowyn.

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.”

Much goes on in Middle-earth - this chronological middle-land between heaven and hell - that is of little interest to a Dúnadan. Hobbits squabble amongst themselves, dwarves get up in arms against elves and other dwarves, and men do what men do best - or worst, as the case may be. Most of it is but “sound and fury, signifying nothing” of eternal significance. Or, to put it another way, their activities are of eternal insignificance.

Those of us who, due to no merit of our own, find ourselves to be among the Dúnedain have a troublesome and troubling mission. It is troublesome for us and troubling for others; the latter gives birth to the former.

I will close for now. Next I hope to discuss those difference of which I earlier spoke and of the troublesome and troubling nature of a Dúnadan’s largely invisible life.

Avallónnë. Fifth Age. - So who exactly are we, this arrogant-sounding group of Christians that I liken to the Dúnedain of the Third Age of Middle-earth? What is a Modern Day (Fifth - or Sixth - Age) Dúnadan? And what is this troubling and troublesome task of which I spoke?

As I said before, we are just like every other Christian, only more so. The intensity is especially evident in our perception of things, our values and evaluations, and our temperaments. Of those three, only the latter is something over which we do not have any initial choice, although we do have or should have sufficient subsequent control. And those of differing temperaments can develop latent qualities within themselves, even as a Ranger should seek to broaden his or her own range of skills.

The key factor in a Dúnadan’s perception is that he does not only see a spiritual element in some things of this life but in all things of a person’s experience. There is nothing, in the mind of a Dúnadan, that does not have spiritual importance, influence, or significance. As Maximus said to his soldiers, what we do in this life echoes throughout eternity. That is the perception of a Dúnadan: not just some things are spiritual; all things are spiritual. This was the view of Tolkien, Lewis, Schaeffer, and others throughout the last century, and for many, many others throughout the history of God’s people, whether the Jews of the Old Testament or the Christians of the New.

To live is to be at war, whether one is a believer or not: a spiritual war rages every moment of every day. There is no peace, no truce. Spiritual forces unseen to us engage one another constantly in a cosmic struggle of good versus evil. What we do here, in this life, affects what goes on there. More importantly, what transpires in the spiritual realm affects us, too. The outcome is not in question but the battle continues regardless: a dying grizzly bear is a dangerous thing to be around; a fatally wounded, spiritual Enemy is extremely perilous as long as he draws breath.

It is not necessary for one to be aware of the war for the war to endure. Many are ignorant of it or, in the case of believers, choose to ignore it. In the Third Age levels of awareness ranged from the oblivious hobbits - who not only were unaware of any danger but also ignorant of those who protected them - to the Rangers themselves, who saw the battle daily and dealt with it continually. Between the two extremes were dwarves, the Riders of Rohan, men of Gondor, and the elves. Only the wizards, who were incarnate angels, had more intimate knowledge of and conflict with the forces of evil.

The values of a Ranger or Dúnadan are not any different than those of any other Númenorean, i.e., true Christian: they are only more broadly, thoroughly, and deeply applied. Nothing in life is neutral: things either benefit the kingdom we are sworn to serve or they do not. Not to do the good is to allow the evil to endure and progress. A Dúnadan seeks to view every word, deed, relationship, and activity from an eternal perspective, regardless of what others say or do.

Biblical values are the grid, filter, or worldview through which all believers are commanded to see life. A Dúnadan does it regularly and with an insatiable desire to do it ever-more consistently. Dúnedain fail every day and know the consequences of their failures. We thank God that He can work through us despite our ineptness. He only requires that we be diligent, vigilant, and available.

A Ranger’s temperament is characterized perhaps most of all by a certain indefatigableness, a quiet tenacity, or fierce resolve. You don’t get to quit if you are a Christian; Dúnedain know this and relish it: it is what enables them to keep getting up no matter how many times they are knocked to the ground. If Jesus kept going despite all that He suffered and endured, how can we aspire to anything less? Our burden and fight is nothing compared to His, and He has given us the same Holy Spirit who enabled and strengthened Him throughout His earthly ministry. We have no excuses; a Ranger wants none and offers none.

There is also an air of reluctant courage or determination about a Dúnadan: they speak up even when there is little hope that their words will have a positive effect. They understand their job as a messenger as well as a guardian. Like Jephthah, a Dúnadan desires to resolve things as peacefully as possible; also like Jephthah, however, a Dúnadan will go to war if necessary.

A Dúnadan does not seem to be especially friendly at times but is a loyal and good friend. He or she will stand with you even when they know you are wrong, only to confront you later in love and privacy. Jonathan stood with David even though the son of Jesse was the man who would take the throne that Jonathan might have claimed for his own. And Jonathan stood by his father, Saul, and died with him even though he knew his father had forfeited the kingdom through sin. Jonathan was a Dúnadan of the First Order.

The role model of a Ranger is not Aragorn but Faramir. Aragorn was the crownless one who would be king and his mission was to fight for, claim, and establish his own kingdom. In this quest, Aragorn clearly was a type of Christ. Faramir, however, sought no kingdom: he understood his role as a steward, a lesser figure, one who did all to secure and facilitate the success of the king whom he loved and served. As such, he was a type of a disciple or steward. His mission was to complete his work and to hand the profits and rewards over to the king. He understood that he was owed nothing in return and even that his own life was secondary to the purposes of the king.

The Dúnadan seeks no glory for himself but only an opportunity to bear witness to the king. This leads to a final dimension of a Ranger - that having to do with the troubling and troublesome nature of his or her life - and one that will be developed briefly in the next post.

Avallónnë. Fifth Age. - A Dúnadan’s life is troubling and troublesome, at once troubled and troubling. It seems that the two are inseparable.

The conflict arises because the path, mission, or life’s work of a Dúnadan is troublesome or troubling to others; this, in turn makes it troubled and troubling for the Dúnadan. Since it is the work of a Dúnadan to guard others even when they don’t feel the need to be guarded, and to correct them even when they have asked for no correction, life becomes complicated for all involved.

Most commonly, however, a Dúnadan is troubled and troubling by just being who he or she is. Because they see things differently, having a different perspective and evaluative grid, they don’t seem to fit in and never blend in for long. They are the ones who have a different, “deeper” or “too spiritual” view of things at Bible studies. Without trying, they pose a threat to cherished traditions by asking if there is a biblical warrant or allowance for them. Once again, they disturb the comfortable without even meaning to just by being themselves: they are spiritual iconoclasts. It is not what they intend to do but a result of how they see things, and they genuinely believe that what they are saying will benefit those to whom they’re speaking. Many, if not most, Dúnedain are not intentionally trying to upset anyone; in fact, they are often surprised - or hurt - that someone has taken offense or is angry.

Every Dúnadan’s purpose is determined by what God has revealed in Scripture. Knowing that infallibility is a quality of the Bible and not the one reading the Bible, a Ranger nevertheless speaks with a settled yet tentative confidence. His function is similar to that of the inner ear of the body: it is to maintain balance and to alert other parts of the body to do what is necessary to continue balancing itself. The other parts of the body do not, on an individual basis, always welcome this correction: it is sometimes met with anger and rejection.

So it is with the role of the Dúnadan: his mission is to keep the body balanced, not to point out to others that they are wrong just to prove his own imagined or perceived superiority. This is not always how we come across, unfortunately, nor is it how others respond to us most of the time. And so the conflict begins. Or continues.

The result is that others look at the Dúnadan with a suspicion bordering on contempt, at times, and the Dúnadan is isolated or marginalized as much as possible. This is not at all what the Ranger wants: like everyone else, he or she feels a need to be appreciated and accepted. But a Ranger will not purchase popularity at the cost of faithfulness. And so the Dúnedain are frequently perceived as aloof, arrogant troublemakers. And the individual Ranger feels frustrated and sorrowful - not because of the isolation and rejection but due to the harm he fears will come to others.

It is not always a happy existence; hence, the closeness and strong friendships that develop between two Rangers whenever their paths might cross.

Some have written of late about the inherent conflict between pastors and prophets (prophet being defined in these writings as one who confronts and rebukes the church when it strays, i.e., a Ranger). Such a dichotomy is spurious and perhaps an attempt to justify divisions and discord in the church. Exegetical gymnastics might find a basis for a distinction but the bulk of Scripture does not support it. If a pastor is not correcting and rebuking his flock as needed, then he is not pastoring, no matter what the nameplate on his office door declares. The pastor is responsible to comfort the disturbed and to disturb the comfortable. You don’t get to do one without the other: it is a marriage of love and truth. Not only can a pastor and a Dúnadan complement one another effectively, they can be and often are the same person.

The proof? Well, how did Jesus treat His disciples? Was He a comforter or a confronter? A pastor or a prophet? Obviously, he was both. We are called to no less.

Modern Day Dúnedain, as hinted above, stand in the line of the prophets of the Old and New Testaments. They are not proclaiming new truth or foretelling the future like Isaiah or Malachi; they are not performing miracles or slipping into ecstatic states or trances like Elijah or Nathan. A Dúnadan is a prophet in the sense that she is one who speaks forth the word of God and the truth of God to the people of God. A priest, you will remember, speaks to God on behalf of the people; a prophet speaks to the people on behalf of God.

The gift or role - ultimately, the responsibility - of being a Dúnadan is no different than that which accompanies any of the other spiritual gifts: it is for the building up of the body. All gifts are body gifts and, as such, are meant for the benefit of other members of the body rather than for ourselves. (”One another” is the theme of the New Testament church, not “me, me, me.”) So a Dúnadan is no more - or less - special and necessary to the church than an evangelist or one who practices hospitality. The Dúnedain are stewards of a gift and are charged with being faithful, as is everyone else.

If those of us who are Dúnedain are different at all, it is because of this: we “get it.” If we didn’t “get it” we couldn’t be Rangers and wouldn’t have the gift. By “getting it” I mean two things: first, we “get” it not because we are special or superior in any way but because it comes with the gift. We are not special, I repeat, but are only gifted in a particular way. We are not “better than” simply because we “get it.”

The “it” of “getting it” is the incredible importance of this life. It is the awareness of the spiritual battle, the eternal impact of what we and others do in this life, the haunting fear of a failing church or a falling brother in Christ. “It” is understanding that this truth has to be lived: it is the air we are to breathe, the water that refreshes us, and the food that sustains us. This is the normal Christian life: to be “carried along” or compelled to say or do what we say and do. “It” is to walk in the Spirit, abide in Christ, live by the Spirit, have the word of Christ dwell richly in us, be conformed to the image of Christ, walk even as He walked. It is for all believers, all Númenoreans, not for a select few.

Because we “get it” we don’t really care that much about knowledge for the sake of knowledge ; we especially don’t care about systems of theology that have answers for everything. We know that much of life - of the Christian life - is about learning to live with and ask the right questions. (God is not predictable no matter what your doctrine may demand: He is free and will do as He freely chooses to do. He will not violate His own character and His ways are clearly not our ways.) A Dúnadan has to live by faith because he recognizes the severity of his own limitations and the utter limitlessness of God.

We “get it,” too, because we are more interested in behavior than thinking. Love is the ultimate motivation and the compass by which we - all Christians - are called to live. It is a true love, i.e., a love defined by the truth and character of God - and it is the greatest good because it glorifies God by manifesting His essence. And we “get it” because we know we will never arrive and that we are probably doing less with what we have than others are doing with what they have.

Finally, we “get it” most of all because of the eternal perspective that we didn’t ask for but are compelled to live by. We are very much strangers and aliens in this life, residents of another kingdom. At times a Dúnadan may be guilty of neglecting the “lesser” things of life but this is a mistake: God determines what is important and significant, not us. Dúnedain are intensely involved with this world even as a firefighter is involved in a blaze: it’s not his house that is burning but he will risk his life to save it. We are charged with being faithful in a stewardship that God has determined, not the one we desire or like the most. God has said that this world matters.

But the eternal worldview is paramount. It guides our every step - although we stumble and misstep frequently - and provides us with the direction we implore others to follow. We are often ignored, but that does not change the job description of a Dúnadan in the least. We are called to faithful stewardship and answer to the One who died for us. Like everyone else, we hope to hear “Well done, good and faithful servant . . .” when we behold Christ face-to-face.



Namárië.