I have finally finished The Fellowship of the Ring. It took me three months at my snail’s pace. I have been dipping in and out of several other books while I worked on this one; for fiction, I read Franzen’s latest, Crossroads- which I hope to write about soon. (Would you believe Franzen can write a brilliant religious novel?!) I dipped into a few volumes in American Religious history and reread some Peter Berger for an essay that you may see this summer. I actually may experiment with reading the second volume of LOTR more quickly, as there are details of the first that I find have escaped me. I’ll keep you posted.
“For I know what I should do, but I am afraid of doing it, Boromir: afraid.”
The Hobbits have reached the tenth day of their journey, and the place where a decision must be made. “They could go no further without choice between the east-way and the west. The last stage of the Quest was before them” (385).
There is a clear sense of foreboding in the air. Frodo mostly feels danger when it is at hand, but when he tests these instincts they are nearly always right. This sense of dread is confirmed when he and Aragorn test a sword and find that it glimmers at its edges, meaning the orcs are at hand.
The Company, the Hobbits plus their traveling companions, must make a decision whether to go west with Boromir and the wars of Gondor, or east “to the Fear and Shadow”. They might also break fellowship and go two separate ways. Frodo struggles with his choice and longs for Gandalf’s steady counsel. “So much depends on you”, says Boromir, to poor Frodo.
Frodo, however, has never been uncertain about his path. He must take the Ring and destroy it so that the habits of war and patterns of destruction will cease all over the Land. Though he knows this is his duty, he still hesitates. He is weighed down by indecision not because he is uncertain of his duty but because he is certain of what his duty will demand.
“For I know what I should do, but I am afraid of doing it, Boromir: afraid.” Frodo states his fear to Boromir and knows immediately that he will be misunderstood. “I think I know already what counsel you would give, Boromir,’ said Frodo. ‘And it would seem like wisdom but for the warning of my heart.’
This warning is ‘Against delay. Against the way that seems easier. Against refusal of the burden that is laid on me. Against- well, if it must be said, against trust in the strength and truth of Men.”
These are the warnings Frodo feels deep in his soul. He indeed already knows what he ought to do. His indecision is rooted only in fear. Frodo realizes how dire is the moment they are in even though his friends do not. In fact his friends often reaffirm this danger by their behavior. He is surrounded by individuals who want just a touch of the Ring. Boromir wants just to “have a sight of it”; and he harasses Frodo by suggesting that his hesitation is overplayed:
“For you seem ever to think only of its power in the hands of the Enemy: of its evil uses not of its good. The world is changing, you say. Minas Tirith will fall, if the Ring lasts. But why? Certainly, if the Ring were with the Enemy. But why, if it were with us?’
Just give the ring to Boromir, he says, and we will make good use of it. Frodo knows from his time at the Council that the Ring is not to be used, and that “what is done with it turns to evil.” (389). Boromir is dreaming of how he could put the Ring to good use; of how he could build walls and utilize weapons and muster men and make alliances and have great victories. He is dreaming of how he could use the Ring for himself. “and they tell us to throw it away!” he declares. “The only plan that is proposed to us is that a halfling should walk blindly into Mordor and offer the Enemy every chance of recapturing it for himself. Folly!”
It is Boromir’s “plan”; certainly rational and sensible given the facts on the ground, that hardens Frodo’s resolve. In Boromir’s deception the Ring’s power is again confirmed.
Frodo even puts on the Ring briefly, to escape Boromir’s violent escalation, and he is given a vision. He ascends a set of stairs and sees the vast extent of destruction and violation that has begun over the land. War has begun, and it is everywhere. Frodo cannot give up—unless he destroys the Ring, this process will continue, and will continue to get worse.
“I will do now what I must”, he says.
Power can be like this. The study of “leadership” has become an industry, and I suppose this is fitting, as there are many bad leaders. There are also, of course, many different kinds of leaders, and leaders of many different kinds of things, so my observations below will not apply universally. But I tend to roll my eyes a bit at much “leadership” talk. My own experience suggests that leadership, or perhaps religious leadership, is more like Frodo and less like the frog or the starfish or what have you.
Leadership often begins with a sense of call that feels like a duty. It is a burden that is inescapable, because it comes with a vision of what might be lost if this burden is not carried. It often contains a gnawing sadness, both because of what this duty costs in the day in and day out bearing of it, and because the duty often comes with a knowledge of how things might fail. If Frodo fails, everything goes dark. The ring is Frodo’s possession and his burden. It is his duty to bear, and he bears it alone.
But those around him envy this duty. They want access to him, and access to the Ring. They desire the power that it promises and the influence that it gives him, but they lack any knowledge of the weight of responsibility Frodo constantly bears. They want power without the vision of the damage that power can do, without the knowledge of what might be lost.
Frodo bears a deep and sorrowful duty, an almost religious obligation, in his responsibility for the Ring. He knows what might be lost if he fails. It is this knowledge that is the only thing that qualifies him. This burden of leadership-- the knowledge of how things might go wrong plus the envy of those nearby who want only power—I suspect this is a double-bind that most people know little about. But I think that its weight is one of the few realities that truly qualifies a person to lead well. Much might be lost when power is misapplied. Many want power without this knowledge. I suspect that only those who can suffer the weight of both can survive.