Biblical and Theological Commentary on Unfinished Tales, Part 2
The Second Age
(avg. read time: 26–52 mins.)
This second part of the commentary concerns the unfinished tales of the Second Age. As such, most of it will concern Númenor. Interestingly enough, this includes more detail about the religion of Númenor.
Númenórean Religion
Tolkien, of course, did not regard it as proper for a Secondary World to contain the explicit forms of Primary World religion. Rather, he insisted in Letter #165 that this setting is “a monotheistic world of ‘natural theology’. The odd fact that there are no churches, temples, or religious rites and ceremonies, is simply part of the historical climate depicted…. I am in any case myself a Christian; but the ‘Third Age’ was not a Christian world.” That is, the races of Middle-earth operate according to what they can determine from general revelation of creation, what they can discern with reason, and what wisdom has been passed down through the ages. There is general belief that there is one God above all, but the means of having a more direct connection with this God have not yet been revealed for those in Middle-earth. The monotheistic natural theology held by the Númenóreans—being enlightened by the Elves of the Undying Lands who learned from the Valar and Maiar—and other Men, like the Rohirrim (to say nothing of others like the High Elves still in Middle-earth), is a kind of precursor to the revelations declared in Judeo-Christianity. Tolkien even says the Númenóreans of Gondor are Hebraic in their theology, even though they were like Egyptians in other respects (Letter #211). This is the best that can be hoped for in the absence of special revelation, which has not even come to Israel yet in this setting. As Tolkien noted in another letter (Letter #153):
There are thus no temples or ‘churches’ or fanes in this ‘world’ among ‘good’ peoples. They had little or no ‘religion’ in the sense of worship. For help they may call on a Vala (as Elbereth), as a Catholic might on a Saint, though no doubt knowing in theory as well as he that the power of the Vala was limited and derivative. But this is a ‘primitive age’: and these folk may be said to view the Valar as children view their parents or immediate adult superiors, and though they know they are subjects of the King he does not live in their country nor have there any dwelling. I do not think Hobbits practised any form of worship or prayer (unless through exceptional contact with Elves). The Númenóreans (and others of that branch of Humanity, that fought against Morgoth, even if they elected to remain in Middle-earth and did not go to Númenor: such as the Rohirrim) were pure monotheists. But there was no temple in Númenor (until Sauron introduced the cult of Morgoth). The top of the Mountain, the Meneltarma or Pillar of Heaven, was dedicated to Eru, the One, and there at any time privately, and at certain times publicly, God was invoked, praised, and adored: an imitation of the Valar and the Mountain of Aman. But Númenor fell and was destroyed and the Mountain engulfed, and there was no substitute. Among the exiles, remnants of the Faithful who had not adopted the false religion nor taken part in the rebellion, religion as divine worship (though perhaps not as philosophy and metaphysics) seems to have played a small part; though a glimpse of it is caught in Faramir’s remark on ‘grace at meat’.
Because this is a setting before the revelation of Christ Incarnate, Tolkien saw no need to insert analogs of his own religious practice. But it also would likely not sit well with him to portray upright characters as explicitly pursuing other gods either. After all, Tolkien does not imagine the One he refers to as “God” (Eru Ilúvatar) is anyone other than the One he worships as the One God in the Primary World. He actually spoke directly to this point in an interview published in 1968 (though the original interview was held in late 1966). When the interviewer asked who the One God of Middle-earth is, he responded, “The one, of course! The book is about the world that God created—the actual world of this planet.”1
Of course, a further complication is that there are other expressions of religion in this setting that are idolatrous, as Sauron (and his lord, Melkor/Morgoth) sought to be worshiped. This fits the characterization of the conflict in LOTR, as well as Tolkien’s larger mythos, as being about, “God, and His sole right to divine honour” (Letter #183). Thus, religious practices prior to special revelation could have negative associations for many who have resided too close to the physically manifest Dark Lords.
Still, it should be noted that there would be a later equivalent to the high place on Meneltarma referred to multiple times herein with the hallow on Mindolluin above Minas Tirith. It was here, an ancient place of worship of the One God, that Aragorn found the sapling of the White Tree descended ultimately from Telperion (VI/5). The planting of the sapling here was truly an expression of estel in Eru Ilúvatar. And it would be from here that the fuller worship of the One would return. As Tolkien said in Letter #156:
It later appears that there had been a ‘hallow’ on Mindolluin, only approachable by the King, where he had anciently offered thanks and praise on behalf of his people; but it had been forgotten. It was re-entered by Aragorn, and there he found a sapling of the White Tree, and replanted it in the Court of the Fountain. It is to be presumed that with the reemergence of the lineal priest kings (of whom Lúthien the Blessed Elf-maiden was a foremother) the worship of God would be renewed, and His Name (or title) be again more often heard.
The descendants of the Númenóreans would maintain the vestige of thanksgiving in the Standing Silence long after Númenor was lost (IV/5; VI/4). Their closest expressions to petitionary prayers were invocations of intermediaries of the One (particularly, the Valar). But with the return of the king, the institution of the priest king, and all that pertained thereto, would be renewed.
The notion that the king would be a priest king is also in line with how Tolkien has described the Númenóreans and their descendants as being “Hebraic” in their theology (Letter #211). The fundamental notion that humans were created to bear the image of God and that this meant serving as his viceregents is foundational to this conception. The ideal king in Ps 110—a text used many times in connection with Christ in the NT—is thus spoken of as one is who is priest in the order of Melchizedek, as befits one who is both priest and king as Melchizedek was in Gen 14:18–20. Aside from the ideal king, the Israelite king could also function in a priestly capacity, as seen in 2 Sam 6:14, 17–18; 8:18; 1 Kgs 8:14, 55, and 62–64. In Tolkien’s presentation, Aragorn and his ancestors are meant to exemplify such truth, to anticipate such later history, and, ultimately, to point to the Lord who will be High Priest and King.
In this particular text, we see a reiteration of some elements and expansion with others. We are told about Meneltarma, the Pillar of the Heavens, where there was a hallow for worshiping Eru Ilúvatar, though it was not in any likeness of a temple like the one Sauron would have the Númenóreans build much later (174). In view of its sacredness, no tool or weapon was brought there, and only the king, who is the high priest, could speak any word:
Thrice only in each year the King spoke, offering prayer for the coming year at the Erukyermë in the first days of spring, praise of Eru Ilúvatar at the Erulaitalë in midsummer, and thanksgiving to him at the Eruhantalë at the end of autumn. At these times the King ascended the mountain on foot followed by a great concourse of the people, clad in white and garlanded, but silent. At other times the people were free to climb to the summit alone or in company.; but it is said that the silence was so great that even a stranger ignorant of Númenor and all its history, if he were transported thither, would not have dared to speak aloud. (174)
Each of these times of the “Three Prayers” has a theophoric name. The first is most simply “Prayer to Eru” in recognition of Eru’s sovereignty over the time to come, as the Númenóreans, like many other kingdoms and nations until fairly recently, marked the beginning of the year in the spring rather than early in winter as we do with January 1. This prayer acknowledges that he is the source of time itself, the source of provision, and the life-giver, whence comes spring and fruitfulness out of the desolation of winter.
If I may be permitted another detour here before discussing the next two prayers, this would fit with Christian reasoning first in evidence in the first century, the most vivid example of which is 1 Clement. The first reference Clement makes to resurrection combines elements of NT influence and the appeals to examples from nature that Clement uses in his arguments (20; 23:3–4; 33). In a way that is somewhat similar to how Paul uses the principles of creation in 1 Cor 15:36–41, he directs his readers to how the Master continually points to the fact that there will be a future resurrection (ἀνάστασις; 24:1). The first demonstration is the Lord Jesus Christ himself, who he made the first fruits (ἀπαρχή) of that resurrection by “raising him from the dead” (ἐκ νεκρῶν ἀναστήσας; 24:1). We have here not only an example of resurrection phrases using ἐκ νεκρῶν, but also the use of the imagery of the “first fruits” of resurrection that links this text with 1 Cor 15:20 and 23.2 The subsequent demonstrations he points to are from nature. He speaks of the figurative resurrection (ἀνάστασις) that happens at seasons (24:2) as well as of how day and night show the same (24:3). He also points to the examples of crops (24:4–5), as the sower casts his seed, they fall into the ground dry and bare/naked and decay, but the providence (πρόνοια) of the Master resurrects (ἀνίστημι) them (24:5) so that they increase and bear fruit.
These examples from nature show that God’s action in raising Jesus from the dead and his future work of raising others are consistent with his creative providence in other ways, just as his work as Creator is linked with his work as Lord/King, Judge, and Savior. As noted above, this is similar to what we can find in 1 Cor 15:36–38, as well as John 12:24. While each of those texts use seed imagery for how God brings new life out of death (specifically Jesus’s death in John), the resurrection connection is not explicit in Jesus’s saying, as his saying is focused on fruitfulness from death rather than the particular seed being “made alive,” as in Paul, although this latter aspect does seem to have influence on Clement’s expression here and later. Furthermore, Paul’s statement is part of a larger point that he proceeds to articulate in vv. 37–38 about sowing, reaping, the body produced, and how the entirety is subject to the creative purpose of God, which exerts a more extensive influence on Clement’s argumentation.3
Of course, Clement is working backwards from belief in resurrection to God’s work in nature. But the emphasis that would resonate through the ages was the continuity in the order of nature and the order of grace. Thomas Aquinas would appeal to this idea many times over that the “order of grace” builds on, elevates, and completes or perfects the “order of nature” (Thomas Aquinas, Summa Theologiae I,1.1.8.reply 2; I.1.2.2.reply 1; I,1.62.5; II,2.1.8; De Malo q. 2 a. 11; In II Sententiarum distinction 9 art. 8 ag 3; ibid. ad 3; In III Sententiarum distinction 24, q. 1, a. 3A; cf. Quaestiones Quodlibetales IV.6.1; V.1.2; V.10.1; VII.5.2).4 Hence, he reiterates in multiple works some version of the point that “grace perfects/completes nature,” rather than that it destroys nature.5 As the era of history that Tolkien presented in his work is a “monotheistic world of natural theology” (Letter #165 to Houghton Mifflin Co.), it was consistent with his Christian (specifically Catholic) beliefs to find ways of articulating ideas in continuity/compatibility with what God had revealed by the order of grace in special revelation to Israel and in Christ, while still remaining consistent with their being derived from the order of nature. And so it is fitting that these natural theologians, having received wisdom by their bond with the Eldar and, thus, the Valar and Maiar, should act in continuity with the order of grace revealed later.
The second prayer is similarly straightforward, as it means “Praise of Eru.” This was offered in the middle of the year in praise of what Eru had done. Presumably, this would include how Eru had answered the prayer at the opening of the year thus far, his work in creation, his work in sustaining creation, his providence, and so on. In any case, praise is one of the fundamental expressions of worship.
The third prayer is again straightforward in its meaning: “Thanksgiving to Eru.” This would be made at the end of autumn in anticipation of winter and after the harvests. As with other expressions of thanksgiving, this is an acknowledgment that the source of the kingdom’s prosperity lies outside of it; it consists of gifts from a giver who is also the Creator. In line with what we have seen elsewhere, it is a manifestation of estel and the conviction of God’s willing the good (i.e., his love). Thus it was also in the thanksgiving commanded in the old covenant (Lev 7:11–15; 22:29–30; 2 Chr 29:31; 30:22; 31:2; 33:16; Pss 50:14, 23; 56:12; 107:22; 116:17; Jer 17:26; cf Jon 2:9) and new covenant (Rom 14:6; 1 Cor 14:16; Eph 1:16; 5:20; Phil 4:6; Col 3:15; 4:2; 1 Thess 5:16–18; 1 Tim 2:1). As praise is a fundamental expression of worship, so is thanksgiving, and therefore the two are not infrequently combined (cf. 2 Sam 22:50 // Ps 18:49; 1 Chr 16; 23:30; 25:3; 29:13; 2 Chr 20:21; Ezra 3:11; Neh 12:24, 27, 46; Pss 7:17; 9; 26:7; 28:7; 30; 33:2; 35:18; 42:4–5; 69:30; 75; 79:13; 86:12; 92; 95:2; 100; 105:1; 106:1, 47; 107; 108:3; 109:30; 111; 118; 138; 147:7; Isa 25:1; 38:18–19; 51:3; Jer 30:19; 33:11; Dan 2:23; Luke 2:38; Rom 1:21; 14:6; Col 3:15–17; 1 Thess 3:9; 5:16–18; Rev 4:9; 7:12).
This brings us to one of the most fascinating letters from Tolkien for theological interests. It is one he wrote to Camilla Unwin, the daughter of Rayner Unwin, the frequent reader of his work for Allen & Unwin (Letter #310). Here, Tolkien provided a summary of his ideas about the purpose of life, as this was from a question Camilla asked him. After a relatively brief framing of the question of life’s purpose, he summarized his thoughts, which should be familiar to any Christian who has engaged with Christian tradition, as follows:
So it may be said that the chief purpose of life, for any one of us, is to increase according to our capacity our knowledge of God by all the means we have, and to be moved by it to praise and thanks. To do as we say in the Gloria in Excelsis: Laudamus te, benedicamus te, adoramus te, glorificamus te, gratias agimus tibi propter magnam gloriam tuam. We praise you, we call you holy, we worship you, we proclaim your glory, we thank you for the greatness of your splendour.
Probably the most well-known similar statement—though not from a Catholic source—comes from the Westminster Shorter Catechism, which defines the chief end of humans: “Man’s chief end is to glorify God, and to enjoy him forever.” But more fittingly exemplifying Tolkien’s Catholic tradition is the Penny Catechism that was popular at the time, which responded to the question, “Why did God make you?” with the answer, “God made me to know him, to love him and to serve him in this world, and to be happy with him forever in the next.” The reader should consult Letter #310 for more of Tolkien’s exposition on the subject. While such notions are obviously more developed than what Tolkien describes as this “primitive age” (Letter #153), the continuity of the need for what he describes as estel remains.
One last feature of Númenórean religion to note in this context is the presence of three Eagles for each of these occasions. They would fly overhead during these proceedings, as if to bear witness for such sacred occasions. They were thus dubbed “the Witnesses of Manwë, and they were believed to be sent by him from Aman to keep watch upon the Holy Mountain and upon all the land” (174). We discussed the Eagles in the Silmarillion commentary, and we need not revisit everything here. Here, as there, they are presented as agents of Manwë, and their bearing witness to the worship of the Númenóreans serves as an extension of Manwë’s own support for their worship. Manwë is the Elder King of Arda, the highest authority within the Circles of the World, but he is himself but the chief servant whose role is to point beyond himself to the one he serves. And thus he does in regard to this worship that is directed not to him but to the same God he and the Númenóreans serve.
Providence and the Life of the Mariner
The longest story of the Second Age in this volume is that of “Aldarion and Erendis: The Mariner’s Wife.” In my opinion, this is among Tolkien’s best writing that was not included in the five major books of his fiction. Particularly for my interests as a biblical scholar, “Athrabeth Finrod ah Andreth” in Morgoth’s Ring will always be my favorite, but there is a case to be made for this one being the best written.
This story is set in the first millennium of the Second Age and focuses on the son of Tar-Meneldur, the fifth King of Númenor, his son Tar-Aldarion, and Aldarion’s wife Erendis. While Aldarion loved his wife, it seems that he loved the sea more, and Erendis treats the sea, represented by the Maia Uinen, as a rival to herself. Although Aldarion’s years-long voyages proved fruitful in the end, including in making Númenor aware of the rising of a new shadow in Middle-earth, these frequent and long voyages caused rifts with his wife and his father. The estrangement with his wife contributed to them having only child together: Tar-Ancalimë, the first ruling Queen of Númenor for whom the laws of succession had to change.
There is even some matter in this story that is of interest for our purposes. Much of it comes from what one might call “mariners’ spirituality.” By virtue of their profession, every mariner is made to confront the truth that they are at the mercy of powers much greater than themselves. Whether or not they have been “pious,” their practices have often been seen as superstitious. In any case, they are made acutely aware of their creaturely limitations, a rather important element in Tolkien’s fiction, as we have seen many times over, and their spirituality reflects this in one way or another. This is made clear also in the mariners’ spirituality of the Númenóreans and how it is shaped by the traditions they have received from the Eldar and their forefathers. For this reason, there are frequent reminders of the grace of the Valar and the Maiar that allows them to sail safely:
‘Do you forget that the Edain dwell here under the grace of the Lords of the West, that Uinen is kind to us, and Ossë is restrained? Our ships are guarded, and other hands guide them than ours. So be not overpoud, or the grace may wane; and do not presume that it will extend to those who risk themselves without need upon the rocks of strange shores or in the lands of men of darkness.
‘To what purpose then is the gracing of our ships,’ said Aldarion, ‘if they are to sail to no shores, and may seek nothing not seen before?’ (186–87)
and Meneldur himself was disquieted, despite the grace of the Valar that had ever protected the ships of Númenor. (189)
Greatly was Meneldur comforted at Aldarion’s return; but he rebuked him for his rebellion against king and father, thus forsaking the guardianship of the Valar, and risking the wrath of Ossë, not only for himself but for men whom he had bound to himself in devotion. (189)
And you shall sail with me, Erendis, under the grace of the Valar, of Yavanna and of Oromë whom you love (196)
I thank the Valar by whose grace you have returned at last. (197)
the Valar keep you and may no shadow fall upon the Isle of Kings (208)
For our return let the Valar care—if our deeds do not displease them. (215)
These declarations are yet further recognitions that the prosperity of the kingdom comes from beyond the kingdom, even as the land on which the kingdom rests has its origins in the work of the Valar. This was also signified by a custom observed when ships departed Númenor for Middle-earth: “a woman, most often of the captain’s kin, should set upon the vessel’s prow the Green Bough of Return; and that was cut from the tree oiolairë, that signifies ‘Ever-summer,’ which the Eldar gave to the Númenóreans, saying that they set it upon their own ships in token of friendship with Ossë and Uinen” (187). By this, they recognize the powers of the sea, as well as their subservience to them and to the One who is over them all.
Most often, the grace is immediately attributed to the Valar and Maiar, as they are the Powers who inhabit the world, but there was also a recognition of the One beyond them. This is manifested on a couple occasions, besides the Three Prayers themselves and the Hallow on the Meneltarma, when the One is referenced. Gil-galad says in the closing of his letter to Meneldur, “Manwë keep you under the One, and send fair wind to your sails” (210). And in a line reminiscent of Hezekiah (2 Kgs 20:19 // Isa 39:8) in response to Gil-galad’s warning about the evil stirring in Middle-earth and the need for resisting it, Meneldur wishes, “May Eru call me before such a times comes” (210). This is both a recognition of creaturely limitations and the One who defines them, as death is described in terms of Eru “calling” him. Notably, the Three Prayers are used for marking time at multiple points in this story (183, 192, 214).
Gift and Gratitude
In fact, it is during the time of the Erukyermë that we are told of a conversation between Aldarion and Erendis. As they make their way down Meneltarma after the prayer for that occasion, she asks him, “Do you not love the Yôzâyan?” (192). This is an Adûnaic word for referring to Númenor as the “Land of Gift.” Erendis poses the question because of how often and for how long Aldarion goes sailing away from this land. Aldarion insists that he does love it, but he also says that he wants to increase its glory and share it with others of Middle-earth, for “I believe that a gift should not lie idle in hoard” (192).
Erendis rebuffs this notion by saying, “Such gifts as come from the Valar, and through them from the One, are to be loved for themselves now, and in all nows. They are not given for barter, for more or for better. The Edain remain mortal Men, Aldarion, great though they be: and we cannot dwell in the time that is to come, lest we lose our now for a phantom of our own design” (192).
A few things should be observed here. One, this highlights another aspect of temporal perspective that is in line with biblical teachings from Matthew and James that we noted in the previous part. It is particularly in line with the teaching from Jas 4:13–17 of how excessive focus on the future distracts from the present when we mortals are not assured of tomorrow. It can also interfere with gratitude when time is no longer regarded as a gift from God but as a thing to be taken for granted and presumed.
Two, it is rightly remembered that the gift points to the giver. Most immediately, the Valar gave Númenor to the Númenóreans, but the source of the gift is ultimately beyond them. Eru is the one they thank as the Creator and Giver. And it is ultimately by his will that they were given this island and all other gifts bestowed on them for their edification and sanctification (as also noted in the previous part of this commentary). The awareness of the source of the gift, and thus that what is received is a gift, should cultivate gratitude upwards. It is also a reminder of the One’s providence in the world, meaning that it is a key foundation for their beliefs about providence expressed throughout this story.
Three, gratitude ought to shape one’s perspective of the present. I am reminded of the many commands to thanksgiving in the Old and New Testaments. It is one of the most common commands in all of Scripture because of how it shapes one’s perspective and conduct in worship of God. Particularly memorable for me is Ephesians 5:3–4: “But sexual immorality, and all impurity or covetousness/greediness must not even be named among you, just as is proper among the saints, nor shamefulness and foolish speech or ribaldry, which are not fitting, but rather thanksgiving” (personal translation). It is interesting how thanksgiving is presented as the contrast to all the sinful conditions of vv. 3–4. More specifically, thanksgiving is something that is the transforming initiative and replacement of these conditions. For when one lives in thanksgiving for what God has given, for who God is, and for where God has placed one, that person does not engage in these other behaviors.
More broadly, thanksgiving and expressed gratitude are clearly crucial aspects of biblical faith to cultivate. That is why the old covenant had offerings of thanksgiving (Lev 7:12–15; 22:29; 2 Chr 29:31; 33:16; Pss 50;14, 23; 56:12; 107:22; 116:17; Jer 17:26; Amos 4:5). A defining ritual of the new covenant has traditionally been called “the Eucharist,” which derives from a Greek term translated as “I give thanks,” which is fitting for how the Lord instituted it (Matt 26:27 // Mark 14:23 // Luke 22:17, 19; 1 Cor 11:24) and foreshadowed it elsewhere in his ministry (Matt 15:36 // Mark 8:6; John 6:11, 23; cf. John 11:41). Moreover, it is expected to be a regular practice of the new covenant (Rom 14:6; 1 Cor 10:30; 14:16–17; 2 Cor 4:15; 9:11–15; Eph 5:4, 20; Phil 4:6; Col 1:12; 2:7; 3:15–17; 4:2; 1 Thess 5:18; 2 Thess 2:13; 1 Tim 1:12; 2:1; 4:3–4; 2 Tim 1:3; Rev 4:9; 7:12; 11:17; cf. Rom 6:17; 7:25; 1 Cor 15:57; 2 Cor 2:14; 8:16). Thanksgiving is also a prominent theme in the Psalms (Pss 7:17; 9:1; 26:7; 28:7; 30:12; 33:2; 35:18; 42:4; 44:8; 69:30; 75:1; 79:13; 86:12; 92:1; 95:2; 100; 105:1; 106:1, 47; 107; 108:3; 109:30; 111:1; 118; 119:7, 62; 122:4; 136:1–3, 26; 138; 139:14; 140:13; 142:7; 145:10; 147:7). In the Psalms and elsewhere, it is an activity that goes hand in hand with confession and praise of the Lord (2 Sam 22:50 // Ps 18:49; 1 Chr 16:4, 8, 34–35; 23:30; 25:3; 29:13; 2 Chr 5:13; 20:21; 30:22; 31:2; Ezra 3:11; Neh 12:24, 46; Dan 2:23; 6:10). A marker of hope is the expectation that people will express thanksgiving (Isa 12:1, 4; 25:1; 51:3; Jer 30:19; 33:11). It is a regular aspect of the openings of Paul’s letters in the NT to give thanks to God for the people they write to (Rom 1:8; 1 Cor 1:4; Eph 1:16; Phil 1:3; Col 1:3; 1 Thess 1:2; 2:13; Phlm 1:4). It is the proper response to what God has done in salvation (Jon 2:9), in provision (hence its accompanying the breaking of bread in the Eucharist and elsewhere like Acts 27:35), and in opening opportunities to do work he has given us to do (Acts 28:15). To not respond with thanksgiving for what he has done is an identifier of missing the mark that leads to further sinfulness (Rom 1:21). As one can see, a whole study could be written on just this subject.
Choice and Judgment
After Tar-Meneldur reads the letter from Gil-galad, the narrator gives us the king’s reflection on the implications thereof. He was prepared to be king in a time of peace, to focus on his kingdom, and to look heavenward if he must look beyond the bounds of that kingdom. But Gil-galad’s letter has warned him of a new shadow arising. He was taught, and so has thought, that the Edain were to learn war no more, “for war was ended, and Morgoth thrust forth from Arda” (210). But because of the seeds Morgoth has sown, the matter is not so simple (cf. 263). Evil is not vanquished simply because he has been banished.
His first inclination is to let the Valar deal with this shadow, since they are the Lords of Arda. But is that to mean that the Númenóreans are to stand by and do nothing while this shadow grows? The reason the Edain and their descendants were given this Land of Gift was as reward for how they helped in fighting Morgoth, “Shall their sons stand aloof, if evil finds a new head?” (210). Since the path of courage is to do what must be done, to follow this route would be the path of cowardice.
But Tar-Meneldur also knows that he is not a man of war. Yet he also does not know for sure that war must be. This is a time of uncertainty, but the leader must act with conviction, and he is too doubtful:
To prepare or to let be? To prepare for war, which is yet only guessed: train craftsmen and tillers in the midst of peace for bloodspilling and battle: put iron in the hands of greedy captains who will love only conquest, and count the slain as their glory? Will they say to Eru: At least your enemies were amongst them? Or to fold hands, while friends die unjustly: let men live in blind peace, until the ravisher is at the gate? What then will they do: match naked hands against iron and die in vain, or flee leaving the cries of women behind them? Will they say to Eru: At least I spilled no blood? (210)
It is important to remember that characters do not necessarily represent Tolkien’s way of thinking. That is not to say this would not work as a reflection of the kinds of ways Tolkien thought of war, as he could see it as necessary in some instances without glorifying it (unlike his Anglo-Saxon predecessors). It certainly fits the problems that would occur to a man with a mind for peace rather than for greatness in arms.
What is more significant is how it subtly reflects Tolkien’s beliefs at least in the respect of eschatology. The expectation implied here is that everyone will need to face Eru for judgment. The place of this expectation in a larger theological or eschatological schema is unclear, nor is there a clearly articulated belief about the afterlife or how it works, except that it involves Men going beyond the Circles of the World, as stated elsewhere. If they go beyond the world, then that would seem to imply, from an “orthodox” perspective at this time, that they will face Eru. And if Men must face Eru who created them, surely some account will be given of how Men conducted themselves in life, for all of life is accountable to the One who gives it. This basic belief is obviously not exclusively biblical, but it is also obviously compatible and consonant with Scripture and subsequent Christian tradition.
With the first account given to Eru, one should not read too much of a “holy war” theology into it (even if lines can be drawn from such simpler ideas to a more complex one several steps away). The point is rather that the shadow in question consists of those who are in some way allied to Morgoth and, thereby, in rebellion against Eru. One can see how a warrior could seek to excuse themselves by the sheer fact of fighting against such enemies and being in tacit alignment with Eru. But obviously Meneldur is also aware that how people conduct themselves in war matters, and one cannot rely on such flimsy excuses for the taking of life before the One who gave the gift of life.
With the second account given to Eru, this too is a flimsy excuse. Although not taking a life would seem to be a good point to bring up to the One who gave the gift of life, it is not obviously so when you did nothing to prevent the taking of other lives by those with ill will when you had the ability to do something. This is also an idea that is in line with Tolkien’s beliefs, as he was not a pacifist any more than Frodo was (Letter #195).
There is another link of this text with Frodo in what Meneldur says immediately after this: “When either way may lead to evil, of what worth is choice?” (210). Compare this with the narrator’s description of Frodo’s thinking as he tries to decide his course before the Black Gate: “Which way should he choose? And if both led to terror and death, what good lay in choice?” (IV/3). This is the type of quote that gets Tolkien brought up in the typical Calvinism/Arminianism debate where he does not squarely fit either set of beliefs.6 These quotes are hardly unique in this regard. But it is fair to say that these thoughts from Frodo and Meneldur recognize the limits of their choices. Tolkien was of the view that free will is derivative and limited by circumstances, but he also thought that God in some sense guarantees it: “sc. when it is ‘against His Will’, as we say, at any rate as it appears on a finite view. He does not stop or make ‘unreal’ sinful acts and their consequences” (Letter #153). He likewise described the unlimited God as “the one wholly free Will and Agent” (Letter #156).
Both Meneldur and Frodo are concerned with the consequences of their choices, and for all they know, both options will lead to undesirable consequences. Additionally, Meneldur resigns himself to Providence in saying, “Let the Valar rule under Eru” (210). He also rightly acknowledges that to try to avoid making the choice for oneself or to delegate it to others is ultimately to make a choice: “I will resign the Sceptre to Aldarion. Yet that also is a choice, for I know well which road he will take” (210).
There is an important lesson in humility here about the level of control we actually have, the degree of power we possess, and thus the extent to which our wills may have effect in line with our purposes. We really have less control over the accomplishment of our ends, however good they may be, than we think we do. Unintended consequences abound. So much depends on matters outside of our control, which is one of the reasons why estel is such a crucial virtue. To have estel is to trust that following means that are truly righteous, just, good, loving, and so on will be taken up by the One who will accomplish the ends befitting those means. Our responsibility is ultimately not in the accomplishment of the ends but in being faithful with the means we use. The goal ought to shape the means accordingly.
For Meneldur, for Frodo, and for us, it is needful to realize that we do not have complete control over the consequences of our decisions or the realization of our ends. We do not always know which choice will be best based on consequences that we cannot foresee, for the reasons of it being the best choice may be beyond our reckoning. In Meneldur’s case, he knows not what Aldarion knows of Middle-earth and of all the preparations he will be able to make to resist the Shadow that is arising, nor of the long-resonating effects those efforts will have. In Frodo’s case, the time it will take him to travel the longer way will allow him to encounter Faramir, who will provide critical intelligence to Gandalf as a result, and it will allow him to reach his destination at a time when an army (including Gandalf as a leader) can provide a suitable distraction for Sauron’s forces. Neither could have known any of these things beforehand, but based on what they know, they still make just choices, and the One will reward the trust in Providence they show through that which is beyond their ken.
Humility in Abnegation
Tar-Meneldur also shows the virtue of humility in this part of the story. Because he acknowledges that he lacks the understanding and the will to make the choices that need to be made for the defense of Númenor, its allies, and Middle-earth in general, he abdicates his throne. In recognition of his limitations, he willingly denies himself powers, sovereignty, and judgments that are rightly his, and he instead gives them to another who he acknowledges is better suited.
Meneldur’s humility is significant on multiple levels. On the one hand, it serves as a contrast with so many other later Kings of Númenor. As they saw mortality more and more as a doom and a burden rather than as a gift, they began to cling to life and to power when they ought to have let both go in recognition that the time of another had come. Meneldur had reigned for 142 years prior to making this decision, and he would still live for fifty-nine years after the sceptre passed to Aldarion. It would have been easy for the pride of life and the inertia of complacency to carry him onward, but he had the humility to realize the wiser course and the courage to do what needed to be done when a new course of action was called for. While others before him had yielded the sceptre prior to their death, there was otherwise never this extensive a gap between abdication and death.
On the other hand, it illustrates how heroic characters in Tolkien’s story can partially reflect his Christian framework. In this case, his humility manifests in abnegation and sacrifice for the benefit of others. We see this in Jesus’s teaching about denying oneself, taking up one’s cross, and following him (Matt 16:24 // Mark 8:34 // Luke 9:23). Similarly, we see this in how the gospel story is invoked in seeking the good of others by humbling oneself to the point of sacrifice as Jesus did (Phil 2:1–13). This is another connection Meneldur has with Frodo, who also exemplified these virtues.
Giving Back the Gift
The next section of this set of texts on the Second Age addresses the Line of Elros. This includes a note earlier on about the second King of Númenor, Vardamir Nólimon, who established a tradition among the kings that lasted over a thousand years thereafter that “the King should yield the sceptre to his successor before he died; and the Kings died of free will while yet in vigour of mind” (229). This is consistent with what we saw in LOTR, particularly in the example of Aragorn, and in the precedent set by Bëor in The Silmarillion.
Tolkien likewise said in a footnote of Letter #156 that a good Númenórean would die of free will when he felt it was the time, and he said in a footnote for Letter #212: “It was also the Elvish (and uncorrupted Númenórean) view that a ‘good’ Man would or should die voluntarily by surrender with trust before being compelled (as did Aragorn). This may have been the nature of unfallen Man; though compulsion would not threaten him: he would desire and ask to be allowed to ‘go on’ to a higher state” (emphases original). For Men in Tolkien’s story, the acceptance of creaturely limitation transcribed in the reality of mortality is what ultimately separates those among Men who see death as the Gift of Men and those who describe death as the Doom of Men. Thus, Aragorn himself described his time of death as being due to a grace that was given him, after the blessing of a long lifespan, to go at his will, “and give back the gift” (Appendix A.I.v).
We also see here how death might have been approached from an “unfallen” perspective as Tolkien presents it. Although compulsion would not have been an issue for unfallen humans, Tolkien thought this same attitude would have characterized the unfallen, for whom death would have signified only the end of transient, mortal existence and not that condition of Godforsakeness under the power of death united with sin. Tolkien showed in Letter #212 the distinct influence of his Catholic theology in how he linked this idea with Catholic Mariology. On the one hand, the notion of the Immaculate Conception in Catholic theology insists that Mary was an unfallen human (as Tolkien said in this same letter), particularly in the sense that she was exempt from the stain of original sin. On the other hand, the assumption of Mary is considered to be the appropriate end-of-life complement to her conception, whereby she voluntarily gave up continuing her earthly existence and was taken up into heaven. But lest there be any confusion about Mary’s status or any sense that she was in any way not dependent on Christ (for Mary is exalted by her relation to Christ and participation in the Incarnation), Tolkien clarifies, “The Assumption was in any case as distinct from the Ascension as the raising of Lazarus from the (self) Resurrection.”
Of course, we have seen elsewhere how the Númenóreans eventually struggled with their blessing of long life because they became desirous of even more of it. Tolkien struggled with how long-lived the Númenóreans were and if the line of Elros should live so much longer than the others. Christopher tells us that Tolkien’s latest writing on the matter has only Elros being given a peculiar longevity relative to other Númenóreans. He was not so different from Elrond as other Númenóreans. What differentiated the brothers was not physical potential of life, “but that since Elros elected to remain among the kindred of Men he retained the chief characteristic of Men as opposed to the Quendi: the ‘seeking elsewither,’ as the Eldar called it, the ‘weariness’ or desire to depart from the world” (235).
As we have discussed elsewhere in relation to The Silmarillion, the fate of Men lies beyond the Circles of the World until the new creation. This does not change for the Númenóreans, as they remain Men and their lifespan is only greatly increased. They are made more like Elves, including in how their vigor of mind and body is extended so that once they were fully grown, they aged in slower fashion than other Men. But unlike Elves, they retained their “world-weariness,” the first approach of which
was indeed for them a sign that their period of vigour was nearing its end. When it came to an end, if they persisted in living, then decay would proceed, as growth had done, no more slowly than among other Men. Thus a Númenórean would pass quickly, in ten years maybe, from health and vigour of mind to decrepitude and senility. In the earlier generations they did not ‘cling to life,’ but resigned it voluntarily. ‘Clinging to life,’ and so in the end dying perforce and involuntarily, was one of the changes brought about by the Shadow and the rebellion of the Númenóreans; it was also accompanied by the shrinking of their natural life-span. (235–36)
The Númenóreans and the envy they develop for the Elves, not realizing the advantages of their own fate, illustrate a major theme Tolkien spoke of concerning LOTR that also permeated his other fiction: “The real theme for me is about something much more permanent and difficult: Death and Immortality: the mystery of the love of the world in the hearts of a race ‘doomed’ to leave and seemingly lose it; the anguish in the hearts of a race ‘doomed’ not to leave it, until its whole evil-aroused story is complete” (Letter #186). Both kindreds ultimately must show estel in their various ways.
For the later Men of Númenor, beginning with Tar-Atanmir the Unwilling (“for he was the first of the Kings to refuse to lay down his life, or to renounce the sceptre; and he lived until death took him perforce in dotage” [231]), their approach to death was ultimately a failure of estel. To cling to life was to acknowledge no longer that life is a gift, a grace of Ilúvatar. It was to acknowledge no longer creaturely limitations and, implicitly or explicitly, the Creator who set them for his purposes. Men must ultimately depend on faith/trust/hope (i.e., estel) that God has something beyond death for them, and to act otherwise shows a failure of estel.
Of course, the ultimate hope for both Elves and Men is for the new creation where they trust/hope that the All-Father will have a place for them in the Second Music (the Valar do not know that they will or will not, but this is the hope of the Elves), and that all the Children of Ilúvatar will thus be brought together in and have their lives tied to a world where death is no more. In the end, both Men and Elves must live by estel that the One has designs for their good beyond the regular course of history. Only from the One will they receive the everlasting life that fulfills both of them, as that life will be tied to the new creation that is not subject to marring and decay like this one is.
Númenor Falls Away
It should be observed, though, that the failure of estel was gradual. It is not as if the Númenóreans awoke one day and rejected Eru’s will, all that they learned of him, and all that was attached thereto about the Valar and the order they instituted in the world. Tar-Atanmir and his fellows spoke against the Ban of the Valar, the Númenórean equivalent of the forbidden tree or forbidden fruit, which went hand in hand with their questioning of the Eldar. Still, they feared the Valar and did not openly defy them. Atanmir’s son, Tar-Ancalimon, oversaw the widening breach between the King’s Men and the Faithful, which we have expounded on elsewhere, including in the forsaking of Eleven-tongues in common use. Still, royal titles were given in Quenya, “out of ancient custom rather than love, for fear lest the breaking of the old usage should bring ill-fortune” (231). This shows how the decay of faith can lead to superstition and superficial ritual devoid of its substance. Then even this ritual decays so that the kings eventually take their titles in Adûnaic, with the first to do so at his accession taking the title Ar-Adûnakhôr, “Lord of the West,” in a gesture of usurpation against Manwë and his ordained rule, which meant at least tacit rebellion against the Creator. Still, the kings’ names were written in Quenya out of lingering superstition.
Eventually, Ar-Gimilzôr avoids even making show of reverence. A special note is made of him, which is said of none of the other kings before, that he “went never to the Hallow of Eru” (233). Seemingly, some of the previous kings would have gone there out of traditional ritual, as they were well into their fall and rebellion and were unlikely to embody what those rituals were to mean. This development coincided with the waning influence of the Faithful, their increasingly becoming a remnant, and a persecuted minority at that.
Of course, not all kings after the shadow fell on Númenor followed this trend, even as not all the kings of Judah followed the general trend of their kingdom. Most notably, Tar-Palantir was practically the Josiah of his kingdom, as he sought to reform the Númenóreans and restore their ancient traditions maintained by the Faithful. This included the fact that he renewed the kingly responsibilities of devotion at the Hallow of Eru upon Meneltarma, which meant, among other things, reciting the Three Prayers noted earlier. But generally speaking, the divide amidst the kingdom remained, and the Númenóreans were on a downward slope of spiritual decline. As with his biblical counterpart Josiah, Palantir only provided a stay of execution for his people by being a good and faithful king (cf. 2 Kgs 23:26; 24:3), but his people as a whole were too given over to the rebellious ways of their more recent ancestors. The resolution of that story is one we have reviewed elsewhere in LOTR and The Silmarillion.
Galadriel’s Abnegation
The last story addressed in this section of the Second Age—though it really spans the Second and Third Age—is the complicated story of Galadriel and Celeborn. One can see here how Tolkien’s ideas about how to tell the story of Galadriel changed in various ways. According to the different versions of the story, Galadriel could have returned to the Undying Lands where she was born and chose not to, or she was banned from doing so. Christopher quotes from Letter #297 for Tolkien’s late commentary on the story, wherein he says that Galadriel thought her exile would be “perennial.” He describes her prayer “that Frodo may as a special grace be granted a purgatorial (but not penal) sojourn in Eressëa, the solitary isle in sight of Aman, though for her the way is closed. Her prayer was granted—but also her personal ban was lifted, in reward for her services against Sauron, and above all for her rejection of the temptation to take the Ring when offered to her.” The success of this prayer is further reaffirmed in Letter #246 in explaining how Frodo is permitted to journey to the Undying Lands. This is not Frodo’s final fate, of course, and so it is described in Catholic terms of purgatory. But it is specifically a kind of purgatory whereby Frodo is healed prior to his departure beyond the Circles of the World.
Meanwhile, in another late version of the story, we are told of her pridefulness, fitting how that larger story characterizes her. Due to her pride, she refused the sweeping pardon of the Valar, choosing instead to remain in Middle-earth. Here, we are told, “It was not until two long ages more had passed, when at last all that she had desired in her youth came to her hand, the Ring of Power and the dominion of Middle-earth of which she had dreamed, that her wisdom was full grown and she rejected it, and passing the last test departed from Middle-earth for ever” (242).
For the differences in how her story is told, the canon that must be accounted for is her choice in LOTR, which resolves her character arc. This choice is another exemplification of the Christian theological-ethical framework of the story as she chooses righteously the way of abnegation. As I have noted elsewhere, her choice echoes and anticipates the path Jesus chose to his exaltation, for it was the path that led to and through the cross and resurrection by his trust in God, rather than by having immediate dominion at the cost of worshiping Satan (Matt 4:1–11 // Luke 4:1–13). This was a test of her estel, after all. Self-sacrifice goes hand in hand with estel, as exemplified on a number of occasions I have noted in commentaries elsewhere, and we see it again with this choice. When Frodo asks her what she wishes, she simply says, “That what should be shall be … The love of the Elves for their land and their works is deeper than the deeps of the Sea, and their regret is undying and cannot ever wholly be assuaged. Yet they will cast all away rather than submit to Sauron: for they know him now” (II/7).
Their being bound to the Circles of the World means that they must endure change in ways their mortal counterparts can scarcely imagine. If they befriend mortals, they will live to see many generations of them live and die, enduring the pain of loss again and again and again. Their immortality binds them to the life of the world, and this world is marred, broken, corrupt, and decaying. This, too, the Elves must endure. Their attachment to the world brings them greater love and appreciation for the loveliness of creation, but inevitably they also must endure loss in this as the things they love change—not always for the better—and die. They were thus tempted to become embalmers (Letters #131 and #154), attempting to slow change and decay for as long as possible. Galadriel’s own realm of Lothlórien is perhaps the best example of this in Middle-earth. And this became the way of temptation for Sauron to reveal to the Elves how to make the Rings of Power to accomplish their ends (though his secret end was to enslave their wills through these Rings). While he did not participate in making any of the Three, their crafting nevertheless partook of the arts that Sauron taught to achieve the ends by which Sauron tempted the Elves, and their fate is ultimately tied with the fate of Sauron’s Ring. In the end, then, the Elves’ wish to embalm is in vain. Their place is ultimately either to journey to the Uttermost West (if permitted) or to fade and give way to the Dominion of Men until the eschaton, although their wisdom passed on to Men was to help in their sanctification, and that is the best-case scenario. The worst-case scenario is, of course, that Sauron would gain mastery and subjugate them anyway, forcing them to watch as he destroyed all that they loved, even if only out of spite.
Galadriel’s particular temptation as one of the Great was to take the Ring and Sauron’s power for herself and to become like Sauron. Those qualities that make her supremely lovely would be turned into an overwhelming desire to make others love her. After all, Sauron had meant to make others into his worshippers through the power of the One Ring (Letter #183). Even though he cared less about being loved per se, the Ring could naturally corrupt this characteristic of Galadriel to a similar evil end so as to lead others to despair.
In the end, both Men and Elves must live by estel that the One has designs for their good beyond the regular course of history. Only from the One will they receive the everlasting life that fulfills both of them, as that life will be tied to the new creation that is not subject to marring and decay like this one is. For now, this is a promise and a hope in which the Children of Ilúvatar must trust. Galadriel shows this trust when, instead of taking the power to have all things as she might wish (though, in fact, she would become ensnared and enslaved by a will to power and domination), she submits her will to the One in whom she has estel in sacrifice of her own desires.
Residue of Evil
Another text tells of Galadriel and Celeborn early in the Second Age when they decided to move eastwards from Eriador to help establish the realm of Eregion. It was located close to the Dwarven realm of Khazad-dûm, and they were to have dealings with the Dwarves. This was not to Celeborn’s liking, as he had lived in Doriath and resented the Dwarves for the fall of that kingdom, even if many did not take part in it, and those who had taken part were dead. Galadriel had no such antipathy to the Dwarves. In a way, she was drawn to them, as they were the Children of Aulë and she had learned much from Aulë and his wife Yavanna in Valinor. She also saw how advantageous it would be to have them as warriors fighting against the Orcs. But most significantly, she interacted with the Dwarves as she did because “she perceived from the beginning that Middle-earth could not be saved from ‘the residue of evil’ that Morgoth had left behind him save by a union of all the peoples who were in their way and in their measure opposed to him” (246–47).
This resonates with what we see from Haldir of Lothlórien in LOTR: “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” (II/6). That, in turn, links with Tolkien’s thoughts on ecumenism in his day, which I discussed in the relevant portion of my LOTR commentary. He knew much of anti-Catholic bias in Great Britain, and he was aware that this was often overlooked by ecumenical efforts in his day. Nevertheless, he said, “charity must cover a multitude of sins! There are dangers (of course), but a Church militant cannot afford to shut up all its soldiers in a fortress. It had as bad effects on the Maginot Line” (Letter #306). This principle comes from 1 Pet 4:8, and its context further suggests what is necessary for Christian unity in being hospitable to one another (4:9), serving one another with the gifts God has given each person (4:10), and glorifying God in all things by speaking as one who speaks the words of God and serving as one who serves with the strength God supplies (4:11).
Such works, values, and virtues are needed because of the world in which the children of God live. The reference to the “residue of evil” is a way of referring to the fallenness of the world. Melkor wove it into the world long before the war with the Eldar, and it will linger for long thereafter. This is not only because of those who willingly join in his rebellion, like his chief servant Sauron, but also because of how he had sown so many seeds of evil across the world and because of how his work preys upon the potential for evil that comes with the fallenness of creatures. Galadriel’s concerns are obviously with physical warfare, but there is obviously a spiritual component even in this ongoing war with the Shadow.
Hope for Renewal and Sanctification
In such a conflict with spiritual dimensions, steadfast estel will be needed. But that is, of course, precisely what is challenged so often the longer the conflict goes on, the more enemies arise, the more allies fall, and the more that what is loved is lost. This would be especially challenging for an Elf who has lived as long and experienced as much as Galadriel. It is easy to see why she, and others like her, would be tempted to become an embalmer.
Indeed, in an early conversation with Olórin when he came from the Uttermost West to Middle-earth, she laments that Middle-earth seems destined to perish and fade forever as the Eldar wane. She wishes for the Elessar, a jewel made by Enerdhil in Gondolin of which it is said, “those who looked through this stone saw things that were withered or burned healed again or as they were in the grace of their youth, and that the hands of one who held it brought to all that they touched healing from hurt” (261). It would seem to offer what the Three Rings were supposed to offer for their wearers, although it too would fail eventually.
While Olórin affirms that it is the fate of Middle-earth to perish and fade (262), at least until the new creation, he produces the Elessar, said to be returned from the Uttermost West “by the grace of the Valar” (261). He assures Galadriel that the Valar have not forsaken Middle-earth, and this Elessar is a token of their continuing care. It can amend the troubles she faces for a little while, and she will use it for her realm of Lothlórien. Still, its limitations are a reminder that the hope for renewal has no ultimate fulfillment within the history of the world as it goes on; that hope must come from without by Eru Ilúvatar’s design of the new creation. This goal and its indeterminate time of arrival call for estel from those who would call themselves faithful.
Furthermore, Olórin reminds Galadriel that this Elessar is not only not a permanent solution; it is not hers to possess and use in perpetuity. He charges, “You shall hand it on when the time comes. For before you grow weary, and at last forsake Middle-earth one shall come who is to receive it, and his name shall be that of the stone: Elessar he shall be called” (262). Her duty is a particular, and a particularly significant, instance of the larger fact of Elvenkind having to give way to Men. In the process, they were supposed to contribute to Men’s sanctification. Part of teaching them holiness was to teach them humility, which they themselves needed to cultivate by remembering that they were part of a plan and a story much larger than themselves. Their own designs were not foremost. While the Elessar was to help her, she was only to have it in order to keep it for someone else to receive. And this one who would be called Elessar would himself work at the service of others and point others to yet another one who would come long after him (as I highlight here, as one example).
Charlotte and Denis Plimmer, “The Man Who Understands Hobbits,” Daily Telegraph Magazine (22 March, 1968), 35 (emphasis original).
More distantly, 1 Clem 37:3 and 41:1 have sometimes been identified as allusions to v. 23, with their references to “each in his own rank.”
For more on the comparison and contrast of the texts from Paul and John, see David R. Kirk, “Seeds and Bodies: Cosmology, Anthropology and Eschatology in 1 Corinthians 15:35–49” (PhD diss., University of Aberdeen, 2015), 115–16.
As specifically related to truth found in pagan sources that is compatible with God’s revelation, the most obvious manifestation of this for Aquinas is how much of his thought was shaped through interaction with the writings of Aristotle and other Aristotelians.
For more on this matter in Tolkien’s context and his fiction, see Phillip Irving Mitchell, “‘But Grace Is Not Infinite’: Tolkien’s Explorations of Nature and Grace in His Catholic Context,” Mythlore 31.3/4 (Spring/Summer 2013): 61–81.