Biblical and Theological Commentary on The Silmarillion, Part 4
Akallabêth and Of the Rings of Power and the Third Age
(avg. read time: 24–47 mins.)
Númenor and Religion
This last part will address the last two chapters of The Silmarillion and what they say about the Second and Third Ages. The opening paragraph reiterates what the rest of the story has told us about Men, especially those known as the Edain who were allies of the Elves, as well as the vague rumors of the Fall that we noted in the previous part. The same problem of Morgoth’s enduring influence after Manwë sent him out of the world is also referenced. But to reward the Edain who supported the Elves and who fought alongside the Host of Valinor in the War of Wrath, the Valar gave to them an island where they could establish a kingdom. There, the people who would come to be known as the Dúnedain and the Númenóreans would attain a lifespan multiple times that of other Men. Their first king, Elros, was especially long lived at 500 years. But the fact of death remained for them as the doom/gift Ilúvatar had decreed for Men. The Valar could give them many gifts, but they could not withdraw the gift of mortality from Ilúvatar.
We do not learn nearly as much about the lives and practices of the Númenóreans in the Akallabêth as we do in other writings that we will explore later. For example, we do not know much about their worship here, although more is said about that matter in Unfinished Tales. Still, what we are told is that on the mountain in the middle of the island, called Meneltarma (the Pillar of Heaven), there was “a high place that was hallowed to Eru Ilúvatar, and it was open and unroofed, and no other temple or fane was there in the land of the Númenóreans” (“Akallabêth).
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 and 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 an equivalent to the high place on Meneltarma in 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.
Temptation
The Númenóreans enjoyed much prosperity, learned much wisdom, and grew in so many ways from their many interactions with the Elves and their rulers of the Uttermost West. They realized so much of human potential and were given free rein to do so as they explored the vast reaches of the Sea. That is, save for one restriction:
But the Lords of Valinor forbade them to sail so far westward that the coasts of Númenor could no longer be seen; and for long the Dúnedain were content, though they did not fully understand the purpose of the ban. But the design of Manwë was that the Númenóreans should not be tempted to seek for the Blessed Realm, nor desire to overpass the limits set to their bliss, becoming enamoured of the immortality of the Valar and the Eldar and the lands where all things endure. (“Akallabêth”)
The Númenóreans setting foot on the Undying Lands would change nothing about their nature. The Undying Lands are not undying because they grant immortality. It is simply that the undying live there. The Númenóreans attempting to travel to (much less reside) there would cause discontent with their creaturely limitations, here signified by their Gift or, as others would later prefer to call it, their Doom.
What is also notable in this particular text is how it foreshadows the dynamics of the Edenic story of Gen 2–3 that will reappear here. Only one command places any restriction on the Númenóreans’ freedom. They are free to sail as far as they want in any other direction but westward. And they do become great mariners exploring these other directions over the centuries. But eventually they chafe against this one restriction and desire that which is forbidden, as with Adam and Eve when tempted by the serpent. This is not to say that what happens to Númenor is the one-to-one correspondent with Eden in Tolkien’s story. The Fall of Man has already happened at this point in the story, but another fall is coming, and it is unsurprising that the actions of fallen humanity should continue to resemble what happened in Eden.
Death: Gift or Doom?
The most significant part of this chapter addresses the turn for the worse that happened in Númenor as a result of the unfulfilled yearning to sail to the West. As the chapter makes clear, this yearning was fundamentally about transgressing their creaturely limitation as they “began to hunger for the undying city that they saw from afar, and the desire of everlasting life, to escape from death and the ending of delight, grew strong upon them; and ever as their power and glory grew greater their unquiet increased” (“Akallabêth”).
The exchange on the matter between the messengers of the Valar and the Númenóreans well illustrate the issues at stake, and it ought to be quoted in full:
‘The Doom of the World,’ they said, ‘One alone can change who made it. And were you so to voyage that escaping all deceits and snares you came indeed to Aman, the Blessed Realm, little would it profit you. For it is not the land of Manwë that makes its people deathless, but the Deathless that dwell therein have hallowed the land; and there you would but wither and grow weary the sooner, as moths in a light too strong and steadfast.’
But the King said: ‘And does not Eärendil, my forefather, live? Or is he not in the land of Aman?’
To which they answered: ‘You know that he has a fate apart, and was adjudged to the Firstborn who die not; yet this also is his doom that he can never return to mortal lands. Whereas you and your people are not of the Firstborn, but are mortal Men as Ilúvatar made you. Yet it seems that you desire now to have the good of both kindreds, to sail to Valinor when you will, and to return when you please to your homes. That cannot be. Nor can the Valar take away the gifts of Ilúvatar. The Eldar, you say, are unpunished, and even those who rebelled do not die. Yet that is to them neither reward nor punishment, but the fulfillment of their being. They cannot escape, and are bound to this world, never to leave it so long as it lasts, for its life is theirs. And you are punished for the rebellion of Men, you say, in which you had small part, and so it is that you die. But that was not at first appointed for a punishment. Thus you escape, and leave the world, and are not bound to it, in hope or in weariness. Which of us therefore should envy the others?’
And the Númenóreans answered: ‘Why should we not envy the Valar, or even the least of the Deathless? For of us is required a blind trust, and a hope without assurance, knowing not what lies before us in a little while. And yet we also love the Earth and would not lose it.’
Then the Messengers said: ‘Indeed the mind of Ilúvatar concerning you is not known to the Valar, and he has not revealed all things that are to come. But this we hold to be true, that your home is not here, either in the Land of Aman nor anywhere within the Circles of the World. And the Doom of Men, that they should depart, was at first a gift of Ilúvatar. It became a grief to them only because coming under the shadow of Morgoth it seemed to them that they were surrounded by a great darkness, of which they were afraid; and some grew wilful and proud and would not yield, until life was reft from them. We who bear the ever-mounting burden of the years do not clearly understand this; but if that grief has returned to trouble you, as you say, then we fear that the Shadow arises once more and grows again in your hearts. Therefore, though you be Dúnedain, fairest of Men, who escaped from the Shadow of old and fought valiantly against it, we say to you: Beware! The will of Eru may not be gainsaid; and the Valar bid you earnestly not to withhold the trust to which you are called, lest soon it become again a bond by which you are constrained. Hope rather that in the end even the least of your desires shall have fruit. The love of Arda was set in your hearts by Ilúvatar, and he does not plant to no purpose. Nonetheless, many ages of Men unborn may pass ere that purpose is made known; and to you will be revealed and not to the Valar.’ (“Akallabêth”)
Again, this is not meant to be a direct presentation of Tolkien’s Primary World beliefs on death. It is filtered through proper Secondary World forms, and one must take into consideration the various perspectives represented therein. We have noted before the Elvish perspective that prevails in The Silmarillion, and this is something Tolkien himself noted. Even so, he does see a consistency with Primary World truth, as he articulated in a key statement in Letter #212 that we must quote again:
A divine ‘punishment’ is also a divine ‘gift’, if accepted, since its object is ultimate blessing, and the supreme inventiveness of the Creator will make ‘punishments’ (that is changes of design) produce a good not otherwise to be attained: a ‘mortal’ Man has probably (an Elf would say) a higher if unrevealed destiny than a longeval one. To attempt by device or ‘magic’ to recover longevity is thus a supreme folly and wickedness of ‘mortals’. Longevity or counterfeit ‘immortality’ (true immortality is beyond Eä) is the chief bait of Sauron – it leads the small to a Gollum, and the great to a Ringwraith.
We have already noted this quote and Scriptures related thereto, and we need not repeat everything here. But the discontent and the forsaking of this lesson is the root of the condition of the Númenóreans at this time, and it will also be the root of the condition of their descendants that Faramir will describe in LOTR (IV/5). In this obsession with death, they forgot how to live, including in their interest more in those who died before them than those who would take their place after their own deaths, perhaps out of jealousy that their descendants’ lives would continue after theirs ended. They had lost estel, as their ancestors are in the process of doing here, in seeking some sort of way past creaturely limitations set by the Creator. They had lost trust that death was not the end for them, even if it was the end of their time within the circles of the world. This letter and the framework it provides for Tolkien’s story and its central themes pertaining to mortality and immortality as a whole supplies a clearer reconciliation on par with the fictional work found in Morgoth’s Ring between his story and the biblical presentation of death in the larger sweep of the canon than various statements like this in his stories. But I would suggest there were all along elements of his accounts that were closer to what can be found in the Bible than he initially saw.
We see in Letter #156 that mortality in Tolkien’s Secondary World is not a punishment for Men, but a Gift, one that even the Valar, bound as they are to the current created order for as long as it exists, could come to envy. In a marred world well short of the new creation that will be created by the Second Music, perpetual life can become a source of constant sorrow, rather than constant joy. For many of the Elves who lived through the travails of the First Age, then the diminishing of the Elves in the Second Age, followed by their ultimate dwindling while watching the darkness wax in the Third Age, it is easy to see how such weariness can accumulate to a burden of unimaginable weight (cf. Letter #245). There is to come a time of new creation in which even this mortality is voided, but mortality is not in essence a punishment. It becomes that way due to rebellion against the will of the One brought on by the shadow of Morgoth’s deception, which tends to manifest in Arda in terms of fear of death, envy of immortality, reluctance to accept mortality, and even contempt for the same. In a similar way, death as simply the end of a transient existence is not, in and of itself, a punishment. But it becomes an affliction on the world when it is combined with sin. Adam and Eve were not immortal by nature (hence the tree of life), but they could become immortal. Then with sin causing the rupture in the relationship with God, they were exiled from the garden, forbidden from ever partaking of the tree of life. This was both a punishment—in that Adam and Eve were not allowed to partake of both the tree of the knowledge of good and evil and then the tree of life afterwards—as well as a hidden grace in that such a sinful and broken existence was not allowed to perpetuate forever. Thus, death became intertwined with this exile caused by sin to become the ultimate end of sin, the ultimate end of Godforsaken existence. Death does not have this same sense for those who are in union with the risen Christ and thus the God who raises the dead, since death becomes like a temporary state of sleep for them, after which they will awaken to the resurrection of everlasting life (hence death being described as “sleep” in the OT and NT and some of the frequent terms for resurrection having the sense of “waking up”).
Tolkien again noted in Letter #186 how the Elves, with the weariness of time in a broken world, come to envy the mortality that is Eru Ilúvatar’s Gift to Men, while many Men, faced with the cloud of uncertainty beyond death, envy the Elves’ immortality and wish, in their shortsightedness, that they too could continue in perpetuity in the circles of the world. Such is the nature of humans in a Christian anthropology that they are part of creation, being creatures in many ways similar to animals, but in that they are image-bearers of God, they also transcend the rest of creation in a way. In this in-between status, they ideally represent creation to God in worship and they represent God to creation in stewardly rule.
In both the Primary World and the Secondary World, the attachment to creation combined with the reality of death ultimately points to something more for humans. In Tolkien’s Secondary World it is noted from the outset of The Silmarillion that there will be a Second Music, in which the Children of Ilúvatar will join with the Ainur, from which a new creation will come. And in what comes from this Second Music immortality will attain its fullness and the desires of both Elves and Men will be fulfilled in the promises of Eru. In the Primary World, the “something more” will come about through the eschatological resurrection to and transformation for everlasting life and the new creation.
What would seem to be most conflicting in Tolkien’s letters is his statement in Letter #208, “But certainly Death is not an Enemy!” Of course, as we see in 1 Cor 15:20–26 and 53–57, being the most vivid and not the only such declarations, that is exactly how death, as a power, is regarded biblically speaking. Tolkien would be more careful in Letter #212 about reconciling such a statement with Christian theology, but it is important to note that when Tolkien referred to death in this context, he was not referring to the allying force of sin as such, which is Paul’s referent in 1 Cor 15. Rather, this is a reference to death as the simple end of transient existence, the end for mortality. In the biblical case, the reference to death is informed by Eden and the whole sweep of the biblical narrative, particularly in terms of the connection of sin and death. In Tolkien’s case, this is simply referring to mortality vs. immortality in the context of the world as it presently is.
While Tolkien noted that there is an overall Elvish framework in regard to describing death as gift in his mythology, he provided the crucial point in Letter #212 of how, regardless of how death came to be, it can be accepted as divine gift. Such a teaching of how apparent or actual divine punishment can be a divine gift if accepted is informed by his own experience of loss and hardship since his youth, through which he was sustained by the Catholic faith his mother inculcated in him. Ultimately, this notion is animated by the fact that we follow the God who raised Jesus from the dead and so through his death on the cross, especially in how it functions as propitiation, God brought about a good that could not be attained otherwise and made Jesus the foundation of his grand salvific edifice. In the process, what God will bring about in the eschaton is not merely some return to Eden (cf. Letter #96), but it will be a bestowal of everlasting life that utterly conquers every trace of death, being the result of union with God that comes only by the work of God in Christ, as well as a residence with God forever in the new Jerusalem/new creation, which is Eden fulfilled rather than simply Eden redux.2
And as we earlier noted in the case of Bëor, one point to return to in this description is his focus on the idea of “acceptance” of death as such. For Men in Tolkien’s story, this is what tends to separate those among Men who describe death as the Gift of Men and those who describe death as the Doom of Men. In this story’s theoretical framework, a good Man would die voluntarily when the time came “by surrender with trust before being compelled” (Letter #212; emphasis original). 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.
And here Tolkien showed the distinct influence of his Catholic theology in how he linked this idea with Catholic Mariology. On the one hand, 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 of how 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.”3
Númenor’s Decline
This exchange happened in the days of Tar-Atanamir, but he and many of his people took no comfort in what the messengers from the West told them. As the narrator says,
they wished still to escape death in their own day, not waiting upon hope. And Atanmir lived to a great age, clinging to his life beyond the end of all joy; and he was the first of the Númenóreans to do this, refusing to depart until he was witless and unmanned, and denying to his son the kingship at the height of his days. For the Lords of Númenor had been wont to wed late in their long lives and to depart and leave the mastery to their sons when these were come to full stature of body and mind.
Then Tar-Ancalimon, son of Atanmir, became King, and he was of like mind; and in his day the people of Númenor became divided. On the one hand was the greater party, and they were called the King’s Men, and they grew proud and were estranged from the Eldar and the Valar. And on the other hand was the lesser party, and they were called the Elendili, the Elf-friends; for though they remained loyal indeed to the King and the House of Elros, they wished to keep the friendship of the Eldar, and they hearkened to the counsel of the Lord of the West. Nonetheless even they, who named themselves the Faithful, did not wholly escape from the affliction of their people, and they were troubled by the thought of death. (“Akallabêth”)
The first sentence signifies the fundamental failing as being one of the loss of estel. Likewise, it is not for nothing that the portion of the Númenóreans upholding the traditional values and allegiances is called the Faithful. They are the ones who maintained estel in Eru. Even though they could not but be troubled by death and the cloud of unknowing on the other side of it, there was a clearer and growing dividing line among the Númenóreans that was centered on how they regarded death and, by extension, the Eldar and the Valar and what they received from them. On one side were “the King’s Men,” who were fearful of death (the “Doom” of Men) and thus became estranged from those who they thought were withholding immortality from them. And on the other side were the “Faithful,” who maintained their estel in Eru Ilúvatar, accepted his Gift, and maintained friendship with those of the Uttermost West. As Tolkien said in a footnote of Letter #156, “A good Númenórean died of free will when he felt it to be time to do so.” The description of Atanmir marks the breach with this tradition, of which Bëor was the first cited precedent thousands of years previously.
What is also notable about this description is how it is analogous to a dynamic we see at multiple points of Scripture. Even when Israel as a whole rebels against God, there remains a faithful remnant. Elijah once thought of himself as being alone in resisting the worship of Baal in Israel as they turned against the God of their ancestors. Elijah was responsible for keeping the faith when others would not, thereby being a faithful prophetic messenger of God, and all that was his responsibility was to continue to do so for as long as he lived, whatever tides may come. But the Lord informed him, particularly at a time when Elijah felt alone in the struggle that he would have a successor, that the Lord had other instruments, and there were yet 7,000 in Israel who were faithful to the Lord (1 Kgs 19:13–18). This includes the hundred prophets Obadiah hid, which he informed Elijah about, but whom Elijah had apparently disregarded in his anxiety (1 Kgs 18:1–16).
Similarly, one can recall Rev 2–3. The responsibility the churches addressed therein are given is to persevere in faithfulness and love or to return to the same. Particularly noteworthy are the faithful among the church in Thyatira, who are told simply, “only hold fast what you have until I should come” (Rev 2:25, personal translation). Likewise, the faithful church in Philadelphia is described as having little power but as still holding to Jesus’s word and not denying his name (Rev 3:8), and they are instructed simply, “hold on to that which you have, in order that no one might take your crown” (Rev 3:11, personal translation). Then, as now, it is simply good for persecuted and suffering Christians to hold fast to the faith, to be faithful in what little they have responsibility for, and to persevere in resisting the temptation to assimilate to the world that would have them abandon their faith, love, and hope. And the fact that the letters to these churches are included in one document that all seven of the assemblies were to read was not only to provide an extra layer of accountability for each assembly; it also reminded the suffering faithful that they were not alone in their struggle, no matter how much the enemy powers sought to make such an impression of isolation on them. Furthermore, these churches were engaged in a struggle that we see is pervasive across the NT, as is the call to the perseverance of the suffering faithful.
The significance of the remnant theme continues elsewhere in Revelation (most vividly in Rev 7:1–8). This is not only appropriate for an apocalyptic text directed to faithful Christian under pressure to assimilate to a world hostile to God. It is also appropriate for a prophetic text clearly incorporating themes and promises across Scripture, including that of the faithful remnant (Isa 10:20–22; 11:10–16; Jer 23:3–8; 31:7–40; Dan 12:1–3; Mic 2:12–13; 4:1–7; 5:7–9; 7:18–20; Zeph 3:11–13; Zech 8:11–23; 13:8–9; cf. John 5:21–29; Rom 11:5). And so it is also that this broad scriptural theme appears here in Tolkien’s story as well, albeit in an appropriate Secondary World form.
Given the Christian framework informing Tolkien’s fiction, albeit manifesting in appropriate Secondary World forms, it is also understandable that we see Númenor’s decline manifest in religious ways as well. As the narrator informs us, “But those that lived turned more eagerly to pleasure and revelry, desiring ever more goods and more riches; and after the days of Tar-Ancalimon the offering of the first fruits to Eru was neglected, and men went seldom any more to the Hallow upon the heights of Meneltarma in the midst of the land” (“Akallabêth”). This resembles the decline of Israel and Judah, as the people largely either neglected worship of God in giving their worship to other gods, or they kept their rituals and sacrifices while neglecting the more important matters of righteousness/justice, as one can see throughout the Prophets and the books of history. Moreover, as the pre-exilic Prophets particularly show, there is a resemblance in how the Númenóreans become more exploitative in their desire for wealth and dominion. Númenor is more powerful in their setting than the kingdoms of Israel and Judah were in theirs, and so their exploitation extends more into other realms. They had once been benefactors of other Men in Middle-earth, working much good among them even when they did not dwell for long in their midst. It had even been said that “Men shook off the yoke of the offspring of Morgoth, and unlearned their terror of the dark” (“Akallabêth”). But now they made themselves lords of these less powerful and less longeval Men, forsaking their devotion upwards to seek for dominion downwards. And those who reminded them that they ought to be otherwise, the Faithful, were corralled and persecuted.
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. But generally speaking, the divide amidst the kingdom remained, and the Númenóreans were on a downward slope of spiritual decline. And the following statement is similar to the comment about how the Lord did not turn his wrath away because of what Manasseh did before the reign of Josiah simply because Josiah was a good king (2 Kgs 23:26; 24:3): “But his repentance was too late to appease the anger of the Valar with the insolence of his fathers, of which the greater part of his people did not repent” (“Akallabêth”).
Sauron Accelerates the Fall of Númenor
There is another respect in which Númenor was comparable to the kingdom of Israel, both united and divided. Their time of greatest prosperity under Solomon also witnessed a great spiritual decline. Likewise, economically speaking, the Northern Kingdom of Israel reached its peak in the Omride dynasty, particularly the time of Omri and Ahab. But this was also the time that portended the destruction of the kingdom as it was a time of accelerated spiritual decline in idolatry.
Finally, when Númenor was peaking in its military might, the last king, Ar-Pharazôn, challenged Sauron. So overwhelming were the Númenóreans that Sauron’s forces fled before them, and Sauron was taken captive back to Númenor. Then Sauron engineered the kingdom’s downfall from within by becoming an advisor to Ar-Pharazôn, and he slowly worked his skills of manipulation and deception. By his word, the situation of the Faithful became ever more precarious and “many fell away out of fear” (“Akallabêth”). As in biblical teaching, when the pressure increases, those who identify with the faithful remnant tend to fall away, as their faith does not survive the tests put to it (Matt 13:21 // Mark 4:17 // Luke 8:13; Matt 24:10; 26:31 // Mark 14:27; 1 Tim 4:1; Heb 6:1–6).
Sauron even insisted that there were lands to explore and conquer beyond what the Númenóreans could grasp. And beyond them all was the Ancient Darkness, “And out of it the world was made. For Darkness alone is worshipful, and the Lord thereof may yet make other worlds to be gifts to those that serve him, so that the increase of their power shall find no end” (“Akallabêth”). And so he corrupts their very metaphysic, making them think that darkness is a thing unto itself and that it is itself generative and creative. The one who is the Lord or Master of the Darkness is thus presented as the Creator in a Satanic corruption of the truth when Sauron tells Ar-Pharazôn about this Lord of Darkness:
It is he whose name is not now spoken; for the Valar have deceived you concerning him, putting forward the name of Eru, a phantom devised in the folly of their hearts, seeking to enchain Men in servitude to themselves. For they are the oracle of this Eru, which speaks only what they will. But he that is their master shall yet prevail, and he will deliver you from this phantom; and his name is Melkor, Lord of All, Giver of Freedom, and he shall make you stronger than they. (“Akallabêth”)
Again, though the form is appropriate to the Secondary World, there is clearly some link between this declaration and various deceptions prevalent in the Primary World whereby the devil and his minions would seek to obscure knowledge of the true God. And it is a lie Sauron himself does not believe, as we are later told that even though Sauron and Ar-Pharazôn established a cult devoted to Melkor and the Meneltarma was utterly deserted, “not even Sauron dared to defile the high place” (“Akallabêth”). This reflects the truth of Jas 2:19 that even the demons believe in God and tremble in fear because of it. But that is merely because they know too well to convince themselves to be theoretical atheists. Yet their belief bears no fruit, and so they are cited as an example in the teaching of Jas 2:14–28 of fruitless belief that leads to no fitting works. Sauron, being a fallen angel himself, appropriately fits this characterization as someone who cannot make himself believe that there is no God, even as he works to deceive others into believing what he knows to be a lie.
Still, although Sauron and his puppet would not dare to defile it, Ar-Pharazôn decreed that no one should ascend to it, lest they be put to death, “even those of the Faithful who kept Ilúvatar in their hearts” (“Akallabêth”). This further demonstrates the nature of the theological picture presented in Tolkien’s fiction. As we have noted already, Tolkien presents only one God, the God, as deserving of worship. Others can at best only occupy the imaginative place of gods, being divine beings who existed before the world, but they do not occupy the theological place of other gods. Yet there certainly are false gods. For now, it is Melkor. But Sauron also shall seek to make himself as a god to those he dominates. To reiterate a point made earlier, the fundamental conflict of LOTR and of Tolkien’s larger story presented in The Silmarillion,
is not basically about ‘freedom’, though that is naturally involved. It is about God, and His sole right to divine honour. The Eldar and the Númenóreans believed in The One, the true God, and held worship of any other person an abomination. Sauron desired to be a God-King, and was held to be this by his servants; if he had been victorious he would have demanded divine honour from all rational creatures and absolute temporal power over the whole world. (Letter #183)
Sauron does at least convince Ar-Pharazôn to cut down Nimloth, the sign of their traditional bond with the Lords of the West and their allegiance to the One they represent. But for all that he has given into Sauron, Ar-Pharazôn is reluctant to do this, since he believed Tar-Palantir’s words that the fate of his house is bound up with the tree, not because he valued anything it signified. Isildur uses the delay to retrieve a fruit to save some remnant of this scion of Telperion, and this despite it being guarded day and night. He scarcely made it out alive, but he preserved this sign of the Faithful’s allegiance, which produced a sapling they would take to Middle-earth, along with the palantíri, various artifacts of their kingdom, and “the knowledge of the True God” (Letter #156).
Meanwhile, Sauron not only prevails in cutting down the tree; he also causes a great temple to be built dedicated to Melkor. Sauron deceived them into thinking that by human sacrifice to Melkor they could attain freedom from death:
Thereafter the fire and smoke went up without ceasing; for the power of Sauron daily increased, and in that temple, with spilling of blood and torment and great wickedness, men made sacrifice to Melkor that he should release them from Death. And most often from among the Faithful they chose their victims; yet never openly on the charge that they would not worship Melkor, the Giver of Freedom, rather was cause sought against them that they hated the King and were his rebels, or that they plotted against their kin, devising lies and poisons. These charges were for the most part false; yet those were bitter days, and hate brings forth hate.
This is reminiscent of sacrifices to Molech (Lev 18:21; 20:2–5; 2 Kgs 23:10; Jer 32:35), although the victims are drawn from the persecuted faithful, rather than simply from their own children. In a dark parody of the gospel story encapsulated in the Eucharist, whereby God overcomes death by Jesus’s death and resurrection, these deaths in blasphemous rituals are presented as the way to overcome death, to escape it once and for all. Yet none who bought this lie stopped to realize that they never accomplished what was promised: But for all this Death did not depart from the land, rather it came sooner and more often, and in many dreadful guises” (“Akallabêth”).
Finally, Sauron makes his move to assure Númenor’s destruction, completing his designs of overthrowing his enemy from within. He convinces Ar-Pharazôn to finally act on the belief that many Númenóreans had already convinced themselves of: that everlasting life will come to the one who possesses the Undying Lands. Moreover, rule over these lands would assure Númenor’s rule over the entire world, and that this reign would be everlasting. Ar-Pharazôn is especially inclined to take this advice not only because of Sauron’s many years of deception. Ar-Pharazôn himself is getting old and nearing the end of his life. If ever he is to find a way to escape death, he must find it soon.
Ilúvatar Changes the World
Conversely, Amandil, Elendil’s father, instructs the Faithful to depart for Middle-earth, to take with them the aforementioned possessions. But Amandil himself will dare to sail into the Uttermost West to see if he can do as his ancestor Eärendil had done in appealing to the pity of the Valar. He knows that he himself would be violating the Ban the Valar put on the Númenóreans sailing too far west, but he will bear the penalty if it means his people can be saved. Since this is against the wishes of the king, Elendil asks if he would indeed do as the Faithful have been accused by being traitors and spies against the king. Amandil responds, “If I thought that Manwë needed such a messenger … I would betray the King. For there is but one loyalty from which no man can be absolved in heart for any cause” (“Akallabêth”). This is the loyalty that belongs to the only One worthy of worship, the loyalty that demands, “we must obey God rather than humans” (Acts 5:29; cf. Dan 3). That is what the reference to Manwë stands for in this setting, after all, given that Manwë is Ilúvatar’s designated vicegerent.
In the end, Ar-Pharazôn sails into the West with his fleet of 1,000 ships, while Amandil sails in a singular ship, never to be heard from again. Upon the former’s landing, “Manwë upon the Mountain called upon Ilúvatar, and for that time the Valar laid down their government of Arda. But Ilúvatar showed forth his power, and he changed the fashion of the world; and a great chasm opened in the sea between Númenor and the Deathless Lands, and the waters flowed down into it, and the noise and smoke of the cataracts went up to heaven, and the world was shaken” (“Akallabêth”). Ar-Pharazôn and his armies are buried in the Caves of the Forgotten beneath the falling hills, where it is said that they will lie “until the Last Battle and the Day of Doom” (“Akallabêth”). Aman and the island of Eressëa are removed from the world while Númenor is swallowed in the cataclysm.
And yet, in this expression of divine judgment there is also divine grace. As in the Noah story (a comparison Tolkien makes in Letter #156), a faithful remnant is saved amidst the very cataracts of doom. Even as Elendil’s fleet was caught in the waves of destruction, that same destruction produced a wind greater than any of them had ever known, which swept them to safety. So ended the island kingdom of Númenor, but it was not the end of the Númenóreans.
And so also ended the current incarnation of Sauron, as he was destroyed in the wreck of Númenor that served as the initial judgment of God against him. This judgment thus constitutes an example of what Tolkien would describe as a “miracle,” since Eru “reserves the right to intrude the finger of God into the story: that is to produce realities which could not be deduced even from a complete knowledge of the previous past, but which being real become part of the effective past for all subsequent time (a possible definition of a ‘miracle’)” (Letter #181). With this notion of “miracle” in mind, he said that Sauron was here “defeated by a ‘miracle’: a direct action of God the Creator, changing the fashion of the world” (Letter #211). The fact that Sauron survives this initial judgment is something he sees as reflecting reality and his Christian beliefs concerning it: “the problem of evil, and its apparent toleration, is a permanent one for all who concern themselves with our world. The indestructibility of spirits with free wills, even by the Creator of them, is also an inevitable feature, if one either believes in their existence, or feigns it in a story” (Letter #211; emphasis original). The problem of evil is thus something this story must incorporate, as we have seen that it does at many levels. After all, there is no expectation that evil will be ultimately defeated and eradicated within the normal scope of history. There is no solution to the problem of evil without eschatology, the expression of which is influenced by Tolkien’s Christian eschatology.
This was also the first time Sauron’s incarnate form was destroyed, and it had such an effect on him that he could never assume a fair form again but only a hideous one. Previously, like Satan, he could masquerade as one like an angel of light (cf. 2 Cor 11:14), as he deceived the Elves into the forging of the Rings of Power while he was in the disguise of Annatar, Lord of Gifts. But now, he aims to work primarily through intimidation, terror, and despair.
Sauron’s Failed Repentance
The final chapter, “Of the Rings of Power and the Third Age,” begins with the story of Sauron. It briefly recaps his origin of how he became Sauron. It also notes that when Morgoth was overthrown, Sauron came to do obeisance before Eönwë, Manwë’s herald, renouncing his evil deeds. The narrator even says, “some hold that this was not at first falsely done, but that Sauron in truth repented, if only out of fear being dismayed by the fall of Morgoth and the great wrath of the Lords of the West” (“Of the Rings of Power”). Tolkien even says elsewhere that he began with fair motives of reorganizing and rehabilitating the ruins of Middle-earth (Letter #131). Likewise, he notes in Letter #153, “at the beginning of the Second Age he was still beautiful to look at, or could still assume a beautiful visible shape – and was not indeed wholly evil, not unless all ‘reformers’ who want to hurry up with ‘reconstruction’ and ‘reorganization’ are wholly evil, even before pride and the lust to exert their will eat them up.”
And pride, with the accompanying overweening exertion of his own will, would be key to Sauron’s ultimate failure to see his claimed repentance through. For no matter how sincere his motive was, Eönwë informs him that it is not within his power to pardon Sauron, since they are equals. Rather, Sauron would need to submit himself to Manwë’s judgment in Valinor. And so we are told, “Then Sauron was ashamed, and he was unwilling to return in humiliation and to receive from the Valar a sentence, it might be, of long servitude in proof of his good faith; for under Morgoth his power had been great. Therefore when Eönwë departed he hid himself in Middle-earth; and he fell back into evil, for the bonds that Morgoth had laid upon him were very strong” (“Of the Rings of Power”). This illustrates one of the reasons why humility is such an important virtue. Without humility, there can be no repentance. Without repentance, there can be no reconciliation and all that good that comes therefrom.
A Part Appointed
The chapter then charts the story of Sauron’s rise, his work in helping the Elves to forge the Rings of Power for his own ends, his war with the Elves, his war with the Last Alliance, and the course of the Third Age. In the process, we are told of Elrond, who inherited Gil-galad’s ring Vilya. As in The Hobbit and LOTR, we are also told of how good his place of Imladris was. One particularly noteworthy point for its phrasing is this comment: “In that house were harboured the Heirs of Isildur, in childhood and old age, because of the kinship of their blood with Elrond himself, and because he knew in his wisdom that one should come of their line to whom a great part was appointed in the last deeds of that Age” (“Of the Rings of Power”).
On the one hand, this attests to the gift of foresight Elrond has received, as several others in this story have. On the other hand, the larger story of The Silmarillion makes more obvious the kind of question we see implicitly raised many times in LOTR: appointed by who? This refers to the providential action of Eru Ilúvatar, who has appointed Aragorn to play a major part in the fulfillment of the hopes of the Third Age, for which reason he will be called Estel.
The Wizards
We are also told of the coming of the Istari, the Wizards, over the Sea. And we are told, “afterwards it was said among the Elves that they were messengers sent by the Lords of the West to contest the power of Sauron, if he should arise again, and to move Elves and Men and all living things of good will to valiant deeds” (“Of the Rings of Power”). This comports with what Tolkien wrote about the Wizards’ mission in Middle-earth in his letters (as well as LOTR). They had been sent by the Valar to “train, advise, instruct, arouse the hearts and minds of those threatened by Sauron to a resistance with their own strengths; and not just to do the job for them” (Letter #156). By these means, they were to help the Free Peoples operate by the strength the One had given them, rather than simply being reliant on the more powerful Wizards to do what needed to be done. The incarnate nature of the Wizards was to hinder exhibitions of power, but it also presented plenty of temptations to fail in the mission, as we have seen with Saruman. According to Tolkien,
Gandalf alone fully passes the tests, on a moral plane anyway (he makes mistakes of judgement). For in his condition it was for him a sacrifice to perish on the Bridge in defence of his companions, less perhaps than for a mortal Man or Hobbit, since he had a far greater inner power than they; but also more, since it was a humbling and abnegation of himself in conformity to ‘the Rules’: for all he could know at that moment he was the only person who could direct the resistance to Sauron successfully, and all his mission was vain. He was handing over to the Authority that ordained the Rules, and giving up personal hope of success. (Letter #156; emphases original)
I have further discussed the theological-ethical framing of this mission elsewhere.
Resulting Doom
Much of the rest of the chapter is not especially pertinent to our interests, but there are scattered remarks that fit with points we have observed elsewhere. For example, in line with what we have seen elsewhere about the use of the language of “doom,” we see this remark from Elrond: “In the hour that Isildur took the Ring and would not surrender it, this doom was wrought, that Sauron should return” (“Of the Rings of Power”). As with other uses of “doom” in this story and “fate” in LOTR, sometimes it applies to outcomes/consequences of choices.
Hints of Providence
The rest of the quotes of interest refer to the operations of Providence in language resembling what we have seen in LOTR. Elrond speaks to Gandalf that he foreboded that the One Ring will be found, and the Third Age will end in darkness, “unless some strange chance deliver us that my eyes cannot see” (“Of the Rings of Power”). Elrond may have received the gift of foresight, but it is obviously not total in scope, nor is everything he does foresee equally clear. (This will be something to examine in more depth as Tolkien engages in the matter of foresight and foreknowledge in a work preserved in The Nature of Middle-earth.) And so Gandalf replies, “Many are the strange chances of the world … and help oft shall come from the hands of the weak when the Wise falter” (“Of the Rings of Power”). This fits with other quotes of his in LOTR, as well as important framing quotes from Elrond and the narrator of LOTR, as we noted earlier in reference to Beren and Lúthien’s story. Such are the surprising instruments of Providence.
Indeed, we are told later that both of their foresights proved true: “Then in the midst of gathering fear and the rumour of war the foreboding of Elrond was proved true, and the One Ring was indeed found again, by a chance more strange than even Mithrandir had foreseen; and it was hidden from Curunír and Sauron” (“Of the Rings of Power”). Gandalf himself would note these strange chances in his long conversation with Frodo in LOTR. And he will frame such events, especially that of Bilbo finding the Ring and it passing on to Frodo as something that was “meant” to happen (I/2).
Providence is also invoked in the fact that Gandalf is the one who learned of the Ring before Sauron: “Now by fortune and his vigilance Mithrandir first learned of the Ring, ere Sauron had news of it” (“Of the Rings of Power”). This shows the value of vigilance, especially when it is for a long time and seems, therefore, to be interminable. There is no substitute for it. And just as with courage, vigilance also can be taken up Providence and directed to a great end, as happens here in the form of what is referred to as “fortune.”
Charlotte and Denis Plimmer, “The Man Who Understands Hobbits,” Daily Telegraph Magazine (22 March, 1968), 35 (emphasis original).
Similarly, as Finrod says, “For that Arda Healed shall not be Arda Unmarred, but a third thing and a greater, and yet the same.” Tolkien, Morgoth’s Ring, 318.
Ordway similarly speaks of Mary being the perfect disciples in being “always focused on leading others to Jesus,” and she further clarifies, “In Catholic terminology, latria is the Latin word for the form of adoration or worship that may properly be given to God alone. The saints may receive only respect or veneration (dulia), and the Blessed Virgin Mary, as the archetypal disciples, may receive special veneration (hyperdulia).” Ordway, Tolkien’s Faith, 144.