On today’s menu is something shorter and a little more paranetic. I was reminded of two texts this morning: one is a patristic commentary on the NT, the other an expanded thought about a fictional character. Both concern humility.
First, from John Chrysostom’s remarks about Christ’s flight to Egypt:
Besides what I have said, there is another lesson also to be learned, which tends powerfully toward true self-constraint in us. We are warned from the beginning to look out for temptations and plots. And we see this even when he came in swaddling clothes. Thus you see even at his birth a tyrant raging, a flight ensuing and a departure beyond the border. For it was because of no crime that his family was exiled into the land of Egypt. Similarly, you yourself need not be troubled if you are suffering countless dangers. Do not expect to be celebrated or crowned promptly for your troubles. Instead you may keep in mind the long-suffering example of the mother of the Child, bearing all things nobly, knowing that such a fugitive life is consistent with the ordering of spiritual things. You are sharing the same kind of labor Mary herself shared. So did the magi. They were both willing to retire secretly in the humiliating role of fugitive.[1]
Do not expect to be crowned promptly. After all, the slave is not greater than his Master. I, on the other hand—to my regular and afflicting disappointment—routinely expect swift recognition and adulation, for achievements and sacrifices both real and insubstantial. Reading this homily, one also cannot help but think of Chrysostom’s unjust exile about a decade later for his principles, leading to an early death.
No doubt zeal for recognition particularly infests academics, intellectuals, and writers of blogs, insofar as recognition and prestige are the main currency we tend to traffic in—other than all the copious gold bricks, that is. While pondering this, Chrysostom reminded me of something I had read once in Tolkien about the kind of virtue he was trying to illustrate through the character of Gandalf. Here’s the full passage from one of his letters:
Why [the Istari wizards] should take such a form is bound up with the ‘mythology’ of the ‘angelic’ Powers of the world of this fable. At this point in the fabulous history the purpose was precisely to limit and hinder their exhibition of ‘power’ on the physical plane, and so that they should do what they were primarily sent for: 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. They thus appeared as old ‘sage’ figures. But in this ‘mythology’ all the ‘angelic’ powers concerned with this world were capable of many degrees of error and failing between the absolute Satanic rebellion and evil of Morgoth and his satellite Sauron, and the fainéance of some of the other higher powers or ‘gods’. The ‘wizards’ were not exempt, indeed being incarnate were more likely to stray, or err. 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 on the Bridge [with the Balrog, leading to his death] in defence of this 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 in vain. He was handing over to the Authority that ordained the rules, and giving up personal hope of success. That I should say is what the Authority wished, as a set-off to Saruman.[2]
A compelling extra layer to an already compelling subplot in the Lord of the Rings—and of course, the mind naturally goes to all the biblical archetypes at work behind it, not least Philippians 2. Whenever I read Tolkien on this point, I am also struck by the emphasis on personal virtue, obedience, and office over pure outcomes, including noble ones. This is a welcome and timely reminder to keep faith and take courage—even when accolades are not immediately forthcoming.
From Chrysostom’s homily 8.2 on Matthew, translation from Manlio Simonetti, ed., Matthew 1-13, Ancient Christian Commentary on Scripture, New Testament Ia (Downers Grove, Illinois: IVP Academic, 2001), 31. ↑
Letter 156 to Robert Murray, S.J. in J. R. R. Tolkien, The Letters of J.R.R. Tolkien, ed. Humphrey Carpenter and Christopher Tolkien (Boston: Houghton Mifflin, 1981), 202. ↑