Aragorn: a model of Anglican Ministry
- Stuart Hull
- 4 days ago
- 7 min read
The Lord of the Rings is a grand adventure which Tolkien himself described as a profoundly Christian and Catholic work. With this in mind, is it appropriate to delve its depths for wisdom that applies specifically to Anglican ministry? Since the professor did not intend his story to be a direct allegory, and intentionally included elements from mythology in his works, he hopefully wouldn’t mind an Anglican drawing some hope from the deep reservoir of inspiration that the battle for Middle-Earth contains.
"All that is gold does not glitter, Not all those who wander are lost; The old that is strong does not wither, Deep roots are not reached by the frost."
The words quoted above summarise a man that we will later learn is not only a skilled ranger, but also a king. Yet Aragorn is first introduced to us in person, in the darkened corner of an inn. He is a cloaked figure, shrouded amongst the inn’s many patrons, observing some hobbits that he shall soon lead upon a most dangerous adventure. In much of the story Aragorn is accompanied by little of the fanfare expected from someone of royal lineage. He is a warrior from the North, rugged, and used to sleeping and fighting in the wilderness. Frodo himself comments that were Aragorn an agent of the enemy, seeking to deceive the
hobbits, he would have taken upon himself a more noble appearance.
Aragorn, who is also known as Strider at this point in the story, leads the hobbits through the wilderness as they are pursued by a fearsome enemy, and points them to the safety of Rivendell. He goes on to play a leading role in the Fellowship of the Ring as they set out on the long journey to strange lands including, for Frodo and Sam, the land of Mordor. Aragorn stays faithful to the Fellowship as they traverse the Mines of Moria, and offers comfort to the dying Boromir at Amon Hen. He endures a siege, walks the paths of the dead, and leads armies.
How does he endure and lead others through such perils? Tolkien offers several answers in the manner by Aragorn conducts himself. Ultimately it is because Aragorn knows who he is, and in knowing himself and his purpose, he stays true to both. However, Aragorn’s truth is not manifested through his lived experience or found by looking within himself. There is no sense that he is defined by his needs or his desires.
Aragorn is a man that is granted indomitable resilience because he feels duty-bound to uphold the vocation and mission of those who went before him. He is defined by what we might call Narrative Resilience. His identity and goals are defined by being bound to a tradition that he has inherited from the grand narrative of the people of Gondor and Númenor.
When Aragorn speaks of safeguarding the helpless and fighting evil in defence of the innocent, he states:
"Peace and freedom, do you say? The North would have known them little but for us…That has been the task of my kindred, while the years have lengthened and the grass has grown."
Aragorn is not a lone agent, renegotiating his purpose and his values according to the communities in which he serves. He is a standard bearer of a long-standing narrative of self-sacrifice and hope, and the same is ultimately true of Anglican ministers.
Like the Ranger of the North, Anglican ministers are bound to a historic tradition of faithfulness and purpose, which they have received because of the courage and self-sacrifice of those that have gone before them. This received identity is very apparent in the moment in which the prospective Anglican minister makes their Oath of Assent prior to ordination. Of course, all Christians rightly claim membership and participation within the ministry of the gospel. Aragorn is not the only hero of the Lord of the Rings: hobbits, elves and many others can claim that title. However, for ordained C of E Anglicans, their purpose is defined within a specific inheritance of faith. The C of E minister’s understanding of salvation is not self-defined or individually determined; neither is the C of E’s definition of sin, hope, or the end which all ministry serves, namely Jesus.
The preface to the C of E’s declaration of assent for ordained ministry highlights that the Church of England is bound to the historic authority and ministry of the apostles, the Holy Scriptures and the catholic creeds, in the proper worship of the triune God. In addition to this, Anglican ministers are required to assent that the Thirty-Nine Articles, The Book of Common Prayer and the Ordinal have faithfully “borne witness to Christian truth”. A high standard indeed.
More than this, all such ministers are called to affirm that each of these sources of authority, including the articles, are their “inspiration and guidance under God in bringing the grace and truth of Christ to this generation…”
Anglican ministers have inherited this identity, which forms the core of our ordination service, through the legacy we have received in the vision and sacrifices of believers like Cranmer, Ridley and Tyndale. In the battles that we face today, we must remember that we were not charged at our ordination service to try to recontextualise our theology according to our context, or to look within our inner selves for the truth.
We were given an inheritance of faith, and we voluntarily bound ourselves to articles of religion which profess that the greatest danger any human faces is separation from God, and the greatest hope is to know Jesus as the only means by which we are reunited with Him.
Our narrative resilience is holding this banner of faith high in all aspects of our ministry. Banners in the Lord of the Rings are a rallying cry to draw people together under a meaningful identity, in order to become purposeful in upholding shared values. For values to be meaningful they must transcend the needs of any individual age: they must possess a timeless quality, for humanity is faced with the greatest question; to know God or to reject Him.
This truth is well mirrored in the contrast between Aragorn and another leader of Gondor, the Steward, Denethor. When the story progresses onto the city of Minas Tirith, we are introduced to a man who has been charged to protect Gondor, but who will soon slip into despair. Unlike the brave but often understated Aragorn, Denethor is a proud man clothed in civic majesty. He wears fine robes in marble-lined halls of stone, and he concocts strategies and plans by which the institution of Gondor is protected and its reputation as a great power upheld. Denethor seeks to hold onto the grandeur and influence of his people’s narrative, and is more than content to sacrifice its historic values in order to do so.
Gondor inherits its nobility of purpose from the people of Númenor, who themselves were charged with a divine commission to act with virtue and safeguard the goodness of the created order. Denethor stands in an altogether different tradition of forsaking this commission by using easily twisted instruments like a seeing stone, known as a palantír, to seek some way of surviving the challenges he faces. In his desperation for some hope of momentary victory, Denethor succumbs to fear, and he loses his identity through grief and a desperate desire to endure. His city soon crumbles around him.
It takes Gandalf, a symbol of the divine commission, to hold fast to the good, and Aragorn, a man who is defined by the inheritance he received from his forebears, to secure hope for the people of this city.
One of the greatest unspoken challenges facing the Church of England is how to properly hold fast to what it is to be victorious. On the one hand, there is the temptation to seek a victory of the moment, achieved through adapting its values to the needs and fears of today, against what feels like an overwhelming force. Or, there is the victory of the ultimate moment, the only moment in which any hope of holding fast to the good and vanquishing evil can be fully known, in the death and resurrection of Jesus.
In submission to that greatest of victories, a thousand daily victories may be won, because in response to Jesus we are called to imitate Him in all that we do. Therefore, we may strive without fear, as our forebears did, as Anglicanism commissions us to. Because whilst our good deeds are most certainly needed, they are only reflective of the greatest of deeds. We may experience what the world sees as defeats, but through our character, and with a steady footing upon our inheritance of faith, we may demonstrate that we have hope.
What ultimately makes Aragorn a better model for ministry than Denethor, is that he is ready to face the very real prospect of worldly defeat, whether at Helm’s Deep or before the Black Gates of Mordor, in order to do the right thing. His identity cannot be qualified by numbers, finances, or popularity – because it is completely bound up in the inheritance of hope which he carries with him.
As Aragorn himself says to the lady Eowyn who herself desires to participate in the great narrative of her people:
“Then there will be need of valour without renown, for none shall remember the deeds that are done in the last defence of your homes. Yet the deeds will not be less valiant because they are unpraised.”
This is true of the heroes of the Lord of The Rings, as it is true of the faithful Anglican minister, serving diligently amidst the daily challenges of parish ministry. Many ministers will be fans of The Lord of the Rings, and many of them will note the many points I have left unmentioned, or themes I have only half explored, for the sake of brevity. If so, get together with a friend, grab a brew, and discuss how you would have done it.
This is essential, because narrative resilience must be maintained through fellowship, through mutual encouragement amongst those undertaking the same quest. In my experience, if you are the average vicar/priest-in-charge/curate/wizard reading this, you’re not very good at finding time for fellowship of this kind, but it is essential.
Frodo did not make it to Mordor alone. Tolkien did not write without the encouragement of friends, and we were not ordained in isolation to act as individuals. Remember the inheritance of faith to which the C of E’s formularies hold you, seek fellowship with those who keep these same things dear, and hold the line.
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