Judging a "mad fierce face."

This chapter is called “The Breaking of the Fellowship,” which is a fitting title for the final chapter of a book called “The Fellowship of the Ring.”  The Fellowship has reached the end of the Anduin river and must decide where to go – east to Mordor or west to Gondor.  While they meet and discuss, Aragorn reminds Frodo he is the only one who has been charged with bearing the Ring.  The choice is his, and others will follow him or not as they wish.  Frodo asks for some time to think it over, and goes for a walk.

While he is thinking, he unexpectedly runs into Boromir.  While Boromir has done a commendable job keeping his personal feelings to himself, he now knows if Frodo goes east, the Ring will never come to Gondor.  Boromir does not want that.

Boromir asks Frodo to come to Gondor, assuring him it is the best route to take.  Frodo refuses.  Boromir becomes offended, and speaks for forcefully.  When that doesn't work, “he sprang over the stone and leaped at Frodo.  His fair and pleasant face was hideously changed, a raging fire was in his eyes.”  Frodo slips on the Ring and flees.  And while the text shows us how Boromir’s madness passes him, and that he repents for his actions, Frodo does not see this.  He continues running: “Terror and grief shook him, seeing in his thought the mad fierce face of Boromir.”  That image is etched into his mind.

One common saying I abhor is when a person is said to have “Shown their true colors.”  This is never used positively.  It is always a trickster being revealed.  A friend showing they were false.  A person showing unbridled anger where first there had been restraint.  Boromir would seem to fit into this category.  He has revealed himself as the selfish Man he is, and that image will forever be in Frodo’s mind.  Frodo knows Boromir’s darkest secrets.  The secrets he tries to keep even from himself.

But is it fair to judge Boromir like this?  Is it fair to judge anyone?  Why do we let one moment of evil wipe away so much good?  We can comprehend of a good person being imperfect, or misguided, but not all and out bad.  If they were bad, how could they be good?  They are opposites!

One of the more powerful things I’ve heard in the past year was a quote from a defense attorney.  When defending her clients, she will try to talk about the good they’ve done in their life.  Were they a good father, a loving partner, a reliable employee?  Can we ignore these things?  “Shall we judge a whole person based on their single worst action?”

This, to me, is the essence of what’s wrong with the “true colors” sentiment.  It simplifies things too much.  When someone unexpectedly becomes a criminal, the neighbors say “But he was so nice/helpful/friendly.”  Why 'but'?  Why can’t criminals be nice?  Why can’t they be kind to their elderly neighbors and also part of gang violence?  Or a sales agent who always makes quota and also is a abusive towards a partner?  Criminals are not completely bad.  Having a bad quality doesn't wipe away the good ones (though the bad may outwiegh the good).

When I was in high school I had a particularly bad break up, and I remember her accusing me that “You never loved me!”  I remember thinking:  What’s that got to do with anything?  Saying that because we are breaking up I actually never loved you at all casts a pretty dark shadow on life.  It isn’t that all good things must come to an end, it’s that all good things were in fact never good because they end.  And that’s absurd.  You can’t judge a whole experience based on the single worst moment.  The bad moments do not wipe away the good.

Frodo, in his fear of Boromir, runs away.  We can understand this, but in doing so he does not know that Boromir repents.  He is so struck with “Terror and grief” that he runs, isolating himself.  He believes, if the Ring has seized hold of Boromir, it will seize control of others, and tear the Fellowship asunder.  So Frodo decides, for the good of the Company, to leave them all behind.

But isolation, while immediately useful at times, are not good tools for enabling love and understanding.  Frodo wants to isolate himself from “the mad fierce face of Boromir,” forgetting that this face is only one of many.  Boromir is also strong and valiant and loyal (Bottom left).  Is it right to forget all of that in light of recent events?

Our prison system utilizes this kind of isolation.  You are deemed bad for society; you are sent to a place separate from everyone else.  It is comparable to “time out.” That comparison is fair – when a child behaves badly s/he is sent alone and loses some play time.

But here’s the difference:  When a child comes out of time-out, there is no lingering cloud.  There is no label forever stamped upon them.  They go, but then they return (and return as fully equal members of the group).  When someone is released from prison, even early for good behavior and having shown honest remorse for their actions, they are forever given a criminal record.  And you better believe that costs them opportunities.  They can have a great resume, score highly on any test and interview excellently, but if that employer checks their criminal records (which are usually public, so you better believe they show up on a Google search), they’ll judge them on that and find another candidate.  Suddenly, they are judging a whole person on their worst action.  They are judging them based on the “mad fierce face,” and no other.

And don’t tell me that most criminals return to prison after being released, and therefore weren’t suitable for a second chance anyway.  After being turned down for one opportunity after another, they have no choice but turn back to crime.  No one will give them a legit job, but they still need money for food and clothes and shelter (and that's just for the basest survival)!  So they turn to the one network open to them, crime.  And then, when they're caught again, no one will want to hire them because they’ve gone to prison twice.  And so it goes.

When we say people are imperfect, I do not think we only mean they are not saints, striving and sometimes failing.  I think we mean, or need to mean, they are messy and a collection of ideas and actions.  You can be a hard worker and a bad partner, or you can be an unreliable employee and a great friend.  You can be a gunman who shoots innocent civilians and also a loving son.  I know it sounds contradictory to the point of nauseating, but we need to challenge our black and white view of criminals.  People are more than their single worst action, and deserve to be treated as such.

I have been thinking about maturity – what signs are there we can use to see if someone is "mature"?  We all know 22 year-olds who are very mature, and some 30 year-olds who are not.  But what’s a way to define this?  How can we check?

A method I like to use is to ask them a time when they were a villain.  When is a time when they were the bad guy in someone else’s story.  We all like to be the hero – but sometimes we are the villain.  And I don’t mean a villain as in “We obstructed a greater evil” or “I was young and it was fun." I mean a moment where, looking back, you aren’t even proud.  Not necessarily filled with shame, but you can see, 100%, why you are a villain in that story, and that no amount of editorializing can change that.  Some honest reflection is needed here.

Anyway, got your story?  Now imagine being judged solely on that story.  Shall we judge others on their single worst action?

Boromir: Ignorant, yet Noble

Boromir is one of the more complicated characters in our text, largely because very little is said about him.  There are whole chapters where he says nothing, and when he does speak he's very pessimistic about the Quest, and is usually disagreeing with someone.  He's kind of a Debbie Downer.

When the Company leave Rivendell, he blows his horn.  When Elrond reminds him they are supposed to be moving in secret, he responds: "I will not go forth as a thief in the night."  While this is clearly a foolish point, to act as a thief would impinge on Boromir's own sense of pride.

And this pride greatly defines Boromir.  While he has often been in the background of the other companions, our double portion this week gives us an opportunity to examine him a little more closely.  The chapters this week are "Farewell to Lorien" and "The Great River."  The Company leaves Lothlorien (Opinions differ, but essentially Lothlorien denotes the entire forest, while Lorien is the more populated center where the Fellowship go to meet Galadriel and Celeborn.  However, it is common for the two to be used interchangeably) and set boats on the river Anduin that will lead them further south.  And so the unsettled debate reemerges:  Where does the Fellowship go now?  They can follow the river south for quite a while, but there are rapids at which point the river terminates in a waterfall.  At that point, they will leave the river.  But to where?

If they go east, they will be marching to Mordor, where the Ring must go.  If they go west, they will be going to Minas Tirith.  We can predict Boromir's preference: "If my advice is heeded, it will be the western shore, and the way to Minas Tirith, but I am not the leader of the Company."  This line is, in many ways, Boromir's mantra.  Whenever a debate is had about the direction of the Fellowship, Boromir suggests Gondor, but then also admits he is not the leader, and that he will follow the Company's decision.  He says this before they attempt to cross Caradrhas, before going into Moria, and even before entering Lothlorien.  He would prefer to go directly to Minas Tirith, to his home.

Boromir is often characterized as proud and unwise - a brute warrior among learned philosophers.  This is true, but it is also incomplete.  Boromir, like all good warriors, is exceptionally good at taking orders.  Boromir adheres to a strict code of honor.  When Gandalf moves to face the Balrog, Boromir comes to his side.  He will not let a companion face such an enemy alone.  But when Gandalf tells them to run ("Swords are no more use here") Boromir does this without question.  When Aragorn takes over leadership of the Fellowship, there is no kind of power struggle.  Aragorn is a leader.  Boromir is not, and he does not try to be.

We learn several things about Boromir in Rivendell, but then little else.  His life has been lived immersed in Minas Tirith, and knows only war.  He doesn't know much else about Middle Earth.  But, unlike the Hobbits (who are far more ignorant), he doesn't realize how much he doesn't know.  When the Ring is presented at the Council, he suggests using it against Sauron.  When Elrond explains this is impossible, "Boromir looked at them doubtfully, but he bowed his head. 'So be it.'"  It is not outrageous to say he is not convinced.

But Boromir, for all these faults, is not a bad man.  Unwise, yes, but if you use a screwdriver to drive a nail, you would declare the screwdriver is useless.  It is easy to think of Boromir as a lesser character when compared to his companions.  So little is said of him in the text!  His psychology is not complex.  He just wants to go home and fight Sauron.  

But think of the others.  Sam becomes attached to pack animals.  Legolas and Gimli spend much of the journey between Rivendell and Lothlorien insulting each other and their race.  But Boromir, while simple, is also very easy going.  His honor precludes him from making trouble.  When asked, he will voice his opinion, but he trusts in those above him and will, once a decision is made, follow it wholeheartedly.  It is almost as if Boromir knows that he makes a better follower than a leader.  And this is a skill I think the world needs more of.

We so value leaders that we don't realize, for leadership to do any good, there must be people willing to follow.  Look at this video of Martin Luther King Jr's "I Have a Dream Speech."  It would be far less impactful if the National Mall were empty.  He needed followers.  And followers are not "sheeple;" they are not idiots or morons.  (Have you ever tried to lead a group of fools?)  Following, like leading, requires intelligence and capability.  If a leader suggests something, and an unexpected roadblock emerges, it is the followers who must react in the moment.  MLK would never have become the remembered figure he is today if his followers, at the first sign of violence from their oppressors, lashed out in kind.  While MLK should be praised for inspiring those who followed him, we should also praise those who held to the values of their leader, even when it caused them personal harm.

It would be hard to criticize a Civil Rights protester who attacked his or her attackers.  But, if that had happened, the entirety of MLK's message would have been undercut, and the non-violent Civil Rights movement sabotaged.  And while MLK was, himself, subject to humiliation and harm, he was the source of the message.  We expect him to keep it together under pressure.  It is more admirable for a follower - who has thoughts of their own which, like Boromir, may conflict with the thoughts of the larger group - to stay true to the decision of the leader when times get tough.

Boromir represents the times we must be followers, when we must trust in the wisdom of those who lead us, and not strike out on our own for the sake of our pride (As Gimli threatened to).  As we shall soon see, Boromir also comes to represent what happens when we lose sight of the larger goal, and instead act in our own immediate self interest.  But even in Boromir's failings, he finds redemption.

Boromir is a warrior who loves his land and is good at following orders.  He is, in the simplest sense, a patriot.  And while that term is politically poisoned now, I would say a patriot is one who is willing to give some of themselves for the greater good.  I'm aware of how ominous all that sounds (and I'm sure the link doesn't help!).  We can debate the details, but who among us can truly respect someone who never compromises.  We might admire them from a distance - glad there is someone stalwart and true to their beliefs, but being true to beliefs is useless if you're merely stubborn (or obstructionist) about it.  Beliefs are useless if they are never enacted, and they cannot be enacted without someone, somewhere compromising a little.

Boromir is a simple character whose strength comes from realizing his own simplicity.  He is a hammer and he knows it.  He is not a screwdriver.  He is also not the one who wields the hammer.  He is just the hammer.  He is told what to strike and where, and he does it.

So as a role-model, it is difficult to say what Boromir offers us.  We want to be more than just tools.  We want to be the one who wields the tools.  But we can't always, and we shouldn't always.  Sometimes are strength comes in seeing our limitations and working within their bounds.  Boromir accepts he is not the leader.  He is still able to be a productive member of the Fellowship.  Unlike most of the others, Boromir is never the source of strife within the Fellowship.  He has his pride (which insists they go to Gondor), but he also has his honor (which precludes him from making trouble).  With really only those two things, the Creative Wizard has created a rich portrait of a simple man.

However, as we shall soon see, honor will not always win in the struggle taking place in Boromir's heart.  Soon, his pride will overwhelm him.  And then, in one moment, all the good he has done for the Fellowship will be nullified.

Thank God the struggle for Civil Rights wasn't similarly poisoned.  Happy Martin Luther King day, everyone!

Gimli & Legolas: Why Can't We Be Friends?

Why are we friends with our friends?  When did we go from mere acquaintances to friends?  How did that happened?

This week’s chapter is called “The Mirror of Galadriel.”  The Fellowship is now safe in Lothlorien, and taking some time to rest and recover from their travels.  While most of the Fellowship stay together, Legolas often goes off to visit with the Elves.  But he doesn't go alone.  “Often he took Gimli with him when he went abroad in the land, and the others wondered at this change.”

Gimli and Legolas have, until now, been very unfriendly towards each other.  Now suddenly Legolas is reaching out to him, and they are becoming friends.  In the previous chapter, when Gimli needed to be blindfold and Aragorn said the whole Company would be blindfold, Legolas complains it is unfair, because he is an Elf, and shouldn’t need to endure such treatment in an Elf-realm.

But now they’re friends.

I’ve recently been thinking about friendship.  Why is it so hard to make friends as an adult?  After all, it used to be we were good at making friends – or at least talking to new people and trying.  And while I can make new friends, I’m not sure I’ll ever replace the spot I have in my heart for my high school or college friends.

But why is that?  The only reason those people are my friends is an accident of proximity, right.  I didn’t necessarily have anything else in common with them.  What if I had gone to UNH instead of UMass?  I would have made friends there, and while I would have missed out on great friendships, maybe I’d make greater ones.  It makes my choice of college seem very replaceable.  I would have learned and made friends in either case.  So what’s the difference?

I think back to Brittany, the last person I made an organic friendship with.  What happened?  We met at a beach party and bonded over our love of adventure – we traded stories.  The next day we went to downtown LA and had an adventure of our own together – we spent the whole weekend like that!  We bonded through that time.  No we don't have to just trade stories; we have stories together.  But who else have I bonded with in a similar way?

I don’t know – Moishe house maybe.  But that wasn’t organic.  I went there to meet people – I went to Venice Beach just to get out of the house.  I would have chalked Venice Beach a success even if I hadn’t met Brit.  But at Moishe house, friendship felt like the goal.  And friendship, while an excellent thing, makes for a crappy goal.

A goal has an end-point.  You set it, you make your way towards it, then you achieve it.  Having been achieved, it is done.  But that’s not how friendship works – friendships are always in flux.  I have 4 college friends I really try to keep up with – and to varying degrees.  I can admit I’m closer to some and further from others, but they’re still *friends.*  And I still need to work on keeping those connections.  Same with my high school friends – in fact even more so with them.  I talk to them rarely when I’m living on the West Coast – but when I’m back it is like old times (and then we have some new ones). 

But it is more than what I said before – it is more than just proximity.  We became friends in grade school because we lived nearby, liked the same things, and shared in some key experiences.  In college, we worked together, liked the same things, and shared in some key experiences.  Proximity is part of it, but there were maybe 30 kids in my 5^th grade class, 90 in 8^th grade and 200 in high school (Totally guessing in all those cases, but you get the point).  I had a choice.  I chose these people.  And was lucky enough that they chose me.

Legolas and Gimli have shared some experiences together.  They have fought side by side and both revere their own personal history.  They’re very much alike.  Once they get over their racial difference, they’re able to become friends.  But still – friendship is not the goal: the Quest is.  Making a friend is not a valid goal by itself.  Since shared experiences are necessary, you need to have something else in mind.  You need something to do together.  Like Brit and I wandering the streets of L.A.

I’m still not sure when acquaintances become friends.  It’s a tough line to draw.  Sometimes we meet someone and immediately have that “Where have you been my whole life?” moment.  Sometimes it takes time.  Sometimes we meet someone and will never make the jump from acquaintance to friend.  It’s hard to say.

And I think that’s the point, here.  The line above kind of comes out of nowhere.  They were distant, but then they became close.  It’s hard to pinpoint when and how that happened.  Just like in real friendships, it is hard to precisely say when one becomes friends.

The lesson of this chapter, then, isn’t to make more friends, or to forgive racial divides, or to welcome others into your home, or really to do anything.  The point here is to realize that making friends takes time, and it’s hard to say when you become friends.  After all – it isn’t a good goal.  It is a by-product of experiences.  With every one of my good friends, I can think of at least one experience we shared together.  This tells me, in my struggle to make new friends, that I need to seek out experiences.  Maybe that's hiking, maybe that's laser tag, maybe that's gaming, but we can go even simpler.  Going to a bar?  Maybe not.  But going to a bar and competing in Trivia nights?  Hell yes!

And then one day I’ll look back on these experiences, realize I’ve made some new friends during them, and wonder at the change.

Aragorn: Leading by example

Having lost Gandalf, the Fellowship flees from Moria to safer ground.  They enter Lothlorien (from which this chapter takes its title) where Aragorn, who has taken on the role of leading the Fellowship, says they will be welcome.  But they are then captured by several Elves, who tell them that they are trespassing on their land, and though they've heard of the Fellowship and their Quest, they are still very wary of trusting outsiders.  They will take the Fellowship to "Our Lord and Lady," where their fate will be decided.  It sounds surprisingly grim, given that the Elves are supposed to be on the same side as the Fellowship.  "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."

The Elves are especially wary of Gimli.  "A dwarf!  That is not well.  We have not had dealings with the Dwarves since the Dark Days.  They are not permitted in our land."  Frodo insists that since Gimli was chosen by Elrond, that he should be trusted.  After a conversation amongst themselves, the Elves relent, but "he must go blindfolded through Lothlorien."

When Gimli hears of this, he staunchly refuses.  There is an argument.  "I will go forward free, or I will go back and seek my own land, where I am known to be true of word."  Finally, Aragorn intercedes, "It is hard upon the Dwarf to be thus singled out.  We will all be blindfold."

Here Aragorn displays an excellent model of leadership.  He understands the Elves' predicament, even as he disagrees with it.  They are secretive and wary.  He can't just say "Seriously guys - trust us."  If they would be persuaded so easily, they wouldn't need to be persuaded at all.  But, Aragorn also understands Gimli's objections.  Gimli feels he has earned a reputation of trustworthiness.  He has no desire to let the Elves label him otherwise.

So Aragorn comes up with a compromise.  If Gimli needs to be blindfold because he's seen as an outsider, then let everyone be blindfold, since they are all outsiders (Even Legolas, who while an Elf is not from Lothlorien).  Everyone agrees to this (though Legolas protests briefly).

Aragorn could have tried demanding that Gimli simply "take one for the team."  How many of us have, in similar situations, said that?  Someone has the get the short end of the stick, right?

Why is that?  Well, the short end of the stick represents a reality that cannot be enhanced.  Sometimes there just isn't enough to go around.  But why not just cut down the longer ends of the stick?  You can't divide 23 evenly between four people.  Someone will only get 5 while everyone else gets 6.  But why not everyone get 5 and just leave the other 3?  It doesn't even matter what the number represents (Food, Art Supplies, Tax Dollars).  Why must one person suffer while everyone else gets what they can?  Wouldn't it be more reasonable, and promote better group relations, if a larger part of the group sacrificed something on behalf of the rest?  Isn't that what a graduated income tax is about?  Why tell some to suck it up (promoting inequality while causing resentment) than tell others to sacrifice their extra portion (promoting equality while causing resentment)?  If resentment is inevitable, you might as well promote a good value while you do it.

The next time we're in a situation where things cannot be divided equally, and it looks as though someone is going to be singled out, rather than justify that person's inequality, we should think of how to prevent it.  If everyone needs X, and there are not enough of X to around evenly, then do we really need to take every available X?  Why not distribute evenly what we can, and leave the rest as a token of group unity.  Only the most selfish of companions would resent it.  Even Legolas, eventually, understands the need for everyone to be blindfold.

The Fellowship has many miles to go.  So does our team, whether it's a professional team or group of friends.  Group harmony should always come before material gain.

Actually, not quite.  Because I would also advise against "taking one for the team" personally.  While you may not plan for it to cause resentment, eventually you might want someone else to take part of the burden.  Even if not - even if you are saintly enough to always take the lesser portion - you may cause resentment among those who think you're being too pious or too altruistic.  Are those good objections?  No - but why bring them upon your self (and your group)?  What you're losing in material gain you're making up for in spiritual gain.  You get to feel good about your self-sacrifice, but the message your companions may receive is "I don't need these things - but you all do."  Again, this only builds resentment in others, and puts yourself above them, promoting inequality.  So allow me to rephrase:

Group harmony should always come before personal gain, be it material or spiritual.