I am on a mission to reclaim the good name of the virtues, and rn I want to talk about one that has been slandered to death: meekness. 🧵
If you look in contemporary dictionaries, you’ll probably see a mild primary definition, followed by a lame secondary one. Perfect example from Merriam-Webster:
Cambridge likewise offers a telling example of usage:
“He’s slight, meek, and balding, and hardly heroic.”
In other words, the meek fellow has no choice but to be meek, because it’s not like he could do anything about injuries and insults anyways. As Churchill once said of a rival, “He’s a modest man who has a good deal to be modest about.”
Few spirited men could understand meekness on these terms and still think it worth striving for. This is a particularly live issue for English-speaking Christians, given the use of meek in translations of the New Testament. Does the Lord ask us to be pushovers? twitter.com/i/web/status/1…
Thomas Aquinas offers a definitive and refreshing No! Meekness (mansuetude), he writes, “restrains the onslaught of anger” and “properly mitigates the passion of anger.” twitter.com/i/web/status/1…
So when the Lord proclaims, “Blessed are the meek,” he isn’t telling us to be easily imposed upon, deficient in courage. He instead challenges us to have authority over our anger, the ability to direct its power rather than being directed by it.
As I mentioned above, the traditional understanding of meekness actually lends itself to martial purpose.
George Patton once noted that wars are not won by winning battles; they are won by choosing battles. Meekness is crucial in helping us choose the right battles.
Without meekness we fly into a rage and our battles are chosen for us by those instigators who know how to play us. With proper meekness, though, we gain the power to choose which provocations we answer; we are ruled by good sense rather than by automatic reflexes.
You could actually say that the man without meekness is weak. He is weak because he cannot control his anger and he exhausts his energy over trifles.
There are fine examples in the Arthurian literature. One of my favorite involves Tennyson's telling of Sir Geraint's story. When the knight is openly and needlessly disrespected by a small man, his hand goes for his sword. Then he thinks better of it.
Tennyson writes:
"But he, from his exceeding manfulness
And pure nobility of temperament,
Wroth to be wroth at such a worm, refrained
From even a word."
The virtue of meekness allows Geraint to pause long enough to realize that this person and this quarrel are unworthy of his time and energy.
It’s worth adding that Geraint is rewarded for his restraint. His decision sets in motion the events which will lead to his encounter with a beautiful young lady of a noble but fallen family who needs a champion to fight for her.
Enid will become the best wife a man could ever hope to have, and Geraint would never have met her if he had given the small man a buffet like he deserved.
True meekness, contrary to what we’ve been told, is not the sissy’s virtue, not the virtue for soft, effete men.
This is a real virtue for real men. It is especially important for fighters.
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During the siege of Cordoba, St Fernando III determined that the key to taking the city was controlling a bridge over the Guadalquivir. The Spanish forces needed to attack the castle that guarded the bridge and then take the bridge itself.
This would be extremely dangerous. Fernando's brother Alfonso thought he had better volunteer to lead the mission, rather than allow the king to risk his life.
But the king would have none of it. “I will never place one of my vassals in greater danger than I face myself.”
He then had to select a team, so he turned his men and asked, “My friends and loyal vassals, who among you has a burning desire to do great things for our Lord Jesus Christ?” He told them how dangerous it would be.
Orwell once said we first need to restate the obvious. So here’s something obvious:
One of the best preparations we can make against troubled times is proximity to family and friends. In the same city is good, in the same neighborhood is way better. Short 🧵
We need to live near people who have our backs, people with whom we can work on projects and muster resilience. It's time to build, and it's not the kind of thing we can just hire contractors to do. We must do it ourselves.
Our enemies want us far-flung, separated, on our own in the midst of strangers—because scattered people are vulnerable, lonely, and easily controlled.
People sometimes ask for recommendations on knightly movies. Unfortunately I do not know of many sword-and-castle epics worthy of a thumbs-up. To be honest, I don’t even love 1961’s El Cid—even though I love the subject and the aesthetics and the stars.
But there are enough worthy movies which highlight the chivalric virtues. One of the themes of my project is that chivalry is a timeless ideal, much more about a set of virtues (prowess, courtesy, honor, generosity, loyalty, and faith) than a particular aesthetic or time period.
After all the propaganda teaching us that we're supposed to be patsies, I'm guessing that the majority of Catholics would be genuinely surprised to learn of the ferocity of the Church's warrior tradition.
Contrary to what we've heard, chivalry is not about holding doors open for ladies.
It has more to do with being a dangerous man who will not recoil in the face of evil—and who also happens to be courteous, honorable, generous, loyal, and devout.
"Chivalry," writes Leon Gautier, "is the Christian form of the military profession: the knight is the Christian soldier."
If we were putting together a list of the most loyal of heroes, Sir Gawain would have to rank high, right up there with Samwise Gamgee and others. Let's look at how his loyalty was rewarded. 🧵
In two famous episodes of Arthurian legend, Gawain showed himself willing to undergo extraordinary distress in service of his king.
Most people are familiar enough with his quest to find the Green Chapel.
In his introduction to Sir Gawain and the Green Knight, JRR Tolkien describes this great act of loyalty. twitter.com/i/web/status/1…
When someone takes the trouble to offer him a compliment, the gentleman smiles and says thank you.
He knows it's bad form and low-status to deflect, downplay, or sidestep a kind word. He doesn't do the fake humility thing or explain why the person shouldn't be complimenting him.
He just smiles and says thank you. (Unless he is being crediting for work done by another. In that case, he clarifies.)
It took me too long to learn this. I had a bad habit of dismissing or explaining away a kind word when it failed to matter to me. It was rather rude.
The other person was taking the trouble, and I was making them regret it.