If I Were A Knight

In the United States, chivalry has, historically speaking, been loosely tied to religion. During the Middle Ages, however, chivalry, or the Chivalric Code, was directly linked to Christianity, or, more properly, the Church.

In all truth, though, the sacred texts of the world’s religions do not much concern themselves with matters of chivalry. Chivalry is, properly speaking, a civil philosophy. Chivalry is a way of being in the world, which may dovetail with certain religious principles, but in and of itself chivalry is not beholden to religion.

I appreciate chivalry and am grateful for its contributions to our society. I fear, however, that chivalry is dead — or at least gasping for breath in a roadside ditch, having been beaten and robbed of its importance. A recent example will illustrate my point:

Last week as I approached the Gate Station on the island, a young man in front of me allowed the heavy-framed glass door to close in the face of a pregnant lady walking directly behind him. The man was in a hurry, as anyone could see by the pace of his steps. But to walk pass a pregnant lady because you’re in a hurry and allow the heavy door to shut in her face is shameful. The man’s action made me angry. If I were a knight I would have drawn my sword.

The incident at the gas station reminded me of a quote by the 19th-century author, Louisa May Alcott: “Gentlemen, be courteous to the old maids, no matter how poor and plain and prim, for the only chivalry worth having is that which is the readiest to pay deference to the old, protect the feeble, and serve womankind, regardless of rank, age, or color.”

I was raised on the bread of chivalry. Despite the detractors of chivalry, I’m feeding my son the same fare. My son is learning to open the door for a lady (not because she can’t do it herself, but out of honor!), give up his seat to a lady or the aged, and say “yes ma’am,” “thank you,” and “please.” I am teaching my son to defend kids who are unable to defend themselves, to speak against public vulgarity, dress appropriate for all occasions, and always be charitable and generous.

It’s my judgment that, by and large, our culture no longer swims in the historic rivers of honor and duty, which is why fewer and fewer young men embrace the virtue of chivalry. Be this as it may, I will continue to take my stand and make my appeal:

Fathers and grandfathers, as you teach your sons and grandsons to fish or play football, do not neglect to teach the code that has long greased the wheels of a more beautiful and genteel society. Or, to paraphrase the British philosopher John Stuart Mill: Do not neglect the Chivalric code, which remains one of the most precious monuments of the moral history of our race.

Putting God in Tupperware

People try to pin God down. Figure God out. Box God in. People develop elaborate, and not so elaborate, theological containers for God. As if anyone could put God in cage. As if anyone could put God in Tupperware like last night's leftovers.

People say, "The Bible says that God is...." Perhaps the Bible does say this or that about God. But to use the Bible as an exhaustive measuring scoop for God is anti-biblical. The Bible goes to great lengths to dissuade people from the erroneous notion that God can be fully comprehended. The biblical descriptions of God are not meant to be exhaustive of God. For how can God ever be exhausted? And if descriptions of God cannot be exhaustive then we must be very careful about our God-claims. We must be humble. Our claims must be tentative. Hubris has no place in conversations about God.

Where is God?

The mother who loses a child to a car wreck, the husband who loses his wife to cancer, the teenage girl who loses a boyfriend to a freak accident while on spring break, the parents who learn that their son died of a roadside bomb in Iraq: they have all asked "Why?" They have all asked, "Where is God?"

And what is the best answer? What is the right answer? What is the real answer, if different from the two previous questions?

The longer I live the more I have learned to content myself with saying, "I don't know." It's comforting to realize that we do not need to defend God. We do not need to explain God (as if we really ever could explain God). We do not need to excuse God. We do not need to exonerate God. God is who God is. And God will be who God will be. And God will be what God will be.

In the face of ugly circumstances that smash our sense of right and wrong; in the face of tragedies, both natural and moral, we cannot ever satisfactorily, or ultimately answer the crying mother's question of "Where is God?"

But we can say this: The God we know in Jesus does not forsake us.