"What is Your Favorite Color?": The Question of True Knighthood

As fast she fled thro' sun and shade,

The happy winds upon her play'd,

Blowing the ringlet from the braid:

She look’d so lovely, as she sway’d

The rein with dainty finger-tips,

A man had given all other bliss,

And all his worldly worth for this,

To waste his whole heart in one kiss

Upon her perfect lips.

-- Alfred, Lord Tennyson.

Excerpt: “Sir Launcelot and Queen Guinevere”

            I remember when I was younger being enamored by visions of chivalric mice, glorious banquets, and fierce fighting in the late Brian Jacques’ Redwall series. I would be lost for hours in that world—curled up in a chair or under the covers (flashlight, of course, required). I would have daydreams of charging into battle. I imagined myself as a badger, the toughest and fiercest of animals, laying waste to the vermin, crying out, “Eulaliaaa!” Those who are familiar with the series will no doubt recognize the famous warcry. I was all for knighthood.

            What does it mean to be a knight? We immediately drum up images of a man dressed in shiny, metallic armor, while riding a tall steed. The jousting lance is a necessary part of that picture. Flags blowing in the breeze, and stands crowded with peasants and other folk cheering on the tournament. Well, that’s certainly one image of the knight. But that image is the trivial one; it is both unnecessary and unessential to the idea of knighthood. There is a deeper, more profound idea behind knighthood. I wish to explore that meaning.

            I had the pleasure of being introduced to Roger Lancelyn Green’s King Arthur and the Knights of the Round Table while I taught it to a group of 5^th graders. We are all familiar with the sword in the stone, the Round Table, Avalon, Merlin and his wisdom/sorcery, and so on. Green’s account is highly episodic, with each chapter treating sometimes the main plot, and sometimes an individual knight. It can be, at times, hard to follow. You are brought in this direction, and then that one, with the intent of trying to give you an encompassing view of the whole. I am normally not one for that style of writing or storytelling. I enjoy a main stream of thought and the satisfaction of staying on course. But there is something both tangibly and subtly different in this case.

            Many might say that the apex of the plot is found in King Arthur’s betrayal by Sir Mordred. I disagree. I think the apex of the story—the whole point of the story—is found in the Quest for the Holy Grail (cue pithy and witty lines from “Monty Python”). But no, no humor in this one. This one is serious, wonderful, and profound. As Green’s narrative progresses, you learn that in order to accomplish the quest, one must have a strong faith in God and a pure heart. This is necessary and essential to the quest. Many knights pursued this quest, and many failed.

            One such knight not only failed, but was actually denied success. There is no doubt that the name of Sir Launcelot is ubiquitous, and carries a certain understanding of betrayal and weakness. Sir Launcelot is the greatest of all knights, save one. He cannot be beaten by any feat of strength, and overcomes all odds—almost. With Sir Launcelot, you cannot escape the idea of great strength being paired with a fatal flaw. He is the medieval Achilles, and his heel? Queen Guinevere.

            We know that Queen Guinevere is the wife of King Arthur. Upon selecting her as his bride, Merlin had this to say, “…I would that you loved another; for by her very beauty shall come the end of Logres—when the best knight of your court shall love her, bringing shame upon her and upon himself.”[1] Because of his illicit love for another man’s wife, Launcelot brings shame upon himself. He retains his strength, but his soul is stained. His knighthood, thence his purity, is marred. It’s ironic that the blow to lay low Launcelot comes not from a physical weapon, but from the abuse of the original Gift. He is now barred from accomplishing the quest.

            I find myself wonderfully intrigued by one scene that occurs during Launcelot’s pursuit of the Holy Grail. At this point in the story, he stumbles across a ‘stone cross…and a slab of marble’[2] next to a locked and darkened chapel. Without a clue as to what it might be, Launcelot passes into sleep. I want to emphasize sleep here. In Green’s own words, “And so he fell asleep; [during that time]…half waking and half sleeping.”[3] This is no comfortable, deep sleep for Launcelot. He is tossing, turning, waking up, falling back asleep, and beginning again. I’m reminded of many a night in a cold tent. During his sleep, Launcelot sees activity happen around the marble slab—the appearance of an old monk and wounded knight. You participate in his cold, waking, sleepiness—creating an ethereal and haunting feeling. It reads,

[He] saw the the door of the chapel open and the ancient hermit, Naciens, who had brought Galahad to Camelot, came out carrying the silver candlestick, which he set upon the marble block which now seemed like an altar in front of the cross. Then, as Naciens stood bside the altar in prayer, suddenly the Holy Grail, covered in a fair white cloth, came gliding on a pure moonbeam and rested awhile near the candles—and their light seemed as dim as if the sun shone, and dim also was the light of the full moon in the glorious brightness of the Light within the covered Grail. The sick knight, crawling painfully on his hands and knees, drew near to the altar, and then, reaching out his hands, he touched the Holy Grail, and straightaway he was cured of his sickness. Then, as he knelt in prayer, the Holy Grail rose from the altar and passed on its way like the brightest star of Heaven, and was lost to view.[4]

           

The knight is overjoyed at being healed of his pain and suffering. In his ecstasy, he is bewildered how a knight, Launcelot, could remain so close to the Grail and be asleep. Naciens answers, “He is held to the earth by his sins.”[5] When Launcelot awakes, he expresses deep regret and sorrow as the reality of his wickedness dawns upon him.

            I was interested by the ‘anchoring’ effect that sin has on Launcelot—he is weighed down to the earth. Sin is not a ‘light’ burden—it actually weighs down the soul. It prevents the airiness and lightness that is required to join in the Angelic chorus. Though physically capable, or rather earthly sufficient, he is woefully insufficient with regard to his spiritual aspect. I can’t help but be reminded of Adam. Adam is made ‘earthly’, or lowly, when he betrayed his duty and obligation in protecting Eve. He is cast from the heights, and lowered to the ground. He is anchored by his sin. Yet, there is One who enters time who is not weighed down by sin, and is able to be raised up. As one reads the Old Testament, you begin to become aware of many prefigurations of Christ. Christ is the new Adam. Christ condescended to take on the form of man, and become through this condescension, a son of Adam. But unlike Adam, Christ is not weighed down. He is able to be raised up. We see a repeated reference to this “raising” in the Gospel of John. Christ will be raised up on the cross, and we will be raised up into heaven. In like manner, the more perfect knight is Galahad. And who else could Galahad be but the son of Sir Launcelot.

            I mentioned before that Sir Launcelot could be bested but none, save one. That one is Sir Galahad. The last chair of the Round Table, called The Siege Perilous, has been reserved for Galahad alone. On the back of the chair has formed the words, “THIS IS THE SIEGE OF SIR GALAHAD THE HIGH PRINCE.”[6] Sir Galahad is the most pure of all the knights of the Round Table, and consistently demonstrates an absolute trust and faith in God throughout his tales. It is for him to complete the Quest of the Holy Grail. It is for him alone to accomplish that task.

            I am blessed to work in a school that is connected to an architecturally beautiful church. We have regular mass, and weekly Adoration. I could not help but to bring my 5^th graders back into the church to read the final chapter of the Quest for the Holy Grail. You will understand why as you read,

Galahad knelt on the first step, and the Grail Maiden went up and placed the Holy Grail in the centre of the altar. Then Naciens the Divine Hermit came and took the Grail in his hands and after he had prayed, he brought it to Galahad and said, ‘Holy Knight of God, I who have been the Priest of the Grail these many years give the Holy Grail into your hands that all things may be fulfilled…’

Then Galahad took the Holy Grail in his hands, drew away the cloth, and drank of the Holy Wine. After this he rose to his feet and set the Grail upon the altar: and it seemed to all who saw him that his face shone with a great light…

Then Galahad held the Spear so that the drops of blood fell into the wounds of the Maimed King: and at once Pelles was cured of his sufferings, and his flesh was…whole…

Then, [Percival] took [Blanchefleur] in his arms and kissed her; and there in the Chapel of the Holy Grail Sir Galahad, who now was the Priest of the Grail, blessed them and made them man and wife.

Then Galahad set the Grail upon the altar and knelt once more in prayer. And as he knelt, his life was accomplished, and his soul was taken up to Heaven so that his body lay dead before the altar. Then the sunbeam descended from above, striking clean through the roof of the chapel, and the Bleeding Spear and the Holy Grail passed up and vanished from sight, nor were they ever again seen upon this earth.[7]

Forgive me the long and extended quote, but sometimes it is far better to let the beauty of the original shine forth unmitigated by extra commentary. The Quest is accomplished. Within a short spell of reading, we receive the Institution of the Eucharist, the sacrament of Holy Orders, the sacrament of Marriage, and the Annointing of the Sick. Sir Galahad, having accomplished this most important of quests, offers up his spirit at the foot of the altar. What Adam was intended for, Christ accomplishes. What Launcelot prevented himself from enjoying, Galahad dutifully performed. Whenever I approach the sanctuary, I now think of the quest. I think of kneeling before the High Prince and being healed. I think, and I am reminded that I am also Launcelot.

            What happens with Launcelot? Does he wander off and is lost to all hope? Mercifully, no he is not. Launcelot is lead to the castle where the Holy Grail is found. He is led up the steps to the sanctuary, to the Chapel of the Holy Grail. But he is not permitted inside. He is barred from tasting, of being satisfied by the contents of the Holy Grail. Yet, he is permitted one thing. He is permitted to receive a glimpse, a small yet resounding glimmer, of the holy light proceeding from the Holy Grail. As Naciens speaks, “Sir Launcelot!...Come not here, for you are not worthy to draw near. Behold now the Holy Grail! But from it you may not drink!”[8] He is effectively denied this pleasure because he fell from grace. This is hard to suffer, but he is allowed the hope received through the view. We, too, are permitted this hope.

            Again, I ask what is knighthood? Is it really just prancing around on a groomed horse, of white or brown, with the edge of a lance piercing the breastplate of one similarly dressed? I cannot but think not. I think there is more than just mere coincidence that it is on the feast of Pentecost that the knights renew their chivalric vows. I’m inclined to believe that the true knighthood is the virtuous, faithful life. The quests are our daily crosses. We are daily weighed down, but we are daily invited to rise up. The prayers will be answered, grace will be found, and our quests accomplished because One has destroyed the weight of sin. I would not have fathomed this as I roved the world of Redwall in my mind. It was a prefiguration of what I would eventually conceive of as true ‘knighthood’.

This image and understanding continues to grow in my understanding. Many fit the label of knights. But I am beginning to see a specific group as especial heirs to Sir Galahad. The Archdiocese of New York used to display posters depicting black and white photos of World War II. The only thing shown with color is the stole around the neck of a priest administering last rites or communion to a fallen soldier. The caption reads, “The World Needs Heroes.” Indeed, the world needs knights.

           

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[1] Page 52

[2] Page 307

[3] Page 308

[4] Page 308-309

[5] Page 309

[6] Page 274

[7] page 331-333

[8] Page 325