Take Courage and Show Thyself a Man

“Take thou courage, and shew thyself a man.” (1 Kings 2:2-3)

Day by day, the times seem to grow more alarming. Wars and rumors of wars, geopolitical instability, the increasing presence of artificial intelligence and its unknown consequences, and a pervasive godlessness that necessitates divine justice all loom over our heads like an impending storm.

A grim sense that things are going from bad to worse hangs heavy in the air, like noxious fumes. 

Though most in society seem to acknowledge the fragility of order, deep down I do not believe there are many individuals truly grappling with the fact that we are headed toward some kind of cataclysm—be it spiritual, temporal, or both. 

We ignore the growing sense of foreboding in our hearts. In this way, we nod off as three Galileans did in a garden long ago during the very hour in which their Master had commanded of them vigilance and prayer.

The concern I have for myself and other faithful Catholics rests in the psychological and spiritual response we have to the times in which we reside. How are we grappling with the evils surrounding us? 

Whenever I feel dismayed at our cold world which seems to be in a constant state of freefall, when there seems to be such little resistance to the immorality in society, I return to Tolkien’s novel The Lord of the Rings. This masterpiece is a remedy for discouragement and serves as a powerful reminder of good’s ultimate triumph: “In the end, the Shadow is only a small and passing thing: there is light and high beauty for ever beyond its reach” (The Return of the King, Book VI, Chapter 2).

The consolation of Christ’s final and decisive victory over the world is not license for inaction, however. Tolkien’s novel contains within it four potential responses to crisis, as embodied by its characters. Three of these are fruitless, rooted in human frailty; the fourth is the magnanimous ideal worthy of emulation. 

Tolkien’s masterpiece rings out a challenge to every man who finds himself in evil times: Who are you?

Despair

Despair is the result of no longer believing that evil can be resisted. Lord Denethor, Steward of Gondor, embodies this pusillanimous disposition in The Lord of the Rings. After pursuing knowledge beyond what was appropriate for his state in life, he found the evil of Sauron too much to face; and in the end, he took his own life in despair. 

I cannot help but think of those who, rather than being men of prayer and action, consume media to an inordinate degree until the sorrows of the world paralyze them. They then shirk their duties, trapped in an unhealthy cycle of fear and spiritual tepidity.

The remedy for these men is to shut off the news, log off of 𝕏, and get back to the basics. Fulfill your duties manfully, with exactitude. Get comfortable with silence. Rather than feeding your fear and curiosity with a never-ending media diet, pray to God for deliverance. This world needs more contemplatives—not more consumers.

Evasion

Those who evade turn a blind eye to the manifest warnings of danger and evil. In Tolkien’s world, the folk of the Shire and of Bree exemplify this vice. They observe the growing peril in the world but are too concerned with their own comfortable existence to be bothered.

So, too, in our own age, many dismiss the signs of the times with a wave of the hand. Catholic prophecies, as seen in the apparitions of Our Lady of Fatima and Our Lady of Akita, demand our attention and serious reflection. These messages carry apocalyptic weight and are echoed by the preaching of many pontiffs over the past two centuries.

All too often, even among faithful Catholics, the mention of these divine warnings provoke little reaction: ‘‘That is private revelation. We’re not obligated to believe it.” Others may believe in the authenticity of these signs but respond with a cynical resignation: “The world is not changing, so what can be done?”

Such attitudes are in direct opposition to Our Lord’s admonitions. If enough people were to seriously heed Our Lady’s messages, perhaps the future woes of our world could be averted. 

Worldly Concern

The third type of response comes from the carnal man. He acknowledges the surrounding turmoil but takes up his burden to combat evil with a divided heart. In Tolkien’s work, Boromir demonstrates this weakness most profoundly. While initially heeding the advice of the wise, he allows his desires for the preservation of his homeland and earthly glory to corrupt his heart. These desires lead him to betray his friends in an hour when they needed his fortitude and goodwill.

In our day, the carnal man recognizes the perils but allows his instincts of self-preservation to kick in before all else. In these we find the “preppers,” building up their barns of grain to escape the temporal afflictions of our age. While every man should be equipped to handle himself in a crisis, and a modicum of preparation for disaster certainly has its place, it is ultimately up to God to dictate what sufferings we must undergo in this life. A reliance on earthly provisions risks the corruption of supernatural charity, which is the most necessary fortification in times of crisis.

Sacrificial Love

The last cadre, an altogether rare group of men, are those who embrace their calling. These men were made for such times, and they know it. There is a fire in their eyes and an unshakeable resolve in their hearts. The Lord of the Rings is full of such characters, though Aragorn is the peak representation of this kind of manhood. Silent, grave, and watchful, Aragorn is ever striving to do that which is most noble and sacrificial without ever counting the personal cost. As a modern endurance athlete put it so well: 

Be the guy who embraces the ugly, the miserable. Be the guy who embraces hard work, the grind, don’t be afraid of being hurt. Don’t be afraid of sacrificing some blood. Be the guy who thrives in that environment. 

The Challenge

The questions that should be burning in every man’s heart during times like these are not ones of despair, or worry, or worldly concern for the future; they should be questions of holy ambition. Who are you? What would God make of you if you gave yourself fully to Him?

“Give me ten men really detached from the world,” said St. Philip Neri, “and I have the heart to believe I could convert the world with them.”

Men, we were made for these times. Do not be afraid or seek to evade the trials before you. Conceive the noblest ideal possible for yourself, and pursue it with relentless drive. For in doing so, we may yet set a cold world ablaze with the fiery, all-consuming love of God.