Can Sir Galahad Save Us?

March 2, 1986
Lakeland

For me, these turbulent days make relevant the peril of falling victim to the Galahad frame of mind. [Because] our national motives are pure and our way of life threatened, our President, based on his convictions, urges that the military appropriations be increased, even though over $1 trillion has been spent for arms in the last four years; another $100 million for the Contras in Nicaragua because they are the good guys and the Sandinistas are the bad communists. [CJW note: Communist Party Congress – everything OK but for imperialist United States]. The people in the Philippines are rejoicing because Mrs. Aquino, who has been compared to Joan of Arc, has triumphed over Marcos. This November in Florida and other states, governors, congressmen and senators will be chosen. The campaigns are well under way; millions of dollars will be spent to persuade us that our salvation lies in this candidate or that, because he/she is beyond reproach and the opponent is flawed, inept, or corrupt. Perhaps our authentic national and world problems are compounded by an over-supply of Sir Galahads.

But, can Sir Galahad save us?

Vulnerability to being victimized by the “Galahad Syndrome” is one of the chronic diseases threatening all lives and times. The Galahad Syndrome is the name that a social scientist, some years ago, attached to the combination of virtues which characterized the mythical Sir Galahad. Without fear and without reproach, Sir Galahad was the perfect knight. Because he was celibate, he had no blemish of character, no unworthy motives, he was able to slay dragons, vanquish evil, and rescue helpless ladies. Galahad saw the Holy Grail unveiled and was transported to heaven triumphantly. “His strength was the strength of ten because his heart was pure.”

Why is such pristine purity a danger? To count on Sir Galahad to save us involves the perils of self-deceit and the swindle of the too-easy answer.

In the epic literature of the Welsh, Celtic, and [Saxon?] peoples, Galahad is innocent, courageous, simple, and chaste. Tennyson put these words in his mouth:

“And in the strength of this I rode,
Shattering all evil customs everywhere,
And past through Pagan realms, and made them mine....”

Galahad was not an historical figure, but a myth derived from ancient tales, which were transformed and garnished by 13th century romantic chivalry and the miraculous, sacramental religious ideas of that time. There are levels of meaning in myths, as Joseph Campbell has written in his penetrating studies of mythology, but that is not my subject today.

The myths of the days of chivalry may be exciting reading for juveniles and, for that matter, we adults in romantic moods, but one of humankind’s most common blunders occurs when the Galahad idea captures the mind of a person or a nation.

Javert, the policemen in Les Miserables, is obsessed to the point of madness with the letter of the law, rather than its spirit. Hugo, writing of this relentless guardian of the law codes, notes, “Nothing could be more painful and terrible than this face which revealed what we may call the evil of Good.” Paul Tillich wrote, “The power which is necessary for every bringing to fruition of something alive has the tendency – in the political just as in the personal dimension – to cut loose from the goal which it should serve, ... and then to develop a reality destructive of frontiers and contrary to nature. It is not power that is evil, but the power which is cut loose from its essential limit.” (THE FUTURE OF RELIGIONS, p. 60).

The old fish story of Jonah gives another clue to the perils of the Galahad obsession. Jonah feels called to go to the Assyrian metropolis of Nineveh to bring the religion and message of the Hebrew’s God. Before he has a chance to preach his convictions, the king of Nineveh and his people had turned to the worship of Yahveh.

Instead of being gratified at this reformation, Jonah was aggrieved and resentful. He was angry because the people of Nineveh had found their own way to a better religion. He could not claim the crown of religious conqueror. Like Ahab in a more recent fish story, Jonah wanted to play God.

The lesson has never been learned. As one considers the many centuries of Western history, it becomes apparent that too much is clouded-over with the self-deceit of the Galahad Syndrome.

As the early Christian church developed, the believers felt they had a divinely-inspired command to “go and make disciples of all the heathen, baptizing them in the name of the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit.” However much we may respect their devotion and ardor, believing that only in Christianity of a particular sort was there purity, wisdom, and salvation, and everywhere else, pagan dragons were to be overwhelmed by Christian Galahads, such was – and is – a false theology.

Christianity, even in its earliest decades, was a blend of cultures and religions. Even though many would claim that Christianity was a flowering of all the best of the past, does the blossom reject the twig? Can the ripened fruit claim that the bough which bears it is degraded, different, and should be destroyed?

Christianity received its philosophical base from the wisdom of the Greeks; Christianity benefited by the laws, ceremonies, and disciplines of the pre-Christian Romans, and became a great religion because of Hebrew monotheism, Hebrew social ethics, Hebrew prophecy, and Hebrew song.

Furthermore, the ascribing of the virtues of Galahad to various historical persons is one of the errors which oversimplified or biased history has produced.

One notorious instance is that of the King of the Franks in the 8th century – Charles the Great – Charlemagne. If a student of European history were asked which Christian monarch was known as the “Prince of Peace,” the acceptable answer would probably be Charlemagne. He was canonized as a saint by the Latin church in the 12th century. He is one of those about whom the legend has grown that he is not dead, but sleeping. When some great crisis threatens mankind, Charlemagne will awaken and, like Galahad, destroy the dragons of evil.

Now while Charlemagne did do some notable things, including the promotion of education and the building of libraries, it is sheer fabrication to think of him as the “Prince of Peace.” He was almost constantly at war in what are now Italy, Germany, France, and Spain. The biographical historian Richard Winston wrote of him, “No one seemed to think that Charles’ incessant wars were inconsistent with his being the Prince of Peace .... Peace always seems more peaceful to the victor than the vanquished. And the Franks were winning almost everywhere.”

It is not only in religion that we should resist thinking of ourselves as Galahads, but in our entire response to other people, their ways, and their ideas.

The people in every century, I suppose, believe that their time in history is the most critical of all ages. In the 20th century, we are no exception. There is some measure of evidence to justify our belief in the importance, not only of the whole century, but the particular significance of these latter decades. We will either live in peace or die in war, utterly and finally.

In national and international social, economic, and political issues, the temptation is great to fall victims of the Galahad Syndrome.

The gospel of John (1 46/47) tells how Nathaniel, hearing stories of Jesus, says to Philip, “Can any good come out of Nazareth?” and Philip answers, “Come and see.” There is strong temptation facing persons in our Western alliance to be like Nathaniel and ask skeptically, “Can any good come out of the Soviet Union? Or Nicaragua? Or Cuba?” A Soviet may ask, “can any good come out of the United States?” Philip’s pragmatic advice is still needed, “Come and see.” Wilfred Cantwell Smith, the eminent philosopher of world religions, wrote, “What a man (sic) does is misunderstood if conceived wholly from the outside.”

When we are sick with the symptoms of the Galahad Syndrome, we will be positive that our military, political, or religious tribe is innocent, chaste, pure of motive, and the savior of the nations. The only obstacle to world peace, some of our leaders and the leaders in the Soviet Union seem to believe, is the obstinacy or villainy of nations and peoples who are different.

Furthermore, a tragic viewpoint is to treasure the notion that if all the nations became like us in manners, governments, and economics, swords would be beaten into ploughshares and nuclear/biological war would no longer threaten us. Nothing could be more mistaken.

The Roman Brutus stabbed the Roman Julius; Kaiser Wilhelm was cousin of King George; Chaing Kai Shek and Mao Tse Tung were both Chinese; Cain was Abel’s brother. Being like one another does not prevent wars. We have fought two wars against England, [and] two terrible wars against Germany. Of all the nations of Europe, we are most like the English and Germans in manner, culture, and religion. The most costly and tragic of our wars, the Civil War, pitted American against American in a tide of blood and bitterness, not yet fully ebbed more than 120 years after Appomattox.

[CJW note: the bloody and destructive 16th century wars of religion were fought by Christians against Christians – Catholics vs. Protestants. Iran and Iraq, both thoroughly Moslem countries, continue years of devastating war]

Similarities of history, religion, language, and culture bring many rewards, but offer no guarantee against war, disaster, or social struggle. Universalism is a proper noun when referring to our denomination, the UUA. We believe it an aspiring religion of depth which supports freedom, reason, and conscience. But it is universalism with a small “u” that can be the antidote to the poison of believing that only one group is pure and [another is,] without cause, to be reproached. Universalism in this sense is an attitude toward oneself and others which rejects the self-righteous deceit of the Galahad Syndrome. [CJW note: A universalism that admits the humanness of everyone – and to be human is to be fallible and self-interested, as well as idealistic and understanding].

The Countess in Christopher Fry’s play, THE DARK IS LIGHT ENOUGH, expressed our common lot. She speaks in pride and dignity, not in scorn or disdain:

“Innocent?
I am always guilty of what I do,
Thank God.
Let us say
We are all confused, incomprehensible,
Dangerous, contemptible, corrupt.
And in that condition pass the evening
Thankfully and well. In our plain defects
We already know the brotherhood of man.”

The one human family is not made up of identical products turned out like soda bottles on a spinning conveyor. We are all different – and none like Galahad (a Galahad that never was). The boundaries between good and evil are never so precise as the legends of the Round Table might persuade us. Kipling wrote, “What do they know of England, who only England know?”

To put Wilfred Cantwell Smith’s observation another way, What people or nations do is misunderstood if conceived wholly from the outside.

The chances of peoples and nations getting along together in peace will improve, not so much as we may begin to wear the same jeans, drive the same cars, view the same TV programs, read the same books. I believe most police departments would report that in sheer frequency of calls, domestic squabbles and violence are by far the most frequent. The task is to acknowledge, and if possible, appreciate, our differences, and live and let live.

From a planetary point of view, then, to count on one economic or political system to bring peace or one theology to bring all together in good will is most unlikely and hardly desirable.

There are no pure nations. Every nation has fears which can easily proceed from misunderstanding to antagonism to hate. There are no pure, completely true religions. We are human, fallible, self-interested, but with some capacity to grow beyond our faults when we perceive that the great task is not to slay dragons, but to share agreements which acknowledge differences. We all need high visions of peace and good will, but we need to guard against ideals becoming tainted with a sick passion to make everyone in our mold.