The genius of knighthood was the genius of Western Christendom itself: at its best, it took the heroic spirit of a warrior people and infused it with the Christian spirit of charity toward others and denial of self. The man who was ready to fight—however noble the cause—was not yet ready to be a knight. The code of chivalry allowed the warrior to fight because it first ensured he knew how to fight.

It is a universal feature of human nature that we long to be a part of something bigger than ourselves. We want a goal, a purpose, a noble cause to which we can give our lives. Men, in particular, are often stirred by this longing. It’s why we are drawn to sports, to competition, to professional ladder-climbing, to risk-taking, and to the glories of war. It’s why that meme went around about how often men think about the Roman Empire. 

It’s also why an increasing number of Christians are drawn to the ideas and ideals of Christendom, that period of history dating from late antiquity through the Middle Ages, when European society and culture were closely tied to the church and bore deep imprints of being shaped by Christianity. Not only does the re-creation of Christendom provide an audacious goal for the future, it also provides a nostalgic remembrance of the (romanticized) past. When the Holy Land is overrun, so to speak, there is no choice but to launch a Crusade. Thus, brave Christians—the manly ones—will gird up their loins, pick up their swords, and ride out into battle against the enemy. 

The romantic appeal of Christendom is that it still believes in knights.

The Knight’s High Calling

That need not be a bad thing. We need heroes from the past, as well as inspiration for the present. And the knight has proved to be an enduring symbol of valor for almost a thousand years. But if Christian men are going to aspire to be these heroic defenders of Christendom, we ought to know what these knights were supposed to be like.

Medieval knights were men, often from the nobility, who received training and instruction so that they might be of special service to God and to the Church. At the heart of their multi-year apprenticeship was comprehensive instruction in chivalry. Although the origins of chivalry were secular, the concept became closely aligned with Christianity. As medieval historian Maurice Keen explains in his book, Chivalry, the knight had three basic duties. The first duty was to defend the faith of Christ against unbelievers (note: not to wield the sword against other Christians). His next duty was to defend his earthly lord. His third responsibility was to protect the weak. In pursuit of these duties, the knight might be sent on a crusade far away, or he might be asked to exercise his responsibilities closer to home. 

As important as these obligations were, the manner in which the knight carried them out was as important as the duties themselves. The most significant legacy of chivalry, Keen maintains, is that it established norms of service and self-restraint that became synonymous with heroism throughout Christian history and in the Western tradition more generally. The chivalric ideal identified and codified which acts and which attitudes were considered honorable. Chivalry prized bravery, fortitude, and physical prowess—but also humility, gentlemanly behavior, and courtliness toward women. The two sets of virtues were never to be separated. At all times, the knight was to be noble and courteous.

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