Goodness

Several times in the last day or so, I have been made aware of my own uncharitable and prideful nature. As one old friend pointed out a while back, I shouldn't be kicking people when they're down. And not with polished leather shoes. Even if a lot of it is in my own mind.

It was very bad of me. Hence, a new resolution. Be kind. Forgive. And most difficult for the proud, seek forgiveness.

There are lots of excuses a man can dream of in order to avoid such difficulties. But they don't really excuse, do they? As Lewis once pointed out, it is silly to think up excuses when the Highest knows all the things which can legitimately excuse you, and those that don't. You can be assured that in the divine order of justice, you will be excused where excuse is due.

And also, you will be judged as judgement is due, especially if you think you are beyond it. So, do all things in love.

Hence, this blog will have to stop being angry. And I advise my distant fellows elsewhere to perhaps reconsider your anger too. Some of you have duly done so, and I appreciate that; we can all learn from each other to be kind, to forbear, to "trust God, see all, nor be afraid."

The fellowship remains strong, but perhaps we should not make things harder for the Citadel as it approaches what might very well be a renaissance. We should live in hope, and not in Schadenfreude. There are, after all, ways to seal the Abyss.

Did it take a pagan poet to remind us of this? Sigh. I repent, and hope it will stick.

Avoidance As A Leadership Strategy

Today I was reading a passage on kingship and its failings. It came to me that I had missed an essential part of the theory of leadership, and that is the message that avoidance of wrath is an integral part of the whole circus.

In the passage above, Saul attempts to avoid the wrath of God and the people, while David attempts to avoid Saul's wrath. It is all a terribly intricate pas de deux, performed by two men, the old grizzled powerful warrior and the young slightly naïve one who is trying to serve him faithfully. That naïveté is what plagues David for years thereafter, even when he himself has become the grizzled power in the land, but has to deal with the scheming puissance of Joab.

But David learns that evil lesson well. Joab does not survive David's vengeance as executed by Solomon, even though he tries hiding behind the altar of God. The whole thing is a mess. Perhaps it is best in the end to forgive, forget, avoid, and keep a sharp knife nearby for self-defence; I think it's a strategy most valuable.

Temperament

By nature, as often confessed before, I am a creature of wrath and pride. Not anger or arrogance, those more human shades of infamy, but ira and superbia, as the ancients used to call them – two of the seven deadly sins. By faith, as I have made thanksgiving for many times as well, I am a creature in whom these natural urges are balanced by the temperance of patience and humility, sometimes bitterly imposed upon this mortal soul. The ancients would have called me a creature of bile, both choleric and melancholy; but as we know, all this classification is twaddle – after all, the two are opposed, so how should it be so?

And yet, when faced with students who prefer not to learn their lessons, one is tempted again. It is a mortification to my flesh, the returning realisation that one is not immune to sin, although one may have been justified by faith. The instinct to wrath is the worst in my family; the men all have it to a large extent. The instinct to pride is a bad complement to it: in wrath, one is oft tempted to use one's intellect as a bludgeon rather than a rapier, but in pride, one is tempted to use it both ways, to pierce and wound as well as to bruise. The phrases, 'a sound thumping' and 'a good thrashing' come to mind, with attendant shudders and a sense of sadness that one should think of them in the first place.

And so, one smiles a lot, and trusts by faith in one's calling and the One calling. But on some days it is very hard. Very hard, dolorous almost, painful, and wrenching to the soul. The natural self is quite a beast to ride. Sigh. But otherwise, how could one be tempered? Certainly not by losing one's temper through distemper or intemperance. Certainly not by taking apart the works of other men in order to establish one's own. And certainly not by allowing the spleen to override the brain.

Patience

Patience is a virtue. It is one I largely lack except through the intervention of the Holy Spirit; my ancestors would concur and sympathise. When patience is exhausted, one can allow it to recharge or draw on the infinite supply. But in this world, the infinite supply will not easily fit the mortal frame. It is not a perfect distribution.

So, faced with magpie approaches to the work of ravens, one tends to reflect on the different shades of corvid meaning, and take pleasure in the fact that black does not distract.