No More Knights: An Allegory

I don’t have much experience writing allegory (or fiction in general), so this is going outside my comfort zone. But I’ve been mulling over some of these ideas for a while, and I had a lot of fun condensing them into this form. I’ll refrain from spelling out any of my thoughts on political parallels here as that would defeat the fun of allegory, but I’d love to chat in the comments. Or if you know me personally, we can have a conversation in the real world.

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No More Knights

“No more knights!” It was our rallying cry. We were tired of being damsels in distress, fair maidens in need of rescue. And so, because we were tired, we labored tirelessly to eradicate knighthood. What man invented the stupid system? This senseless dying of men to rescue women who never wanted rescuing. Knighthood reminded us of manhood, and manhood reminded us of womanhood. And womanhood made us feel trapped–trapped in bodies that pulled us homeward, bodies that seemed made for sacrifice. We would be free. We would be our own.

No more knights. Mission accomplished. We proclaimed a holiday the day knighthood was outlawed. We never stopped to wonder how it happened, how our dream became reality, how our utopia became law. If the knights had all the power, how was knighthood outlawed? We celebrated our ceaseless efforts. We never asked why some knights had championed our cause. What were they after? And as our jubilation reached the skies, I looked up. Was that smoke on the distant horizon? No time to wonder; today we celebrate.

No more knights. But the smoke has spread. Smoke everywhere. Dragons. They must have set out the day knighthood ended. Was it a coincidence? How could they know? And now we labor tirelessly to eradicate dragons. But it is harder. We thought when we got rid of the knights that we were invincible. Nothing could stop us. But the dragons will not be tamed. We could domesticate the knights but not the dragons. And now we labor alone. I remember when we complained that the men did everything. Now a new complaint passes our lips: that the men do nothing. Some say it proves we were right never to rely on men. But I wonder…

No more knights. And at night I lie awake. I close my eyes and open them, and I lie in wide-eyed wonder. The wonder that is fear, terror, horror. The beauty is gone. The dragons and their riders have taken everything. The dragon riders. I didn’t believe my eyes the first time I saw them. They were the knights who demanded the eradication of knighthood. They said we were right. They said we were oppressed. They said we didn’t need the knights. But now they ravage our land, riding their terrible beasts. I’m afraid to speak. The women must not know of my doubts. Above all, the dragon riders must not know. And how could I tell the good men that I was wrong, that I miss the days of knighthood? Humility runs against all I have worked for. 

No more knights. But as my fear grows, so does my hope. Hope growing in the most unlikely of places: within my womb. I didn’t know it when we were demolishing knighthood, when we celebrated, or when the dragons arrived. But now it is undeniable. A new life dependent on my life. I fought for freedom, autonomy, being my own. But now I begin to see that it was a war against my own body. For my body tells a strange story of sacrificial love and life-giving surrender. It tells of interdependence, of life intertwined with life, of love begetting love. Of woman made from man and man born of woman and all things from God. I wonder, Who is this new person? What joys and fears, strengths and weaknesses, triumphs and trials will be yours, little one? I’ve made a mess of this world you’re entering. Forgive me, my child. If you are a daughter, I pray you don’t inherit your mother’s folly. I pray you realize the beauty and glory of the calling built into every fiber of your being. I pray you accept what I rejected and don’t make war on yourself as I did. And little one, if you are a son, I pray that you grow into what your mother helped destroy. I pray you become the hero I villainized. May you become a man and a knight. Become the man your father was, the hero whose story I never intended to tell, the knight who died rescuing me. 

An Alternative to the Proverbs 31 Woman

In the narthex of my church, just outside the open sanctuary doors, there is a large painting of Mary holding the infant Jesus. It’s there all year round, not just during the seasons of Advent, Christmas, and Epiphany. Before Hosanna was born, I didn’t think much of this painting. Now, however, I notice it often. On those Sundays when Hosanna refuses to play cheerfully in the pews, I sometimes take her out to this area of the narthex. There is something wonderful about looking at that painting on those mornings. It comforts and inspires me when I realize, amidst my frustration at not getting to sit through the entire Divine Service, that Mary cared for the Christ Child in similar ways. Her example of sacrificial love somehow makes it easier to pace back and forth with a fussy baby as I listen to the sermon and liturgy. 

Last year, I noticed something interesting while reading Catholic bloggers. Though I had always known that Roman Catholics have a very high view of the Virgin Mary (including some unbiblical dogmas), I had never considered the practical impact this might have on Catholic women. It struck me that these Catholic women seemed to speak of the Virgin Mary in ways that reminded me of how I had grown up hearing Evangelicals talk about the Proverbs 31 woman. And as I considered the comparison, I wondered if the Catholic woman’s model might be more inspiring–and even more grace-filled.

If you’re familiar with conservative Evangelical culture, you might have noticed the prominent role that the Proverbs 31 woman plays in Bible studies for women and girls. A quick Google search confirms that there are lots of voices out there ready to tell women what it means to be a Proverbs 31 woman. And maybe there’s a place for that. The Proverbs 31 woman is indeed a good example of virtuous femininity. But there’s something that makes her less inspiring than Mary: she isn’t a flesh and blood human being. She’s an ideal. The section that describes this virtuous woman begins by asking who can find her (Prov. 31:10a). 

Another thing that makes this an odd text for women’s Bible studies is that this is a poem taught by a mother to her son, describing a virtuous wife. At the end of a book in which Solomon has been urging his son to seek wisdom, we find this oracle in which King Lemuel’s mother shows him a very practical way to do this: seek a virtuous wife. Like wisdom, she is “more precious than jewels” (Prov. 3:15; 31:10). Rather than describing the ideal woman we should all strive to be, King Lemuel’s mother is teaching him of “a woman who fears the LORD,” which might remind us of what Solomon said is “the beginning of wisdom” (Prov. 9:10; 31:30).

I remember being in a young adults’ discussion of dating and courtship when the topic of masculinity and femininity came up. The dad leading the discussion commented that it’s nice how women have a model of femininity in the Proverbs 31 woman, and he said that guys don’t really have that for masculinity. Then he added, “I guess they have Jesus.” As a young woman, I felt like I had really gotten the short end of the stick in this comparison. Girls get the Proverbs 31 woman, and guys get Jesus?! That hardly seems fair. At the time, I remember reflecting on how Jesus is the model for all Christians, not just guys (and I’m sure the man who made this comment would have agreed with this clarification).  

But, while Jesus is our greatest example, He can’t be our model of femininity. So who do we look to for an example of godly womanhood? Scripture and church history provide many diverse accounts of faithful women who were used by God in His story of redemption. We can learn from all of their examples, but perhaps none of them provide as clear an image of biblical femininity as Mary. She “found favor with God” and accepted His will as His humble servant (Luke 1:30, 38). She told Jesus of the needs of others and trusted His authority, telling the servants at the wedding at Cana, “Do whatever he tells you” (John 2:5). She stood by the cross as He died (John 19:25). After His resurrection and ascension, she “devoted [herself] to prayer” with the other believers (Acts 1:14).

As I mentioned at the beginning of this post, Mary inspires me as a mom. But her life is an example of femininity in all its vocations, not just motherhood. (And perhaps we need to broaden our understanding of what motherhood really means so that we recognize it in all forms of fruitful, life-giving womanhood; there’s an excellent post on that here.) Mary submitted to God’s plan for her own life. Imitating her example of faith can look very different in the lives of different Christian women.

Seeing Mary as an inspiring example of godly womanhood doesn’t mean we have to give up the Proverbs 31 woman, though. Rather, we can see the fulfillment of this Old Testament poem in Mary’s Magnificat. Proverbs 31 says that this virtuous woman’s children “rise up and call her blessed” (v. 28). This is fulfilled beautifully when Mary declares, “For behold, from now on all generations will call me blessed” (Luke 1:48). Just as the Proverbs 31 woman’s children call her blessed, so the church–the offspring of the woman (Rev. 12:17)–calls Mary blessed. Elizabeth is the first to do this when she exclaims, “Blessed are you among women, and blessed is the fruit of your womb… blessed is she who believed that there would be a fulfillment of what was spoken to her by the Lord” (Luke 1:42, 45). As Proverbs 31 says, “A woman who fears the Lord is to be praised” (v. 30). Mary embodies this praiseworthy womanhood. 

What do you think? Do Christians need examples of masculinity and femininity? Is Mary a model of biblical femininity? Does her example offer something we can’t get from the Proverbs 31 woman alone? I’d love to hear your thoughts!