Entry XII--The Hollow Knight

Another branch rudely slapped the Teutonic warrior across the cheek. Stung harder than the last one, and harder than any wench he'd ever carried off for a rape after he'd pillaged a hapless village.

Still, he was getting increasingly annoyed by the increasing foliage. His dim noggin wondered: "Was there ever an end to this accursed forest? Would he ever find his adversary or was he doomed to trod in circles, forever lost in this woodland maze?"

He was the greatest fighter in this region dominated by the seemingly endless Black Forest.

The warrior had taken on all comers in the territory and was undefeated in battle. His axe always split his opponent’s head evenly on the first blow or his sword cut a man’s heart out in a single motion, whichever weapon of battle he was moved to use at a given moment.

Of course, he viewed warfare of any kind as sort of artform and he took great pride in his creative abilities in that regard. It was the only thing he really did with his life outside of eating, drinking and raping, so he treated it as an art. That is to say, as much as his underdeveloped medieval brain could comprehend being an 'artist.’

There was that one time when an advesary managed to avoid death, but only thanks to his cowardly flee back from whence he came.

Even though he had no cause, the warrior viewed the encounter as a defeat, because his opponent survived, even though the dog would not soon be returning.

Otherwise, he had successfully defended his territory and had met every challenge.

Except one.

The one challenge not to be found in defending his territory. This challenge he had to go out and face.

The challenge he was pursuing at that moment, the challenge that saw him delving his way deeper into the Schwarzwald, cutting through the swath with his great phallic sword of shining steel, the sword that had carried him through countless victories in battle.

For he was in pursuit of the greatest challenge of them all, to face the enemy who had never even had to settle for a draw.

A new kind of warrior: Fido, the Teutonic Knight of Faith. They say Fido had a secret. A secret that held the key to the Knight’s power, and ultimately defeating him, but a secret no one survived to discover.

Some said the secret was just a rumor, a myth, that there was no secret and no way to defeat Fido.

But the Germanic warrior could not concern himself with secrets and how to defeat Fido. He lost track of how many days he had been wandering in the desolate forest. But he knew he couldn’t stop, because if he turned back now, he’d never return. This was a once-in-a-lifetime sojourn, to be either met or abandoned.

This would be the only chance he’d have to face--and to defeat--Fido.

See, the thing about the Fido was, Fido did not have to come to him, the warrior had to go to the Fido. As feared and respected as the warrior was, those were nothing compared to the fear and respect Fido commanded.

After the passing of another day, when he was completely out of both food and water, finally the warrior came upon a clearing the Black Forest, and though his eyes were clouded from lack of sleep, it didn’t take the vision of a hawk to spy the Knight of Faith

Fido’s armor shone brilliantly, almost blindingly, even across this clearing.

The warrior checked that both blade and axe were close at hand and he made his way towards the Knight.

As he drew nearer, he saw that Fido made no movements whatsoever, just stood there. Unbelievable how confident the Knight was, the warrior thought.

The warrior glanced to the ground and soon found evidence of the Knight’s confidence—corpses and skeletal remains strewn all about, the remnants of previous warriors who had come to challenge the Knight—and had lost.

That was no myth, the warrior realized—no one had even made a mark on the pristine steel of the Knight’s armor.

But there was something suspicious about the corpses still with flesh; there were no wounds. It was as if they just collapsed from…exhaustion, or perhaps from some strange malady, a curse.

That the Knight was bewitched was also a rumor he had heard and this incredible sight did nothing to diminish that possibility in his mind.

Still, this proud warrior was not going to be like that coward who fled from him. He continued his charge towards Fido, who remained still.

At the last moment, the warrior opted for his axe, hoping its sharp edge could split the armor...

But after delivering the blow, he made not a scratch on the Knight's armor.

The momentum of his blow had carried him off to the side of the Knight. Switching to his sword, the warrior swung the blade at the Knight's left arm...

But once again, nary a mark was made on the Knight.

It was almost as if there was a magickal force field between the Knight and any weapon that sought to harm him.

No matter, the warrior had not traveled this far to surrender after a mere two missed blows...

And though he was without food, water or sleep, the warrior visciously attacked the Knight from all angles and with all the weapons at his disposal. He even tried a lance he borrowed from a fallen combatant.

But none of them could touch the Knight.

After several hours, with the sun sinking and the moon rising, the warrior was resigned to his fate; that Fido was unbeatable and that he would die here like all the rest and the Knight of Faith would remain undefeated in battle.

Completely exhausted, the warrior staggered and struggled to stay on his feet. Dizzy and about to hit the ground probably never to rise again, the warrior had only one regret, that he was not able to learn the Knight's secret...

The more the warrior raised his sword or axe to the Knight the more he believed he could not inflict any damage.

Maybe that was the warrior's problem. Maybe he should stop believing that, he decided.

And somewhere, somehow, the warrior summoned a reserve of energy that was unique onto him.

Choosing his sword, the weapon that had been his companion since his callow youth, the warrior raised the blade high above head and just before pulling it down, he stopped believing that there is some kind of invisible barrier between his blade of steel and Fido's armor of steel.

And just like that, his sword connects with the Knight's helmet, sending it spiraling to the ground.

The warrior was taken aback. He wasn't expecting that.

And where was the blood? Cautiously, still wary of some sorcery afoot, the warrior walked up to the decapitated Knight.

Not a trace of blood or severed flesh near the open area of Fido's armor. Having thrown aside all apprehension, the warrior peered down into the the body of the armor, and it was then and there he discovered the Knight of Faith's secret...

That 'he' was a hollow knight, and not any kind of real adversary at all.

Fido's power had all been a charade, a lie. All the previous opponents had only gone down to defeat to 'him' because they believed the Knight of Faith was invincible.

Only until the warrior determined that by ceasing to believe would allow him to strike the Knight, was Fido defeated.

But not defeated 'once and for all' as the saying goes, because the Knight of Faith will be restored, and hollow no longer, once the next opponent venturing forth chooses to believe in the myth.

Actually felt a bit liberated while writing that fiction.

First time I’ve dabbled in it since...geez, since college, I reckon.

But this was the first time I ever enjoyed it.

Ms. Cabal was right (no surprise there), incorporating other elements like fiction will make the essays stronger.

The Hollow Knight is the perfect metaphor to convey the concept of faith.

(Okay 'perfect' may be a bit cocky, but I'd like to see some writer come up with a better metaphor for faith).

Reading it over, can see that this little bit of fiction I just squeezed out conveys the underlying theme I want to emphasize in this essay, and indeed, throughout the entire collection of essays—that christianity has to be abandoned by one person at a time in order to be dissected from the culture at large. Waging a war in the name of secularism, science or logic won’t cut it.

(Sure, people have been turning away from organized religion progressively in the last century and a half but we need the ones who vote for born-again politicians and policies to start turning away).

As I was saying, The Hollow Knight is the most fitting (there, is that less pretentious than ‘perfect?’) metaphor for faith because that is what faith truly is—an abstract impenetrable armor that no rational argument can defeat--but if one ever got past the armo, by merely ceasing to have faith, one would find that the armor was encasing not a thing (faith is necessary to ‘breathe life’ into an otherwise imaginary deity that only exists in the hearts and minds of the faithful).

Faith is an impenetrable armor ‘cause it can never be destroyed, nor even dented, like the armor of Fido the Knight. Nor can it legitimately offer one any real kind of help. It is a hollow suit of armor, a house of cards, a broken promise.

Faith can only be given up. Only an individual can decide to possess faith and only an individual can decide he/she will no longer be faithful.

Only the individual can adopt faith and only the individual can abandon faith.

Faith is the one element of religion that can never really be defeated. It is the lifeblood of christianity, as it is for every other organized religion. As long as faith exists, christianity exists.

You could blow up every church, burn every bible, disband the Crusaders and cancel every televangelist program and/or channel on satellite, and it still wouldn’t diminish the faith of christians.

In fact, it might very well strengthen their faith.

That is why faith is a much more powerful weapon than force itself.

Without faith, christianity would have to resort to force to maintain their grip on the masses. Of course, this has been tried many times in the past, yet faith has proven to be a much more effective measure of control. Force may win one nation control over another, but it’s faith which converts the people to the conquering nation. The gods of the previous regime's faith becomes the demons of the new regime's religion.

Force is still employed however, when dealing with nonbelievers or those of a different religion, witness the Persian Wars.

Force is also used by christian extremists, who bomb abortion clinics.

So make no mistake, force is still a weapon used by christians and christian nations alike, but guns and missiles have always been surpassed by the deployment of faith. For faith was around when those guns and missiles were but swords and spears.

Force shoves christianity down the throat of the convert, while faith seductively wraps itself around the convert’s shoulders, like a soothing massage, with the warm promise of eternal salvation.

Perhaps the most despicable quality of faith is its exploitation of many distinguishing characteristics of a transcendent individual—an indomitable will, perseverance, standing by one’s own convictions and not letting outside influences unduly sway one.

The above should exclusively define one who is not shackled and bound by the dull constraints of christianity, not a bored-again clone whose primary purpose in life is to create more born-again clones.

That's the difference between a genuine freethinker and a born-again. The freethinker is going to create something the world has never seen, even if it's bad poetry. All the born-again is going to produce is another converted christian.

(Okay, the previous graph is digressing a bit. That sort of observation is better suited for another essay, methinks).

Bottom line, faith cannot be removed by any freethinker’s arguments. Yes, persuasive rational arguments, such as hopefully found in this essay, could influence a christian to abandon his/her faith, but it is ultimately up to that person to make that decision, to abandon faith, to cut the ties that bind.

While faith in christianity is both abandoned and chosen by the individual, it is not something the individual would choose to accept without first being indoctrinated into accepting the faith. If a child is raised without any christian influences, the child will not decide to become christian of his/her volition. For the simple fact that it’s not natural.

Unfortunately, very few children are raised in this culture without being exposed to christianity’s nearly endless reach, as will be explored in a later essay (‘later’ because I don’t know which essay will address that subject).

There I go, digressing again. Time to reel it in for this writing sesh.

This will easily be one of the shortest essays in the book, if not the shortest. While faith is a critical topic that has to be confronted right off the bat, there’s only so much that can be said on the subject, especially when I’m admitting right off the bat that it is pretty much invulnerable, except when it is renounced by an individual.

With this essay, I immediately establish that the fictional sections aren’t intended to necessarily tell a story, but the reader will find at the end that they have, in a way. Or at least, that's my intention.

But all of the fictional is intended to be flexible, to allow me to jump back and forth in and out of space and time. I'm imagining a portrayal of christ in the 1960's.

Fact is, my mind's brimming with ideas, the challenge will be getting them all written out and saved to computer before I lose the fire.

Ah, shit. Shouldn't have allowed that seed of doubt to be planted.

Don't have time to lose the fire...

And if I do, the rest of me might as well be extinguished along with it.