Category: Order of Chivalry

The Book of the Order of Chivalry (c. 1275), was written by Ramon Llull (1232–1315), a polymath and Christian mystic from Majorca. Llull thought that knights should be chosen, trained, and ordained like priests. Llull’s book became a handbook of chivalry throughout much of Europe. Being a Christian mystic, of course he writes about Chivalry using Christian vocabulary. But I think his ideas transcend any particular Spiritual Tradition.

Llull wrote over 250 books on a wide range of subjects, including theology, philosophy, logic, science, and even poetry. (And one on Chivalry!) He is best known for his book Ars Magna — a groundbreaking philosophical and logical system that aimed to uncover universal truths using mathematics — now considered the invention of Mathematical Combinatorics. He was also known for his interest in memory and logical systems more generally: his method of linking virtues to physical objects is an example of the ancient memory technique known as the Memory Palace.

An overview of the Order of Chivalry, and a linked table of contents to all my blogs (with music) on various chapters of Llull’s book can be found HERE.

Here Llull equates the knight’s sword with ‘justice’:

To the knight is given a sword which is made in the shape of a cross to signify that just as our Lord God vanquished on the cross the death of human lineage, to which he was judged for the sin of our the cross with the sword. For Chivalry is to maintain justice, and therefore the sword is double-edged, signifying that he should uphold Chivalry and Justice with the sword.

Llull’s metaphor of the knight’s sword as justice reflects an enduring principle that resonates beyond any particular spiritual or cultural context. The sword, a tool of defense and protection, becomes a powerful symbol for the pursuit of justice—an ideal central to all ethical systems. Llull’s description reveals how justice, like the sword, is both powerful and purposeful, a force that can be wielded for the good of society and the individual alike.

“The sword is made in the shape of a cross.”
The shape of the sword, resembling a cross, connects justice to the idea of sacrifice and moral duty. Just as in Christianity the cross represents a profound act of sacrifice for the salvation of humanity, the sword symbolizes the knight’s duty to sacrifice personal gain or comfort for the sake of justice. In this way, the sword is not merely a tool of force but a reminder that justice is often achieved through selflessness, discipline, and even personal cost. This concept is not exclusive to Christianity but echoes in various traditions. For example, in Buddhism, the Bodhisattva’s path reflects a commitment to alleviating the suffering of others, while in Hinduism, the notion of dharma emphasizes one’s duty to uphold righteousness, even at personal expense.

“The sword signifies that Chivalry is to maintain justice.”
In Llull’s worldview, the knight’s chivalric role is deeply intertwined with the pursuit of justice. This idea extends beyond the medieval notion of chivalry and connects to broader ideas of moral duty found in many cultures. In the Confucian tradition, for instance, the idea of yi (righteousness) reflects a similar responsibility to uphold justice and fairness in all one’s actions. The knight’s sword, therefore, becomes a universal symbol of how individuals in positions of power or responsibility must serve justice, not wield power for selfish gain.

“The sword is double-edged, signifying that he should uphold Chivalry and Justice with the sword.”
The double-edged nature of the sword signifies balance and the dual nature of justice. True justice must be impartial, applied equally to all, and capable of defending the innocent while punishing wrongdoing. One edge represents mercy, and the other severity—justice requires both, applied in the right measure. Many spiritual traditions emphasize this duality in justice. In Islam, for example, justice (adl) requires both compassion and firmness, and in ancient Greek philosophy, Plato’s concept of justice balances wisdom, courage, and temperance. In this sense, the sword as a double-edged instrument reflects the careful judgment necessary to maintain harmony in the world, ensuring that justice is fair and proportionate.

“The sword symbolizes that justice is active.”
Llull’s metaphor also conveys that justice, like the sword, is not passive—it requires action. A sword in its sheath is useless in a time of need, just as justice, left unfulfilled, allows injustice to flourish. The act of drawing the sword reflects the knight’s willingness to intervene when necessary, standing up for what is right and defending the vulnerable. This resonates with the Hindu principle of karma, which emphasizes that righteous action, when performed without attachment to personal outcomes, helps maintain cosmic order. Similarly, in Taoism, wu wei (effortless action) suggests that sometimes justice requires intervention that flows from deep alignment with the natural order.

“Justice is rooted in moral and spiritual authority.”
The cross-shape of the sword also reminds us that justice is not merely a human construct, but something deeper, connected to higher moral or spiritual principles. The knight’s sword, given to him as a divine tool, reflects the idea that justice is not arbitrary but rooted in a universal order, a concept shared across spiritual traditions. In Christianity, justice is tied to the divine law of love and compassion, while in Buddhism, the Eightfold Path provides guidelines for ethical conduct based on the truths of existence. The sword, in this context, becomes a reminder that justice must align with a higher sense of truth, wisdom, and harmony.

“Justice as a sacred duty.”
The image of the knight with his sword as a protector of justice reminds us that this duty is sacred and universal. It is not about dominance or vengeance but about maintaining order and balance in the world. Many spiritual traditions elevate justice to a sacred responsibility. In Judaism, the concept of tikkun olam (repairing the world) calls for acts of justice as a way to improve the world. In ancient Egyptian religion, ma’at (truth and justice) was seen as the principle that maintained the universe, and every individual was responsible for contributing to that cosmic order.

In conclusion, Llull’s metaphor of the sword as justice reflects a timeless ideal: that justice must be active, balanced, and rooted in higher principles. Whether through the imagery of the cross or the double edges of the sword, Llull’s vision calls us to understand justice as both a moral and spiritual duty, a force that requires personal sacrifice, discernment, and the will to act for the greater good. Across spiritual traditions, justice is seen as essential for creating harmony and preserving the well-being of both individuals and the larger community, a reflection of the eternal struggle between chaos and order, wrong and right, falsehood and truth.

YouTube

The Book of the Order of Chivalry (c. 1275), was written by Ramon Llull (1232–1315), a polymath and Christian mystic from Majorca. Llull thought that knights should be chosen, trained, and ordained like priests. Llull’s book became a handbook of chivalry throughout much of Europe. Being a Christian mystic, of course he writes about Chivalry using Christian vocabulary. But I think his ideas transcend any particular Spiritual Tradition.

Llull wrote over 250 books on a wide range of subjects, including theology, philosophy, logic, science, and even poetry. (And one on Chivalry!) He is best known for his book Ars Magna — a groundbreaking philosophical and logical system that aimed to uncover universal truths using mathematics — now considered the invention of Mathematical Combinatorics. He was also known for his interest in memory and logical systems more generally: his method of linking virtues to physical objects is an example of the ancient memory technique known as the Memory Palace.

An overview of the Order of Chivalry, and a linked table of contents to all my blogs (with music) on various chapters of Llull’s book can be found HERE.

Here Llull equates the knight’s lance with ‘truth’:

The lance is given to the knight to signify the truth, for the truth is straight and does not bend, and truth goes before falsehood. And the lance-head signifies the power that the truth has over falsehood, and the pennant signifies that the truth reveals itself to all, and has no fear of falsehood or treachery. And truth is the support of hope, as it is of everything else that the knight’s lance signifies regarding the truth.

Llull’s use of the knight’s lance to symbolize truth reflects a universal principle that transcends any single spiritual tradition: the integrity and invincibility of truth in the face of falsehood. By equating the lance with truth, Llull emphasizes qualities that resonate across various philosophical and spiritual teachings—the unyielding, direct, and illuminating nature of truth.

“The truth is straight and does not bend.”

Here, the straightness of the lance represents the clarity and purity of truth. Across cultures, truth is often depicted as something that remains constant, irrespective of circumstances, unlike deceit or falsehood, which is flexible, manipulative, and inconsistent. Just as the lance is designed to cut through barriers, truth slices through illusion and deception, guiding individuals toward deeper understanding. This concept is echoed in many spiritual traditions, where truth is seen as the foundation of wisdom, integrity, and moral living.

“Truth goes before falsehood.”

Truth leads the way, always ahead of falsehood, because falsehood depends on the distortion or absence of truth. In Llull’s metaphor, truth is not reactive but proactive—it is a guiding force. In the larger spiritual context, this idea suggests that seeking truth is not merely a defense against lies but an active pursuit that shapes the world around us. Whether in Buddhism’s commitment to right understanding, the Islamic value of *haqq* (truth), or the ancient Greek *aletheia* (truth as revealing), the act of seeking and embodying truth is regarded as transformative and transcendent.

“The lance-head signifies the power that truth has over falsehood.”

The lance’s sharp tip reflects the penetrating power of truth. Truth is not passive; it has the ability to dismantle falsehood, just as a lance pierces through the defenses of an enemy. This symbolism speaks to the dynamic nature of truth in the world—truth confronts and corrects. Many spiritual paths, from the Daoist emphasis on harmony with the natural order to the Hindu concept of *satya* (truth) as a path to liberation, recognize truth as an active, powerful force that brings alignment with reality.

“The pennant signifies that the truth reveals itself to all, and has no fear of falsehood or treachery.”

Truth, like a pennant waving at the end of the lance, is visible and open. It does not hide, for there is no fear in truth. This openness contrasts with the secretive and deceptive nature of falsehood, which thrives in darkness. The idea of truth being revealed to all aligns with the mystical belief that truth is accessible to everyone, regardless of background or spiritual tradition. In the Christian Gospel, the Buddhist Dharma, the Jewish concept of *emet*, or the Sufi understanding of unveiling the divine truth, the common theme is that truth is something that shines and invites recognition—it is not esoteric but available to those who earnestly seek it.

“Truth is the support of hope.”

Lastly, Llull’s profound statement that “truth is the support of hope” underlines the essential role truth plays in grounding our aspirations. Hope is fragile without truth, for falsehood leads to disillusionment and despair. Truth, by contrast, provides a foundation on which hope can stand firmly, giving us a clear vision of what is real and attainable. This idea of truth sustaining hope is found in many traditions. In the Buddhist path, for instance, hope for liberation is rooted in the truth of suffering and its cessation. In Stoic philosophy, hope is grounded in understanding and accepting the truth of the world’s nature.

Across spiritual traditions, the truth is an eternal principle, guiding people toward ethical action, wisdom, and fulfillment. Llull’s image of the knight’s lance as a symbol of truth reminds us that, regardless of the language or symbolism of a particular tradition, truth remains an unshakable, unifying force that transcends boundaries, leading us toward deeper understanding, justice, and inner peace.

YouTube

The Book of the Order of Chivalry (c. 1275), was written by Ramon Llull (1232–1315), a polymath and Christian mystic from Majorca. Llull thought that knights should be chosen, trained, and ordained like priests. Llull’s book became a handbook of chivalry throughout much of Europe. Being a Christian mystic, of course he writes about Chivalry using Christian vocabulary. But I think his ideas transcend any particular Spiritual Tradition.

Llull wrote over 250 books on a wide range of subjects, including theology, philosophy, logic, science, and even poetry. (And one on Chivalry!) He is best known for his book Ars Magna — a groundbreaking philosophical and logical system that aimed to uncover universal truths using mathematics — now considered the invention of Mathematical Combinatorics. He was also known for his interest in memory and logical systems more generally: his method of linking virtues to physical objects is an example of the ancient memory technique known as the Memory Palace.

An overview of the Order of Chivalry, and a linked table of contents to all my blogs (with music) on various chapters of Llull’s book can be found here.

Llull’s The Order of Chivalry begins with a story — which I’ve lightly paraphrased from Old English into modern English (leaving some of the Old English flavor) from William Caxton’s 1484 translation of Llull’s original Catalan:

Once upon a time, there was a wise knight who had long upheld the Order of Chivalry, by the strength and nobility of his high courage and wisdom, and in risking his body had endured wars, jousts, and tournaments, and in many battles had had many noble and glorious victories. And in time he saw and thought in his heart that he might not long live, as he was for a long time and the course of nature near to his end. So he retired to become a hermit. For nature failed him in old age, and he no longer had the strength to use arms as he was accustomed. So he gave his inheritance and riches to his children, and made his habitation or dwelling place in a green wood, having abundant water and great and high trees,  bearing fruits of various types. And he fled the world because of the feebleness of his body in which he was fallen by old age, to not dishonor the honorable things and adventures with which he had for a long time been honored.

The same knight thought on death, remembering the departure from this world into the next, and also thinking of the right redoubtable sentence of our Lord to which he must come on the Day of Judgment.

In one part of the wood was a fair meadow, in which was a tree well-laden and full of fruit. And under the same tree was a fountain most fair and clear, that aroused and moistened all the meadow.

And in that same place was the knight accustomed to come every day to pray and adore God Almighty, to whom he gave thanks for the honor that had been done to him in this world all the days of his life.

 

In that time it happened at the beginning of a strong winter, that a king most noble, wise, and full of good customs, sent for many nobles to hold a great court.

And by the great renown that was of this court, it happened that a squire was moved to go there, his intention being that he should be made a knight.

Thus as he went all alone, riding upon his palfrey [a gentle horse, not a battle steed] it happened that for the fatigue that he sustained from riding, he fell asleep on his horse. While he was sleeping, his palfrey wandered from the path and entered into the forest where was the Hermit Knight.

And in time he arrived at the fountain at the same time that the Knight who dwelt in the wood to do his penance, came there to pray to God, and to despise the vanities of this world, as he was accustomed to do every day.

When he saw the Squire come, he left his prayer and sat in the meadow in the shadow of a tree, and began to read in a little book that he had in his lap. And when the horse came to the fountain he began to drink, and the squire that slept felt that his horse no longer moved and lightly awoke, and then to him came the Knight who was very old, with a great beard, long hair, and a feeble gown worn and broken from long wearing, and by the penance that he daily made was much discolored and lean; and by the tears that he had wept his eyes were hollow, and he had the regard or countenance of a very holy life.

Each of them marveled at the other; for the Knight, who had long been in his hermitage, had seen no man since he had left the world, and the Squire marveled how he was come to that place.

Then the Squire descended from his palfrey and saluted the Knight, and the Knight received him most graciously, and then they sat on the grass one by the other. And before either of them spoke, each of them beheld the other.

The Knight knowing that the Squire would not speak first, because he would do him courtesy, spoke first and said,

“Fair friend, what is your courage or intent? And where are you going? Why do you come here?” “Sire”, said he, “the renown is spread by far countries that a king, most wise and noble, has commanded a general court, and therefore I go to his court to be dubbed a knight. But when I was asleep, for the travail that I have had from the great journeys that I have made, my palfrey went out of the right way, and has brought me to this place.”

When the Knight heard mention of the Knighthood and Chivalry, and remembered the Order of the same, and of that which pertains to a knight, he cast out a great sigh and entered into a great thought, remembering the honor in which Chivalry had been long maintained.

In the meanwhile that the Knight thus thought, the Squire asked of him why he was so pensive.

And the Knight answered him,

“Here are some of my thoughts on the order of Knighthood or Chivalry, and of the greatness in which a knight is duty-bound to maintain the greatness of the honor of Chivalry. Then the Squire prayed to the Knight that he would explain to him the order and how men could better honor and reverence it, as it ought to be after the ordinance of God.”

“How, son,” said the Knight, “do you not know what is the rule and order of Knighthood? And I marvel how you dare demand Chivalry or Knighthood before you understand the Order; for no knight may not love the Order, nor that which appertains to his Order, unless he knows the faults that he might do against the Order of Chivalry. Nor can a knight make other knights, unless he himself knows the Order. For a disorderly knight is he that makes a knight, and cannot show the Order to him in the custom of Chivalry.”

In the meanwhile that the Knight said these words to the Squire who demanded Chivalry, without knowing what was Chivalry, the Squire answered and said to the Knight, “Sire, if it be your pleasure, I beseech you that you will say and explain to me the Order of Chivalry, for it seems to me that I should learn it because of the great desire I have for it, and
after my power I shall embrace it, if it please you to assign, show and teach it to me.”

“Friend,” said the Knight, “the Rule and Order of Chivalry is written in this little book that I hold here in my hands, in which I read and am busy sometimes, to the end that it makes me remember or think on the grace and bounty that God has given and done to me in this world because I honored and maintained with all my power the Order of Chivalry; for in the same way Chivalry gives to a knight all to which he aspires, in the same way a knight ought to give all his strength to honor Chivalry.”

Then the Knight gave to the Squire the little book.

And when he had read it, he understood that one knight only among a thousand persons is chosen worthy to have more noble of that little book the Rule and Order of Chivalry.

And then he remembered him a little, and after said, “Ah, sire, blessed are you that have brought me in place and time that I may have knowledge of Chivalry, which I have long time desired, before I knew the nobleness of the Order, or the honor in which our Lord God has set
all them that be in the Order of Chivalry.”

The Knight said, “Fair son, I am an old man and feeble, and may not live much longer, and therefore this little book, that is made for the devotion, loyalty and the ordinance that a knight ought to have in holding his Order, you shall bear with you to the Court to which you go, and to show to all of them that will be made knights.”

“And when you shall be a newly dubbed knight, and you return to your country, come again to this place, and let me have knowledge of those who have been obedient to the doctrine of Chivalry.”

Then the Knight gave to the Squire his blessing; and took leave of him, and took the book most devoutly, and then mounted upon his palfrey and went forth hastily to the Court. And when he arrived he presented the book most wisely and devotedly to the noble king, and furthermore, he offered that every noble man that would be in the order of Chivalry might have a copy of said book, to the end that he might see and learn the order of Knighthood and Chivalry.

Llull’s tale ends here, but let’s continue the Squire’s story anyway:

So the Squire was knighted “Sir Elfred.” And the years passed, and he grew in prowess and nobility, defending the kingdom, protecting widows and orphans, helping the needy with his largess, and rescuing ladies in distress. Indeed, he became one of the most honored knights in the kingdom for his courageous and selfless service to God, king, and country. He also went on a Grail Quest, returning with wondrous books for the castle library and an otherworldy cast to his countenance, yet he would not speak of his adventures. He was also a skillful musician on diverse instruments, pleasing the court with his musical depth of soul.

Alas, there came a battle in which Sir Elfred was blinded. In honor of his long and exemplary service, the king made him a court musician for life. To which Sir Elfred said, “Oh king, I am no longer able to protect the body of your kingdom with my bodily strength. So permit me to serve the soul of your kingdom with my art, with my music. Make me organist at your Grail Cathedral.” To which the king wholeheartedly consented.  So Sir Elfred gave his armor, steed, weapons, and copy of The Order of Chivalry to a young squire, took on the habit of a lowly monk, and dedicated himself to the Grail Cathedral, praying with his voice and also with his fingers on the organ. And every Lord’s day, in the evening as the sun was setting, the cathedral would fill with people who came from near and far to hear the monk’s organ music inspire them to all that was true, noble, right, pure, lovely, and admirable.

YouTube

The Book of the Order of Chivalry (c. 1275), was written by Ramon Llull (1232–1315), a polymath and Christian mystic from Majorca. Llull thought that knights should be chosen, trained, and ordained like priests. Llull’s book became a handbook of chivalry throughout much of Europe.

Until longbows and gunpowder came into widespread use in the 14th century, an armored knight was a formidable force on the battlefield. Something like a ‘tank’ in medieval warfare. So Llull thought that with this great power comes great responsibility.

It’s worth noting that — at least as far as I’m concerned — these metaphorical reflections on Chivalry have nothing to do with physical gender. As the eminent psychiatrist Carl Jung said, we all have animus (masculine) and anima (feminine) aspects in our psyches. (And, I have wondered if one of the reasons males have dominated physical combat throughout humanity’s history is because — in terms of the ongoing survival of the tribe — males are more expendable than females. Just a thought!)

Ramon Llull

Ramon Llull (1232–c.1315/16) was born to a wealthy family in Barcelona and became the chief administrator of the royal household there as well as a troubadour. However, in 1263 (aged 31), while writing a bawdy song for his lady-friend, “he looked to his right and saw our Lord Jesus Christ on the Cross, as if suspended in mid-air.” The vision occurred five times. Llull took the hint, sold all his possessions imitating Saint Francis of Assisi (c.1181 – 1226), and set out on pilgrimages to various holy shrines, never to return to his family and profession.

For the next nine years, he engaged in study and contemplation in relative solitude, reading extensively in Latin and Arabic and learning Christian and Muslim theological and philosophical thought. (Llull had the novel idea that one should “convert the Islamic indels” by learning the Arabic language, religion, and culture and persuading them, instead of at the point of a sword.) Over the remainder of his life, he wrote over 250 books on philosophy, and theology — and one on Chivalry.

He also invented a philosophical system known as the Art, conceived as a type of universal logic to prove the truth of Christian doctrine. The Art consists of a set of general principles and combinatorial operations — considered by some to be a precursor to the branch of mathematics known as Combinatorics. Some computer scientists have also adopted Llull as a founding father, claiming that his system of logic was the beginning of information science.

Posthumously, he was revered as a saint in Catalonia, elsewhere condemned as a heretic, but beatified by Pope Pius IX in 1847.

Why Does “Chivalry” Matter?

At the dawn of humanity, people banded together for mutual survival, prioritizing the well-being of the community because it was only together that they could survive. By him/herself, a person’s chances of survival were negligible, but in a tribe — vastly better. Through this cooperation — this recognition that “we’re all in this together” — civilization was born.

However, with the passage of time and the growth of affluence, we forget the necessity that once brought us together. Instead of nurturing the community that sustains us, many begin to look for ways to game the system, to take without giving, and to exploit without contributing. This erosion of virtue — the very thing that makes civilization possible —threatens the foundation on which society rests.

Chivalry, in its truest sense, is not just a relic of the past, but the living embodiment of the virtues that sustain civilization: truthfulness, courage, loyalty, keeping one’s word, and an understanding that “I am not the center of the universe”. These principles are not mere ideals, but absolute necessities for the survival and flourishing of any society. Without them, the fabric of our community unravels, and no law or authority can stop the ensuing descent into chaos.

The Order of Chivalry seeks to remind us of these essential truths. In a world where the pursuit of personal gain often scorns the common good, the values of chivalry serve as a beacon — a call to return to the virtues that once made our society strong. The virtues that make society and civilization possible at all. Chivalry is not merely about personal integrity; it is about the survival of civilization itself.

The Order of Chivalry

Reflections and Music by William Zeitler

1. The Hermit Knight and the Squire (Introductory Backstory)
2. Truth and the Knight’s Lance
3. Justice and the Knight’s Sword
4. Hope and the Knight’s Dagger
5. Courage and the Knight’s Mace
6. Humility and the Knight’s Helmet
7. Obedience and the Knight’s Collar
8. Endurance and the Knight’s Coat
9. Dignity and the Knight’s Shield
10. Courtesy and the Horse’s Bridle
11. Reason and the Horse’s Shaffron
12. Confidence and the Horse’s Saddle
13. Perseverance and the Knight’s Spurs