Does Christianity Make Believers into Bugmen?
To Answer, We Have to Get at the Real Meaning of Meekness
“Blessed are the meek: for they shall inherit the earth.” - Jesus of Nazareth (Matthew 5:5)
In the year of our Lord 2022, the word meekness has become so hopelessly lost to confusion that one is tempted to give up on it completely.
The trouble is that some (or most) have taken the term to be a near-synonym for weakness. I suppose the rhyme of meekness and weakness doesn’t help. Turn to most contemporary dictionaries and you’ll likely see a lame definition, something like “the fact or condition of being quiet, gentle, and easily imposed on; submissiveness” (New Oxford American Dictionary) or “the quality of being quiet, gentle, and unwilling to argue or express your opinions” (Cambridge Dictionary). Those who are easily imposed upon are that way usually because they are weak. In that sense, the term is almost pure pejorative, at least to modern ears. The meek man is a pushover.
Which should prompt us to ask an awkward question: Does Christianity teach us to be lame or make believers into bugman?
Others will heroically swoop in to defend meekness, contending that it has nothing to do with bugmanhood. Quite the opposite—it actually refers to a martial concept. The Greek word praus—translated as meek in the Sermon on the Mount and elsewhere—referred also to a trained warhorse. Or so they claim. Far from a pejorative, the trained warhorse is a majestic creature with remarkable strength, but one that has been trained to respond to his master’s command, rather than various provocations and fears. It is strength under control.
Much as I love warhorse imagery and want this to have been Jesus of Nazareth’s intention, such a reading is contested. Beyond a number of interesting blog posts advancing the meek-like-a-warhorse argument, I’ve had trouble finding anything more authoritative. Scholars of Greek I’ve consulted have offered differing answers. Nietzsche, who famously derided Christianity’s elevation of meekness, calling it the teaching of a slave morality, was a trained philologist. Would he not have understood the significance of praus? Seems unlikely.
When in doubt on such matters we should turn to the voice of the Christian tradition at its peak: Thomas Aquinas. He offers an answer that doesn’t quite confirm warhorse imagery but does suggest a similar idea.
According to Aquinas, meekness (Latin: mansuetude) “restrains the onslaught of anger” and “properly mitigates the passion of anger.” Though anger sometimes gets a bad name—and though it can serve as a warranted and required response to real injustice—anger nevertheless cannot be allowed to govern our conduct. Left to itself, anger is too easily set off and too easily leads us astray. It needs governing. And that is the purpose of meekness: restraining anger so that good judgment can be exercised.
So when Jesus Christ proclaims, “Blessed are the meek: for they shall inherit the earth,” he clearly isn’t telling you to be an “easily imposed upon” pushover who is “unwilling to argue or express his opinions.” Easily imposed upon pushovers don’t scourge the Temple of the filthy money-changers. The meek, according to Msgr Pope “are those who have authority over their anger, who can command and control its power, moderating and directing its energy to good rather than destructive ends.”
Nor is meekness the apex of all virtues. Contrary to the probably well-meaning Christian bugman among us who reduce all of Christian ethical teaching to meekness and niceness, Aquinas clearly states that meekness is not a supreme or perfect virtue—because it merely helps us to avoid evil rather than achieve good. Faith, hope, charity, prudence, justice, and so on—these virtues direct one to good and thus rank higher than meekness. Meekness is crucial to the good life, Aquinas says, but it is not the be-all, end-all of the Christian life.
In closing, we might turn the question around on the Nietzscheans. Is control over one’s anger not a prerequisite of manliness? In condemning Christian meekness as Aquinas articulates it, they seem to suggest that strength requires lashing out whenever provocation strikes. Give anger free rein. But is the easily provoked man actually strong, or is he weak, ineffectual, almost pathetic? Any halfway skilled operator can manipulate a man without the ability to govern his anger, spurring him to lash out and expend himself over trifles.
If they agree that anger needs governing—which is the only sensible position to take—then they are on the same page as Aquinas. “For anger,” as Aquinas says, “which is mitigated by meekness, is, on account of its impetuousness, a very great obstacle to man’s free judgment of truth: wherefore meekness above all makes a man self-possessed.” Self-possession is necessary, and this again is the purpose of meekness.
"In closing, we might turn the question around on the Nietzscheans. Is control over one’s anger not a prerequisite of manliness? In condemning Christian meekness as Aquinas articulates it, they seem to suggest that strength requires lashing out whenever provocation strikes."
Is this fair? The Nietzscheans are not "condemning Christian meekness as Aquinas articulates it," they are criticizing the behavior of men today that self-identify as Christians. Such men are generally, to use your words, “easily imposed upon.” It is the Catholic that needs to know the work of Aquinas and behave accordingly.
Constant appeals to prudence betray a lack of ability to confront fear, uncertainty, and intimidation. Such justifications might soothe ones conscience after a failure to act, but every outsider sees a man that is all hat and no cattle.
You must pay a man in his currency, not in yours. For Nietzscheans it is strength. The good news, as you seem to understand well, is that strength is in no way incompatible with the Catholic life.
Really enjoyed this analysis - I wish churches were clearer on this point.