Of Heroes and Hobbits

About a week ago, I watched The Resistance Banker on Netflix. It is the story of ordinary people who wake up and discover a colossal evil – fascism – has infected their country. It is the story of those ordinary people finding their courage and very matter-of-factly doing what is right. I was struck by the beautiful normalcy of their heroism.

On Hobbits

There are some of us who want to be heroes. Like Aragorn, we know that “only through darkness shall [we] come to [what we desire];” like Henry V, “if it be a sin to covet honor/[we are] the most offending soul[s] alive.” And then there are the hobbits.

Many of us, though we like to hear stories of adventures, though we like to think we would be brave enough to go on one if given the chance, prefer the comforts of home to words like “duty” and “destiny.” With Falstaff, we ask, “What is honor? Who has it? He that died on Wednesday. Does he feel it? No. Does he hear it? No. Honor is a mere [pretense].” And often it is – but not always.

On Heroes

We are always hearing about heroes. We hear about the man who saved a woman from a mugging, or wrestled with the active shooter, or jumped down onto the subway tracks to help someone who’d fallen. We celebrate these acts, as well we should. They were acts of bravery.

But then we do something I don’t think we should do. We start talking about these people as if they were some higher breed of human. We put them on a pedestal because of their “extra-ordinary” courage. But is it extra-ordinary?

I submit to you that these acts are exactly what ordinary courage looks like. And I would submit to you that each and every one of us is called to develop that kind of courage.

Ordinary Courage

What is ordinary courage? It simply means that we don’t let our fear make us selfish. We don’t react to danger by forgetting about everyone else to take care of number one. Ordinary courage is love strong enough to override fear. It looks like people taking care of each other in moments of crisis, even at great personal risk. 

My last ROTC class before commissioning as a naval officer was Leadership and Ethics, taught by a former submarine captain. The final day of class we discussed the meaning of “special trust and confidence.” He told us this:

“When you take that oath, you’re not just another person anymore. You’re a naval officer. When you see a problem, you don’t get to be a bystander; you don’t get to stand by and watch bad things happen. Once you take that oath, you have a responsibility to do something about it, whether you’re in uniform or not.”

A New Standard

What if heroism were the standard? What if every day, we reminded ourselves that we have a responsibility to the people and community around us, that we don’t get to be bystanders? What if we went out our doors mentally prepared to fight for our neighbors when their lives were threatened by street crime or suicidal thoughts? What would the world look like?

You might think this isn’t relevant to you, that your world is calm and ordinary and doesn’t call for heroism. But the world isn’t as orderly and controlled as all that. Evil is at work in this world, and it isn’t slowing down. We cannot afford to hide behind the pretense that we weren’t cut out for courage. There are not heroes and hobbits in the world. There are only hobbits who have the chance to become heroes.

The only thing needed for evil to triumph is for good men to sit and do nothing. Perhaps our greatest foes are not greed and lust and cruelty. Perhaps they are apathy and laziness and irresponsibility. It’s time we put those aside. There is duty to heroism. It is not going above and beyond. It is the expectation. Will you take an oath to no longer be just another bystander? Will you be your brother’s keeper?

I am a military officer. I move toward the danger.

Will you join me?