I recently gave a tiny advice to a bunch of college students. Perhaps my arrogance is blinding me, but I liked what I said, especially the fact that I said it on the spot. So I'm going to expand on it on this post.
If you have been around me long enough, you have heard me quote the line above from Coriolanus by Shakespeare. Coriolanus has been a favorite Shakespearean play of mine for quite some time, and the line above is one that rings my heart. It is kind of like a motto I live by.
When Coriolanus says the line above, he is attempting to inspire the fear-stricken Roman army against the Volsces. I've seen a couple of productions and how they have portrayed this scene. I am saddened by how few have portrayed the scene accurately. The movie adaptation with Ralph Fiennes uses an exclamation: "Make you a sword of me!" It is an excellent adaptation, but I believe that the scene is not accurate to Shakespeare's intent.
The original version written by Shakespeare uses a question mark as quoted above. It is an offering from Coriolanus to be his soldiers' sword. To those who are too cowardly to get the job done, he offers himself as a sword, a source of their courage, a weapon with which they can fight their fears.
Like Coriolanus offered himself as a sword to his soldiers, I think all of us should be able to offer ourselves to be swords for others who are mired in problems of all sorts. If there is a person too fearful to reach to the heights one ought to reach for, it is admirable to offer oneself as a sword, a source of courage for that person. If there is a person suffering, a person of virtue would reach out to that person, offering oneself as a weapon by which the one suffering can cut down the pains and the demons that haunt. To do these things is to display the virtue of charity.
If more of us could display charity, wouldn't there be less people trapped in constant sorrow? If there are more swords to be used in battle against the evils and the sufferings of this world, wouldn't this world be a better place? I have seen people toiling in pain with no one to help them. With no one to empathize with them and understand them, they would feel all alone in this world. With no one to fight their battles with, they would tread further into the darkness. Finally, they will say that this world is too cold to live and contemplate suicide. I have seen too many of these people. If someone in their lives had enough charity and courage to reach out to them, their lives would have been much brighter. If someone in their lives had made a sword of themselves, the sufferings would have been less.
To be charitable or to love in such a way is closely intertwined with courage. In some sense, we see the most of the divine in love and courage. To truly love is to risk immeasurable pain. Only in risking this pain do we truly love. As Christians believe, the foreknowledge of Christ shows just how true his love is. He knew of the immense pain He was to suffer, but He offered Himself up as a sacrifice nonetheless. For God so loved the world he dived into pain and suffering.
Like how Christ was battered by those he loved, to be charitable is to risk hurt. To offer ourselves as a sword for others to fight with as an act of charity is also risk hurt. Our edges are expected to be dulled, and our shiny gleam is expected to be stolen by dirt and blood.
When you offer counsel to those who hurt, that person might not be responsive to you; a hand reached out in friendship could be denied. In fact, that person might end up scorning you. That person might even lie to you and betray you. A boy who said that he was not going to smoke again would smoke a week later. Another boy who said that he was going to moderate alcohol would get drunk that very night. A girl who said that she was not ready to date due to her problems would go on a date with a stranger a couple weeks later. Another girl who said that she would not drink to solve her problems would wake up with no memory of the past night three days later.
Many who have not listened to you would not suffer grave consequences. But some would end up suffering a great deal more from not listening to you. Need I say more? In each of these cases, the one who offered oneself as a sword would feel pain. To see these people the sword has chosen to love fail so miserably would be heartbreaking. If this occurs repeatedly, the sword would feel tired and alone, dulled and battered.
The tragedy of Coriolanus begins with this sort of tiredness and loneliness. To Romans, Coriolanus' skill as a warrior puts him above all others like god among men. Perhaps he began his career with a charitable mind. But the character presented is a beaten down man who resorted to pride and anger to compensate for the lack of recognition from the Roman people. For this reason, the Roman plebes banish him. He ultimately turns against Rome, invading it by commanding the Volsces, in his vengeance.
I suppose this is the lesson Shakespeare is trying to tell. The tragic flaw of Coriolanus is that he was not godly. In offering himself as a sword, he expected others to bow before him, recognizing the fact that he is superior over others and how he alone is the one holding Rome against her enemies. If you offer yourself as a sword, say to yourself: "I shall not want." Love is freely given. Be it recognition of virtue or love, want not in return from those to whom you offered yourself.
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