Religious traditions must at their core encompass the virtues of knighthood. Virtue and law rest upon a foundation of protective honour codes, mutually agreed systems drawn from combat-law. These values (status-reward for courage and the virtue-based rules of chivalry) are the framework of social hierarchy itself. If discarded for sentimental politics or humanitarianism, then the moral institution, the framework of everything, becomes corrupt. It gives birth to a dark and feeble victim-beast, strong only by rote of sheer numbers, like a locust-cloud of narcissists and angry self-pitiers.
The penultimate sacral rule is the promotion of valor – as the only answer to struggles of darkness within a religion or central tribal framework. Also the only answer to struggles within the self. Valor to uphold the sacred order of the hidden world, to obey priestly masters, to promote above all the importance of honour.
Today this knighthood aspect of religious tradition has been weakened and discarded. In its absence these religions are pointless, nurseries for the weak and morbid to alleviate petty mortality fears. And nothing more.
The high priest of a religious tradition must be as a feudal lord over his sacred order, the virtue of this order dissipates when the profane is allowed to infiltrate in the name of peace or love or other simpering plea. It is the knight’s duty to guard the door against these flower-merchants, to uphold the worship of the hidden world, and the chivalric code, unto death. To protect their sacred order, and even promote it, amongst the profane and wicked. The lord of this order is the intermediary between the gods and mortals, and his honour and intent are known by the resoluteness of his laws and willingness to sacrifice before the higher code.
A religious tradition without a priestly patriarch loses sight of honour codes and becomes the nursery. A cradling mockery of sweet and false promises; a corruption which is weak and hypocritical and forgets the flame of creation. Nothing good will come of their mortal swaddling and endless capitulating crocodile-tears.
I feel awe of the gods, I love, I revere, I venerate them, and in short have precisely the same feelings towards them as one would have towards kind masters or teachers or fathers or guardians or any beings of that sort.
– Emperor Julian