The Parable of the Mace
Probably the oldest weapons known to man (once you get past the fist, the foot, and the teeth) are the rock and the stick. No one, save God, knows for sure which came first. But you take a rock and put it on the end of a stick, and you have a MACE.
As most of you know (if you’ve been awake at all for the past several years), I collect weapons and armor. (I also teach classes on weaponry, including next weekend, August 25th and 26th, at the Utah Valley Renaissance Faire at Thanksgiving Point in Lehi, Utah—shameless plug, I know, but come on out! I sing songs, I tell tales, I pass out all the weapons in my arsenal to the audience and teach how those deadly beauties were used historically. You will get to handle scores of sharp, pointy, and otherwise lethal treasures. In short, good times will be had by all! But I digress, as I so often do…) One of my treasures (yesss, preshusssss) is a lovely, historically accurate, extremely lethal replica of the River Thames Mace. Now, the River Thames Mace gets its name from the fact that the original was found along the banks of… YOU GUESSED IT! …the Mississippi River. (And if you believe that, let me tell you about a lovely bridge for sale in Brooklyn…) The original River Thames Mace was discovered along the banks of the River Thames (which Cindy and I got to cruise back in July!) and dates to approximately 1100 A.D. (“A.D.”, for the painfully ignorant or those who are simply victims of a politically correct educational system, stands for “Anno Domini,” or for the Latin-challenged, “In the year of our Lord”, meaning somewhere, give or take a decade, around 1100 years after the birth of Jesus Christ.) The mace (and I bet you thought I’d never get back around to the subject at hand), is a flanged mace. That means, rather than simple metal ball at the end of the stick, you have a head with heavy metal flanges.
Here’s a picture of this wicked beauty:
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It weighs about 2 lbs. and is just over 2 feet long. And it is frighteningly effective. The flanges make the head of the mace lighter (as compared to a solid steel ball of the same approximate size) so you swing it faster. The flanges also make the weapon far more lethal. They allow you to concentrate all the force of the blow at one or two points of impact, easily crushing a helm or a breastplate (and the skull or chest beneath). In other words, it is nasty, efficiently deadly weapon.
Here’s a close-up view of the head:
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I want you to examine this picture closely. (Trust me—I have a point. Although some would say my hair covers my only real point…) The flanges and the half-sphere at the left end of the head are forged as a single, solid piece of steel. Then comes a gap (where you can see a bit of the exposed wooden shaft of the handle in between the flanges). Then comes a longer hollow cylinder of steel which goes around the wooden shaft. The flanges are welded onto the cylinder near the halfway point.
Now here’s the FUN part! (And he’ll have fun, fun, fun till his mommy takes his weapon away…) The River Thames Mace is an historical MYSTERY! And I LOVE historical mysteries!
You see, the flanges are WELDED onto the cylinder. Today, the weaponsmiths who make this lovely instrument of death use butane torches (or some other modern method of welding) to attach the flanges to the cylinder. But in the 11th century, butane welding torches did not exist! I have enquired diligently among the blacksmiths and weaponsmiths whom I meet at Renaissance faires and I have learned that the only welding techniques KNOWN to be in use in the 11th century both involved super-heating the steel components over a coal or coke fire (stoked with a bellows) and then hammering the red-hot steel pieces together, thus creating a weld. The problem is, you cannot hammer the red-hot flanges onto the cylinder without DEFORMING them. (They wouldn’t stay straight once you start beating them with a hammer.) In other words, the ancient, long-dead smiths used a welding technology that is LOST to history. WE DON’T KNOW HOW THEY DID IT!!!
And I take great comfort in the fact that we don’t know how they did it. I am reassured to know that there are still enigmas out there, there are still things we don’t know, there still things to learn. When you think you have all the answers, the world isn’t a very fun place anymore. (I know this from experience, because once upon a time, a very long ago, I was a TEENAGER…)
I LOVE going to Disneyland. I love the familiarity, the magic, the nostalgia. When I find out they have closed an older attraction to replace it with a new attraction, I am profoundly saddened. (They better not EVER remove Snow White’s Wishing Well or the Sleeping Beauty walk-through diorama inside Sleeping Beauty’s Castle. DON’T EVEN THINK ABOUT IT, DISNEY!) But having said that, I also exult in discovering and experiencing the newest creations of the Disney Imagineers. I love the Disney method of immersive storytelling. When we visit Disney’s California Adventure, we are likely to go on the Voyage of the Little Mermaid SEVERAL times each day (and surprisingly, nobody seems to object to this). That one never gets old (and there is almost always some new magical detail to discover). So, while I revel in enchanted nostalgia, I still find joy in the new magic. (The new Guardians of the Galaxy ride better be AMAZING, because I LOVED the Twilight Zone Tower of Terror!)
The study of history is a voyage of discovery. On our recent trip to Scotland, Cindy and I went to the memorial and museum at the site of the Battle of Bannockburn. I love telling the story of that battle in my weapons classes. It’s a great story. But now, I will be telling that story a little differently, because I LEARNED something NEW! I also found out that some of the details in my story (as I told it) were WRONG. So, I’ll be fixing those and adding in new details of courage and honor—on the side of the ENEMY. So, now the story will be BETTER! (And—be ye warned—a wee bit longer…)
Science (like history) is also a voyage of discovery. Science is all about asking questions and seeking answers. When you stop asking questions, when you think you know all the answers, when you teach a theory as if it were a proven fact, when you proclaim, “The science is settled!”, you are no longer in the realm of science—you have crossed over the border into the realm of religion. What is proclaimed as “science” becomes dogma that cannot be challenged.
It should come to nobody as a surprise that I am a man of faith. (I am an IMPERFECT man of faith, striving to live according to what I believe… and often failing.) I believe and testify of Jesus Christ and His Atonement. I boldly proclaim the doctrines of agency and accountability, of repentance and redemption, of salvation and eternal progression and exaltation. But even in the sacred realm of faith, I don’t DEMAND others believe and adhere just because I believe and because “God said so.” I invite others to investigate, to ask questions, to seek answers, to ask for and receive spiritual confirmation of eternal truths.
I do believe in ABSOLUTE TRUTH. I don’t believe for one microsecond that Schrodinger’s Cat is both alive and dead at the same time. But I also know that I DON’T KNOW EVERYTHING. And that comforts me and enables me to love and be friendly and civil to people who disagree with me, even on things that are VERY IMPORTANT, even on absolute truths. Even when I know I’m right.
Someday, perhaps, someone will discover how the ancient weaponsmiths made the River Thames Mace. That mystery will then be solved. And that will be VERY cool.
But there will still be mysteries in the world. And I thank Heaven for that.
