The Blademaster

The following is taken from Teddy Roosevelt's Speech before the Hamilton Club, Chicago, April 10, 1899. I quote it directly for its insight and impact: “This is the tale of making a good sword, a really good one like the blademakers to the samurai made them. Damascus steel was folded a thousand times by hand and finished only with a stone-never shaped by other steel. The steel is purified by plunging it again and again into the fire-and not just any fire but the fire produced by bellows that others are pumping continually to get hot enough to melt the imperfect steel. The blade that is beginning to form is allowed to almost cool, and then it is hammered and re-plunged into the fire, over and over, and over again. Each time it comes out it is examined by the Master Craftsman to see if there is any flaw, any imperfection at all. “Each blade is thought to have a spirit of it's own and some believe that the metal tells the Blademaster when it is finished, only he knows what this particular blade will be for. Once or twice in the master's entire career comes the chance to shape metal that has a truly great soul residing in it. When that happens the Blademaster stops work and goes and purifies himself and then comes back to the work that he will not cease doing until the blade is finished-he will not eat or sleep and will drink water only. He takes up the steel again and listens to it's heart and begins again, heat... cool some and hammer, fold and heat... again and again. When the blade has been folded a thousand times or more and it speaks to him that it is done-only then does he rest. For only the soul inside the steel can say when it has been shaped enough. But the blade is still not finished. “A handle needs to be fitted so that the weapon-which now has become a work of art- can be wielded. Before the handle is set onto the blade though, the Blademaster sets his own secret emblem on the handle where it will remain hidden for all time, the handle is then wrapped and the tsuba, the guard that keeps your hand from slipping onto the blade but is more than just that is fitted. The tsuba also balances the blade and communicates the tastes and beliefs of the owner. But the blade is still not finished. For this is a weapon with a soul, one that comes singing out of it's scabbard and will not return to it without tasting battle. The Blademaster now starts to hone the blade but he does not use steel-for to abrade so great a soul against another would diminish both. He does it all by hand, and he uses a stone... a rock. Carefully he wets the stone and draws the blade across it-one way only, with the grain of the soul... again and again... sometimes for weeks while all other pursuits are abandoned he concentrates all he has on that one edge, making it sharper that any other edge. “During this process the soul of the sword tells the maker to whom it belongs, and the Blademaster gives the masterpiece he has created to that and only that person. Never anything so crass as for a fee to be paid- the gift of the blade is the most precious thing that can be given to a warrior... a person who is both a soldier and philosopher in one. The house that the warrior belongs to will bless the Blademaster with all that it has for the gift of the honor of housing so great a blade...and when the warrior dies or grows old-the sword goes back to the Master who made it and no one else.” For now we see in a mirror dimly, but then face to face. Now I know in part; then I shall know fully, even as I have been fully known. (1 Corinthians 13:12 ESV). I am convinced that we all have the opportunity to become a great blade for the Master; only you can say when you have been shaped enough and have reached the point where you feel you are finished. God will use you there, make no mistake about that. No one ever said this life thing was easy. You have the opportunity to be of great value to the Master if you let him shape you. And, as the house that receives the blade is greatly honored and blessed, so too will you bless the house you come to. Roosevelt went on to say: “Far better it is to dare mighty things, to win glorious triumphs, even though checkered by failure, than to take rank with those poor spirits who neither enjoy much nor suffer much, because they live in the gray twilight that knows not victory nor defeat. It is not the critic who counts, not the man who points out how the strong man stumbled, or where the doer of deeds could have done them better. The credit belongs to the man who is actually in the arena; whose face is marred by dust and sweat and blood; who strives valiantly; who errs and comes short again and again; who knows the great enthusiasms, the great devotions, and spends himself in a worthy cause; who, at the best, knows in the end the triumph of high achievement; and who, at worst, if he fails, at least fails while daring greatly, so that his place shall never be with those cold and timid souls who know neither victory nor defeat".