As horrific as war is, it can become exciting if, like the Crusaders fighting the Turks, we feel we are fighting evil. Jean de Valette and his knights were motivated by zeal to prevent the Ottoman Turks spreading across Europe.

In 1565, de Valette held back the Turks, and Pope Pius IV offered to make him a cardinal in recognition.

Elizabeth I ordered the Archbishop of Canterbury, head of the Anglican Church, to give a special thanksgiving service three times a week for six weeks.

War had held back evil.

The idea that evil can be defeated through war persists nowadays. The USA, in particular, has become involved in several conflicts against apparently evil regimes.

War often leaves more problems than it cures, however, as the ideology that started the problem persists in people’s minds and may be exacerbated by war.

Aside from physical warfare, internal battles against personal evils are accepted.

For example, military language is used to describe our relationship with cancer. Writing in The Guardian about her cancer, Kate Granger said she would curse anyone who said “she lost her brave fight”. We cannot, in reality, fight something beyond our control.

She is, of course, correct. However, we instinctively know that some kind of a battle is going on in cancer, even if we just form a mental picture of chemotherapy killing off aggressive mutant cells.

Putting aside the battleground analogy of how many organs invaded (enemy troop deployment), tumour burden (size of enemy forces) and remission (retreat of enemy), there are other internal battles a cancer patient fights: the fight against reliance on our body as it fails us; the fight against loss of autonomy of our time and choice of what happens to us; the fight against having to accept that we are reliant on others and of facing fear of pain and disability; and the fight against accepting that we do not have control over death.

This is where the battle of the cancer patient really lies, and winning this battle has nothing to do with living or dying.

It has to do with fighting the ‘demons’ of our pride and of our modern need for total control. Taking down the ‘idolatry’ of our will that tells us that, by it alone, we can prevail over any adversity or illness.

It has to do with accepting who we really are: fragile, vulnerable, dependent on others and not in control of our lives.

Mostly, it sounds like a total retreat on multiple battlefronts. However, it leads to a hidden internal victory.

The prize of winning this secret internal battle is to open a window onto the eternal spiritual world, which may be the most important victory of our lives.

J.R.R. Tolkien dramatised the hidden spiritual battle in The Lord of the Rings and his portrayal of Middle-earth, a place where war between the forces of good and evil is played out.

It reveals a world pervaded with darkness in which we all have specific roles. We all have much more important roles in this battle than we could imagine from looking at our day-to-day lives.

Life’s real hidden adventure is full of danger and we are called to bravery however overwhelming the odds seem.

Seemingly beautiful things (like the One Ring) can easily entice, but when we put them on we become enslaved to their owner. Unless we break his evil power, we may end up slaves forever.

What are the modern parallels of Tolkien’s One Ring, and, are we enslaved by them?

A look at what the cancer patient has to fight against tells us: pride is certainly one, exemplified by the beauty of the ring.

Our bodies – making them the main focus of our lives – is another, as is our wills, making them our total master – I want, I can, I do.

Those under the spell of these forces tend to find common cause with each other and become a fighting force against those who resist them.

Large portions of society can ‘lay siege’ on the bastions of tradition and conservatism, feeling that it is their duty to instil change by force.

The war is against internally held territories, but the effects of the war are externally visible to all.

This ‘third siege’, the most devastating and the most destructive but the most hidden, whose ruins will not be easily rebuilt, is well under way in Malta. It can only be effectively addressed if the presence of this inner battle is recognised.

Awareness of it can lead to insight into which side we are on, whether we are fighting or just watching, and give a new excitement to life.

Patrick Pullicino is a seminarian studying for the priesthood at St John’s Seminary in Wonersh, UK.