Honor

A few years ago a friend asked if I could define honor.  I gave it a good deal of thought then, and address the topic again here after a bit more consideration…

It’s easy to start with a basic definition—“personal integrity”—from one dictionary or another.  It isn’t easy, however, to then define integrity.  With my students I tackle these abstract notions with a T-chart and a discussion of what honor or integrity would look or sound like. It makes it more concrete:  What does honor look like?  What does it sound like?  Applications are always fun.

A classic definition of honor would come from the chivalric codes of the Middle Ages.  That being said, only those who were from the upper classes were expected to have honor or even be able to attain it.  This is why some of the characters from the tales of Robin Hood, for example, (and the stories themselves) were so popular with common people, but still the hero is of noble birth—Robin of Locksley was the son of a Saxon lord in most stories.  With the advent of the American democracy, however, and our quest to establish the rights and responsibilities of the individual, comes the idea that all men/people are not only created equal but that they should also be honorable.

It is difficult to define a notion such as this when it is so easy to pick out examples of what is dishonorable among even the "best" people.  When our national leaders—political, religious, sports and entertainment stars—are found to be the foulest of criminals and lechers, most people, young people in particular, are apt to say that there is no honor in this country or in humanity.  Trying to define it is one thing, and instilling a sense of it in high school or college age people is daunting!

But the definition. . . mine, at least:

Honor is of the individual.  It can not be a group virtue.  A group of honorable people is a wonderful and powerful thing, but history has always shown these groups to be only as strong as the individual honor of its members.   Honor is honesty, bravery, trustworthiness—recite the Boy Scout oath.  An honorable person has a conscience and understands the many different manifestations of Good and Evil and chooses always to be a champion of the Good, a model of what is Right, even when no one but he/she knows of his/her choice.  It's as simple as driving the speed limit or waiting on a traffic light to turn green at four in the morning in a town with only one light.  The hard tests are easier to understand:  Refusing to "help" a buddy on a test.  Telling the underage friend that he/she will have to settle for a Coke when the keg is sitting right there.  Giving your life for a Good cause, whatever it might be.  These are in the “what does it look like?” category.

I think it might be easier for parents to understand the essence of the definition by just thinking of their children.  What kind of men and women do we want them to be?  What kind of models do we hope we have been for them?  At the same time, for us parens, it is also easier to go the other direction: are we the kind of people our parents hoped we would be?

It’s popular to sport bumper stickers asking, "What would ___________ do?"  Insert Jesus, Buddha, Mohammed, Gandhi, Martin Luther King, Jr., etc.  To apply this to the definition of honor, think about what makes those people role models.  What makes them honorable?

The kicker: if you model your life after an honorable person, “so what?”  What difference will this make.  Look how most of them ended up.

That’s the personal aspect of true honor again, though.  I don’t think an honorable person is honorable or does honorable things to impress others.  They do these things simply because it is honorable to do them.

It will be interesting to see (if I’m around that long) who among our current famous folk will be considered to have been models of integrity.  My guess is that most people will look closer to home for their role models…somewhere among the average people who steadfastly go about their daily lives, not thinking about impacting a state or nation or world but simply seeing that those they care about are safe and loved, doing the right thing because it is the right thing to do.  Imagine what a nation of people like that could be for the world….

Call of the Wild

I like wolves. They’re sophisticated pack animals with a complex society. They take care of one another—the old are respected and supplied with their needs when they can no longer hunt for themselves. The old teach the young the survival skills they will need and, when the pack has overextended its range, they help the young find new territories and establish themselves. Occasionally the old pack and the new run into one another. Their late night songfests fill the forests with ancient music—the call of the wild.


I like to think that my affinity for canis lupus goes even further and I share an animistic association with this ubiquitous, worldly predator. I would love to have that kind of connection to the natural world. It’s probably a reason I like some science fantasy and shamanistic religions. I’m not a fan of lycanthropy, however. The contortions of the werewolf are different from the more spiritual transformations, which are not cruel shape-changing but a sharing of essence, a sort of higher order connection with the natural world. Of course, that is an example of the human egoism that places the human “animal” on a higher plane than the other beasts. Animism also assumes a spiritual consciousness in the non-human animals. It’s all a complicated philosophy. If you don’t think about it too much as a religious practice, though, and merely a blending of spirits, what fantastic mental meanderings can occupy a fertile imagination!

I used to sit for hours in the woods of the river bluffs around my home and look out over the river valleys. I would imagine myself loping easily along in an effortless gait, aware of everything around me. I hear the red tail hawk floating high above as he adjusts each feather in the wind. A vole is digging furtively just beneath the surface, making his blind way through the roots of the tall grasses. My belly is full, so I don’t stop at the spasmodic hammering of the rabbit’s heart as he cowers in the brush nearby. The sun is warm. The world is mine, and I am the world’s. With involuntary joy I lift my head and sing.

It’s imagining a better world, too. The wolf’s territory is never more than can sustain the pack, and the size of the pack is adjusted to the territory and what it can sustain, changing with the foibles of nature: weather, disease, age, available game. There is no waste. Or war. Or wantonness. Even the struggle for life is peace. Some people don’t understand or have a real appreciation for the world of tooth and claw. It’s egoism again, I think. We feel more sophisticated than my shadowy gray friends because we don’t pull down our enemies with our jaws fastened around their throats. On the other hand, wolves and the other animals don’t have enemies—there is only hunter and prey—except for man.

Philosophy again. This old wolf would rather just keep it simple. Breathe deep. Listen closely. Feel the warm hope of the sun, or the life in the rain, or the cold peace of wind and snow, and the comfort of home and the “pack”…and sometimes, when the moon is full, just step outside and howl!