Thomas Jefferson wrote it. Thousands of communities gathered this past weekend to read it, as we did in Jaffrey for the 26th year. And the entire country spent the Fourth of July celebrating the 250th anniversary of the Declaration of Independence, a document that marked the birth of the American experiment. There are 1,337 words in the Declaration, which was signed by 56 men from 13 colonies — who were able to work through their geographical, ideological, cultural, religious, and yes, their political differences to pledge “their lives, their fortunes, and their sacred honor.”
It was — and is — an extraordinary pledge, fraught with risk, filled with courage, and framed in hope. The last two words — “sacred honor” — stand out for me. “Sacred” suggests something precious, a mystery beyond self, something that can be recognized and needed but don’t own, a powerful yet ephemeral ingredient that lies beyond wealth and privilege.
The 56 signers were much honored by the general population. They had status and rank; they controlled assets of money and land. They had power. They received honor. They expected to be honored. But in the Declaration they pledged their honor — to each other, and to the country they were seeking to create.
Whenever I hear “honor,” I am immediately brought back to the hundreds of weddings I have performed over the years. In the middle of the ceremony, during the exchange of rings, the couple say these words to each other: “With all that I am, and all that I have, I honor you.” If and when I am asked to preach at weddings, I then focus on their pledge to honor one another. To honor you means I don’t own you. To honor you means I don’t try and make you into someone else. To honor you is to accept the wonder, the gift, the uniqueness, the challenge of who you are. I continue to share with the couple that in my experience it takes about 30 to 40 years to fully honor someone else. It is a lot of work.
Honoring one another these days is particularly hard to come by, particularly as America is led by a president whose currency is dishonor. He dishonors the law, dishonors history, dishonors global relationships that have taken decades to build as he continues to dishonor anyone and everyone who does not express their loyalty to the degree he requires; he dishonors the office of president itself by the grift and corruption.
His virus of dishonor can be contagious. It can spread to his allies and adversaries alike. The virus of dishonor creates an ecosystem in which distrust can often be a first reaction, and enmity, if not violence, can become the first response. It can generate even more dis-ease — be it spiritual, emotional, and even medical.
There is an antidote to this poisonous virus: honor.
These days honor is more necessary to embrace and even more urgent to demonstrate. To honor one another, which may not necessitate the intense commitment of a marriage partner, but still requires a pledge. A pledge of recognition that everyone — everyone — is bestowed with the blessing of divine Providence (a metaphor used in the last paragraph of the Declaration of Independence). That we all are imago Dei — created in the image of God.
To honor one another takes practice — and a lot of time. For some, especially those who have been dishonored repeatedly over their lifetimes, honoring one another may feel out of reach for the heart and mind. For others, who have been accorded automatic honor because of their race, gender, education, size and privilege (I have all those valued attributes — as does Donald Trump), the machinations of the culture can successfully seal us off from certain chambers of the heart, and can warp the mind to think that honor should be limited to those who fit certain categories.
We all need to engage in honoring one another. To go beyond the fifth commandment — “honor your father and mother” — to include your spouse, partner, children, neighbors, people who don’t look like you, don’t worship like you, don’t vote like you.
This gets even harder when it comes to Donald Trump. A growing number find it hard, if not impossible, to honor someone who is so consistently dishonorable, and who gleefully spreads the dishonor virus. What I am learning is that there is a need to make a distinction between honoring the person and the role the person plays. I tepidly honor Donald Trump as a fellow human being; it is a spiritual obligation for me. But I fiercely honor the presidency as a foundational ingredient of American democracy. Like many of us, I want to protect the concept of the presidency by calling out the endless cascade of abuse — and to do whatever I can to repair the POTUS role. It is urgent.
The times call for consistent and constant displays of honor. Our forefathers pledged it. We need to continue their legacy.
Mark Beckwith is a retired bishop of the Episcopal Diocese of Newark, N.J. He lives in Jaffrey. He can be followed on markbeckwith.net.
