Honor In a Dishonorable Age
“Honor the Emperor."
The language is jarring, pulled from another time and place, like the clacking of a horse’s hooves on cobblestone streets. Peter’s words (1 Peter 2:17) are even more anachronistic to American ears, especially in the 21st century. We have never had an emperor and we live in a dishonorable age.
Peter’s admonition made some sense to his readers. They were aware of the Emperor (Nero, in this case), and the honor that was expected. Most exercised no direct political influence, and would never come close to the emperor, but they would run into his acolytes in various shapes and forms.
Peter couches his appeal in a broader context of submission to authority, both because God had “sent” these authorities and to “put to silence the ignorance of foolish people.” The first point, I think, is vital. Honor is expected as a recognition of God’s sovereignty. The second point was also critical for Peter’s audience. Following the law and honoring those in authority was one way to undercut any conception that Christianity was inherently a threat to the political order. Whatever the conflict between Christian beliefs and the regime—and there were many—was minimized by these twin expectations of submission and honor. If Christians were going to revolutionize politics, at least along biblical lines, they would do so within boundaries.
One other thing is worth noting. Peter’s words bear a striking resemblance to Paul’s in Rom. 13. Paul was writing to believers in the belly of the imperial beast, yet his message was the same. Put together, the implication I think is clear. Respect and honor were expected not because the person in charge was honorable, but because God has put them there. They carry God’s stamp, even if they do so feebly and corruptly. After all, Nero was not honorable in any normal sense.
If we broaden our scope a bit, neither was Pilate, the man most responsible for Christ’s crucifixion. He willingly followed the crowd’s demand to release a hardened criminal instead of God’s perfect and only son. Christ, even at that moment, never undermines Pilate’s authority. He honors Pilate as God’s chosen instrument when he says, “You would have no authority over me at all unless it had been given to you from above.” (Jn. 19:11)
To put it plainly, dishonorable leaders, by any standard definition, are still due an amount of honor.
Dear readers, this is where I struggle the most. I generally follow the law. I pray for my leaders. But this notion of honoring, even the dishonorable, cuts to my sinful heart. I am, in this way, thoroughly American.
I struggle mightily to honor my leaders across the spectrum. President Donald Trump is the biggest challenge. I can try to finesse this into something manageable, like, “I can honor the presidency, but not the president,” or “I will honor him when he deserves it,” or “how can I honor someone so obviously unfit for office?”
Those are all rationalizations. Donald Trump deserves my honor because he is the authority God has placed over me. Nothing else really needs to be said.
This honor, if we take the original meaning, is more than a mental state. It is also a physical outworking of that mental state. Honor is something to think and feel, but also a way to behave. It is a posture. It should impact the way I speak about President Trump, how I post online about him, and how I engage others regarding him.
This is where I want to throw up my hands and say, “Impossible!”
Yes, for me, perhaps. The divine must eclipse my fallenness. My sinful disposition must give way to God’s work in and through me. An example might help.
Honor does not demand agreement. Neither does it suppress the truth. It also must fall well short of idolatry. The case of Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego highights the tension. As we read in Daniel 3, the young Jews were commanded to kneel before Nebuchadnezzar’s golden statue. Relying on God’s commandments, they refused but maintained their dignity and the King’s honor even as they did so. “…be it known to you, O, King, that we will not serve your gods or worship the golden image that you have set up.”
God chooses to deliver the young men, but, regardless, imagine the witness. They held together, all at once, these seemingly conflicting demands of honor, truth, and perspective. This is the standard—and one I routinely fail to achieve.
Also, this is deeply counter-cultural within the American context. We have never had a politics built around “honor.” We have had respected and revered political figures, but, with the possible exception of Washington, most of them were divisive in their day, often reviled by large portions of the country. Jefferson, Lincoln, pick your Roosevelt, or Reagan all inspired stiff opposition, including attempted or successful assassinations. A democratic republic courts some level of discord, and politics will always be sharp.
But unlike the past, or at least my understanding of it, dishonor today is a kind of currency. The online world rewards disrespect, spite, anger, and ridicule. Entire brands and fortunes are built on ressentiment, to use Nietzsche’s word, a rage that seeks to destroy the opposition.
It is difficult to imagine much upside to a politics built on honor and respect, but I hope I am wrong. Peter and Paul were not admonishing us, however, based on political upside. Like loving your enemies, honor and respect are counter-cultural ways of living, social fingers that point a fallen, broken world toward God’s glory. The temptation to build the kingdoms of earth on disrespect and dishonor is strong, but it should always be resisted. God’s kingdom should draw our gaze and be glimpsed in our efforts.