Throughout the history of our species, we have retained a concept both notable and curious: honor. We believe that those who have honor keep their promises, hold fast to their principles, and stand assuredly upon the beliefs that guide their lives. We call them faithful, loyal, and reliable. We trust them because they are honorable. And each day, they die. They die after dedicating their lives to preserving the lives of others by putting themselves in harm’s way. They die when times grow difficult enough that survival becomes more important than honor, only to be replaced by someone who exists and no longer knows why.
Those with honor are transient, drowning in the waters of a harsh and constant reality. They pay a high price for the precious gift of goodness that they willingly give to others. But they are immortal, too. A person of honor lives on through those many moments in which the world was improved one iota by their actions, through the memories of those who witnessed those actions.
Sometimes, honor can even redeem those actions of ours that bring evil into the world. We can choose to feed the starving with the bread we stole for ourselves if we but lose our fear of physical death, realize that only with honor does one truly live, and refuse with every ounce of our being to do anything other than truly live. I would rather die with honor than exist without it in that pale shadow of living that accompanies those who know not why they live.