Doing Theology,  No. 16 December 2006

A bi-monthly theological reflection from the
School of Ministry of the Episcopal Diocese of North Carolina

The words we choose

It was hardly surprising that sooner or later “hunger,” a word we thought we understood fairly well, would be replaced, and recently the U.S. Department of Agriculture provided the service: People who are hungry are actually experiencing “very low food security.” Judging by the lines that form at soup kitchens around the nation (an average of 332 people are fed a hot meal at Greensboro Urban Ministry daily), there are a lot of very low food security people around.

We’ve seen this phenomenon before. Innocent civilians killed in wartime are “collateral damage.” Phrases such as these make something painful for us to contemplate less so.

But that’s not the only way we play with words. We also redefine what words mean, so that eventually they are so vague or flexible that the words themselves become meaningless. How do we understand “progress” and “victory” in Iraq these days? The church has been good at this practice too. Consider how we use such words as “orthodox” and “tradition” nowadays. They’ve taken on intriguingly varied meanings in our current controversies.

But there’s something quite fascinating about the words we choose. Charlie Price, that wonderful teacher (whose imprint has enriched our Book of Common Prayer) enjoyed delving into word origins in his liturgy classes at Virginia seminary. Having grown up in the generation when “pneumatic” tires replaced sliced bread as the human accomplishment of note, I was intrigued when he introduced us to “pneumatology,” the study of the doctrine of the Holy Spirit. “Breath,” that’s the Greek origin of the word – whether filling tires or conveying the spirit.

Phrases that obscure and words that mean all sorts of things reflect that great gift of the human imagination. Maybe we shouldn’t be too bothered by the odd places our imaginations take us – whether with suspect motives or not. But for me that tolerance of what seem on the surface to be abuses of our language needs to be tested against what we, as people of faith, seek to proclaim. Do we obscure the Good News by what we say and how we say it, especially at this season of “coming” in our new church year, culminating in “Christ’s Mass”?

The answer to that question is, perhaps oddly, not found by declaring the antonym of “obscure” to be “clarity.” “God-talk” expressed in concrete terms emerging from our preoccupation with the human ability to reason limits us. When, in a couple of weeks, we hear the Christmas collect, “O God, you have caused this holy night to shine with the brightness of the true Light,” and in it affirm that we “have known the mystery of that Light on earth,” the wonder of the words we use will, I pray, come to us again.

Yours faithfully,
Leon Spencer