“Now the whole world had one
language and a common speech. As the people moved
eastward, they found a plain in Shinar and settled there. They said
to each other, “Come, let’s make bricks and bake them thoroughly.” They used
brick instead of stone, and tar for mortar. Then they
said, “Come, let us build ourselves a city, with a tower that reaches to the
heavens, so that we may make a name for ourselves and be famous; otherwise we
will be scattered over the face of the whole earth and be nothing.”
God came to see the city and the tower the
people were building. God said, “If as one people speaking the
same language they have begun to do this, then nothing they plan to do will be
impossible for them. Come, let us go down and confuse
their language so they will not understand each other.” So God scattered them
from there over all the earth, and they stopped building the city. That is why it was called Babel—because there God confused the
language of the whole world. From there God scattered them over the face of the
whole earth.” (Genesis 11:1-9)
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A
while back, I got into a discussion with a colleague about the meaning of the
word ‘eradicate’, in the context of diseases being eradicated. The contention
was that once people had all been vaccinated, the diseases had been eradicated.
I countered that since the diseases had returned when people stopped getting
children vaccinated, the disease had not been eradicated at all. The word ‘eradicate’ in its dictionary
definition, means to remove so completely that it can never return. When
something is eradicated, it is totally gone. So I argued that the removal of
the human host from the process ensured the disease was not spread. Now, she
and I are both educated people with a good grasp of our language; both speak
English. Yet we have very different ideas and approaches.
Language
is a funny thing. Even as it may change in our countries, it does not develop
as quickly or in the same direction as it does in the parent countries. American English, following its
standardisation by Noah Webster, became
more phonetic – and it is the only version of English which did. As children
growing up in Canada, we often joked that we spoke the Queen’s English, and
Americans spoke American English. Yet that was also true. Linguists will tell you that language in new
countries tends to ‘ossify’ while language in the home country changes and
evolves much more quickly. My husband
has now been out of Japan for forty-four years. When he goes back and is in
conversation with younger people, he has been told that his language is quite “quaint”.
He realised that it is still in some ways the language of his youth in post-war
Japan. He often complains that Japanese
has changed so much, and as a linguist, he has found it necessary when he is
back in Japan to try to bring his own language use up-to-date.
How
we use a language, and how we understand a language, depends on so many
factors. Where we were born, when we were born, where we went to school, how educated
our parents were, how important education was, who our teachers were, how well
we learned to read and how much we learned to read, whether or not we got
advanced degrees in education, what the local dialects were, cultural and
regional overlays, whether or not it is our native tongue.
Language involves absorbed and inherent
understandings from within our family and social groups; nuances and local
idioms are brought to bear. We can each use the same word, but depending on all
those other accumulated factors we will understand it differently. Every single
one of us understands and uses the same words differently. It isn’t possible to
say “this is what this word *means*”, because each of us brings to bear all of
the sum of who we are including our life experience to the words we use. That’s
why when someone points to something in the Bible and says “This is why it
means.” I have to say “But that may not be what it means at all.” Some of those
words are translations of translations, and sometimes words which were made up
because there was no corresponding word in the other language.
A friend of mine, a Presbyterian
minister, was once called to minister to a Portuguese-speaking Presbyterian
church. The logic of the Presbyterian national church was that since Portuguese
was a common language to certain peoples, it made sense to have them all in one
congregation. They didn’t realise that the Portuguese spoken in Mozambique,
Brasil, Macao, Angola, Goa, East Timor,
Canada and of course Portugal – are all
different. Even if the words are the same, the acculturated and absorbed
understanding of those words is different. Anyone who speaks French knows that
what is spoken in Quebec is nothing like the French in France.
Years ago, I remember seeing a movie in
which the Greek gods were busy manipulating the lives of people. The people
lived in a huge bowl-shaped earth – and the gods competed for their love and
affection by causing deaths, destruction, wars, good things happening – love,
affection, good fortune. It makes sense. Our scriptures tell us Greeks came to
speak to Jesus, and the Gospel was taken into Greece, where there is no doubt
in my mind the interpretation of faith was affected by the cultural and
linguistic changes. – and indeed that happened in the translations from Hebrew
to Greek. Those other cultural concepts found their way into our theologies.
In the 4th and 5th
centuries Augustine of Hippo lived, wrote, and taught. He was and still is
considered one of the greatest theologians. Among his teachings was that of
salvation – that the number of saved by God’s grace was limited and
predetermined, and if you weren’t on God’s list, you were doomed to eternal
hell. Now, hell for the Jews was a state of being separated from God and in my
mind that informed some of this theology. Yet there were those who argued
against – those who asked why then bother doing good works, or going to
confession and asking for penance and absolution; why enter religious orders
and encourage others to good works? If the number of saved was limited, what
was the point?
In the 12c, along came a philosopher,
theologian and monk named Peter Abelard. At that time, the church believed that
an infant was born into original sin, and if not baptised, would be forever
damned. Abelard contended that children could not be born sinners, were in fact
born in a state of grace, that baptism was in fact not necessary for them to be
beloved of God – but rather how they
lived was most important. In the 12th century, this was considered
heresy, since it called Augustine’s teachings into question. Yet there were
many who argued the same. There were those who did not believe in predetermined
salvation. Abelard, it should be noted, was tried for heresy – something which
was later reversed.
Fourteen years ago, on September 11th, two airplanes were hijacked, and hit the
World Trade Centre twin towers. At that time we had no internet, no Facebook as
we have now, but online chat groups and email groups. I was a member of a group
called Organchat, a church musician’s discussion group. Someone on that group
commented that the face of Satan could be seen in the smoke from the fires, and
that Satan had caused this destruction. Then she went on to say that “God is in
charge.”
I rarely lose it. I don’t get wired up
about a lot of stuff, but that struck at the core – for me – of the expressions
of both language and theology. I said to her that if God was in charge, then
God made Satan do those things, which meant really that God caused those events
– and that if that were true, I did not believe in that God. How often have we heard someone emerge from a
horrific accident in which others were killed, and claim that God saved them,
that God arbitrarily chose for some people to die, and others to live.
So, why am I going on about language and
God? Because I think today, in the church, in The United Church of Canada,
language is of critical importance. Consider this question “Do you believe in
God? Yes or no?” For me that is not a “yes/no” question. There are as many
concepts of God sitting here in this sanctuary as there are individuals, and
every one of those concepts of God is valid for the person who believes it. For
me rather than a ‘Yes/No’ question, it is more a ‘Yes…but….’ question. Whose God, yours or mine. What God? Where?
When? Why? How? And aren’t those the questions of faith? And aren’t we so
limited in our understandings, by our language? What I say and you hear might
be totally different altogether. Even if we speak the same language, we still
don’t – and the possibilities for great misunderstandings arise. One person’s
truth, one person’s expression of truth, is another’s heresy.
A friend of mine, Rev. Gretta Vosper,
has been much in the media lately for identifying as an atheist – a non-theist.
Gretta says, “I don’t believe in the god that you call God.” In other words,
she does not believe in an arbitrary, interventionist, almighty manipulative
God running human affairs both good and bad. That God removes free choice, and
makes us puppets. I don’t believe in that God. Jesus didn’t believe in that God
either. When he was confronted, he said the greatest commandment was to love
your neighbour as yourself, and on that hung ‘all the law and all the prophets’.
If I am asked about the nature of that
great power, that great Other which I call God, I would answer that my God is
Love. Indeed, Love was the one thing
Jesus consistently taught. How do we understand that Love? There’s another
word, packed with meanings and packed with baggage. We heard a story last week
of a woman who was not of Jesus’ faith or culture, teaching him a couple of
lessons about love. We can think of a story about a Jewish man beaten and left
by the side of the road, shunned by at least two of his own people, but cared
for by a Samaritan – and man not of the Jewish faith or culture. A foreigner.
And we are left to draw the conclusion about what constitutes love of
neighbour.
How do we talk about language, talk
about what we believe, talk about how we express our belief, talk about our
fears and doubts, questions and thoughts. I hope we can have some open
conversations, recognising that we all bring our different selves to the
discussion. I hope it will be done in the understanding that we don’t have a
common language of faith, and openness to hear others without judgment or
criticism. Language is important, and we have to be willing to engage in
dialogue, in the language we think we hold in common, and yet which often can
cause so many misunderstandings. May it be so.
Beautiful and thought provoking Fran. Thank you
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