words

On Friday, The Washington Post reported:

“The Trump administration is prohibiting officials at the nation’s top public health agency [the Centers for Disease Control] from using a list of seven words or phrases…The forbidden terms are ‘vulnerable,’ ‘entitlement,’ ‘diversity,’ ‘transgender,’ ‘fetus,’ ‘evidence-based’ and ‘science-based.’”[1]

I do not presume to know why these particular words have been banned, but as a Christian theologian I am deeply concerned about this prohibition. I suspect there are many Christians who wonder why I should be concerned—and, in fact, many Christians may be celebrating the prohibition. In this essay I want to share with you why it concerns me.

The core of my reasoning follows from the significance of the holy season we happen to be in right now: Advent and Christmas.

The Word and Our Words

John’s Gospel opens with a shocking portrait of Jesus, whom John describes as “the Word.” When John wrote this description of Jesus, he did so in Greek and the word he used to describe Jesus was “Logos.” It is a term from Greek philosophy that was used in Jewish deuterocanonical sacred literature (such as Sirach and Wisdom of Solomon).

Those texts connect the Greek idea of “Logos” with Solomon’s portrait of Wisdom in the book of Proverbs. Solomon gives Wisdom a voice and a personality that, at many points, is identical to the voice and personality of God. Biblical scholars assert that—on the whole—Wisdom literature was intended to help the Jewish people apply Torah to their everyday life and, especially, know how to live faithfully in the midst of suffering. The book of Job is a fine example of this, but Proverbs and Ecclesiastes also draw on this latter theme.  

The Jewish philosopher Philo also used the word Logos in this specialized way, but in Philo it signifies notions such as rationality, structure of existence, or plan. It is a more impersonal concept than one finds in either canonical or deuterocanonical sacred literature.

John’s use of the word “Logos” draws on the more personal portrait he inherited from his Jewish ancestry, but John takes it a step further. He claims that Logos (or Wisdom) resides in an actual person, Jesus: “The Word became flesh and made his dwelling among us. We have seen his glory, the glory of the one and only Son, who came from the Father, full of grace and truth.” (John 1:14)

During this time of year, Christians reflect on and celebrate the wonder that the Word became flesh. This Word, Christians have always proclaimed, is so much bigger, so much more wonderful than all our words. Were we to use all the best words in all the beautiful languages of this wonderful wide world to describe the Word, we would fall short. 

It is sad, then, that many Christians approach this season as a time when they feel they must fight a war of words.

They say: “Why is it politically incorrect to say ‘Merry Christmas’ these days? Why must we be brow-beaten to say ‘Happy Holidays’ instead? It’s a plot to wipe us out. We’ll show ‘them.’”

Whoever “them” is. If Christians want to erase a word maybe a good place to start would be by striking the word ‘them’ from our vocabulary. After all, God became a human so there would be no more ‘us’ and ‘them.’

“But they started it!” many Christians might say. “They are the ones who wanted to erase ‘Christmas’, not us. We are in a war of words and we must fight back.”

The Word of Presence

Is this our war, a war of words? Is this what the Word is all about? Are Christians to be in the business of shaping culture by words? If Christians are to be positive influencers of culture, how are we to do that? How did Jesus do it? Was Christ’s work of redemption aimed at changing our words—or something greater?

I assert that what John tells us in his Gospel is more fundamental (and thus more striking) than a message focused on changing our words. John tells us:

the primary word of the Word to the world

isn’t a word at all:

it’s Presence.

The Word took on flesh so he could dwell among us. This Word has not commissioned us to be cultural engineers, as if word-smithing is our mission. No, this Word has commissioned us to be present, to see reality as it is and to love the people of the world’s reality. That is what Jesus did. He looked at the world as it was—and he loved every bit of it.

He did call people to grow, to leave behind the sin that holds us all back—but he did this by being present and loving.

I find it significant, though, that those he challenged the most were those who tried to control culture…by words: the scribes, the Pharisees, the Sadducees and the teachers of the law. Keep in mind that these religious leaders were tasked primarily with the keeping of texts and the interpretation of texts. By the time of Jesus, the oral traditions that later were recorded in the Talmud, Mishnah and Midrash were already flowering. Such traditions were predicated on the soil of sacred texts, seeded with so many words and their debated meanings.

It should tell us something today that these various traditions (both conservative and progressive) arose over fights about words. But these fights keep us from being present and from listening.

And what of the words we use or try to prohibit today? If we listen, we will hear an outcry over these new banned words. If we keep listening, we will hear why such an act is so hurtful. It is as if one group is trying to erase another group. It feels like genocide, a linguistic holocaust.

We do well to remember that Jesus did not come to wipe out others. He came to be with us, to be present, to look at reality full in the face through human eyes, to love.

It is a cruel irony that the words ‘vulnerable’ and ‘diversity’ appear on the list of banned words. The very presence of those words on such a list should give every Christian who celebrates this prohibition cause to wonder whether they are faithfully embodying the Word-become-flesh.

Being Present to the Words of Culture

Luke’s birth narrative tells us even more about the relationship of Christ to culture—and, particularly, Christ’s relationship to the words of culture.

Notice that Luke sets his narrative in the context of Caesar Augustus: “In those days Caesar Augustus issued a decree that a census should be taken of the entire Roman world.” (2:1)

At the time of Jesus’ birth, Augustus had been the official Emperor of Rome for about 27 years. His reign ushered in a period known as the Pax Augusta (or, “Peace of Augustus”). As Emperor, Augustus promulgated a vision of a war-free world where society would flourish. An interesting inscription reveals the way in which Augustus framed his vision. It is known as the Priene Inscription and in it Augustus is referred to as a “savior.” His birth was hailed as the birth of a god and his vision of peace was dubbed “euangelia”—which is the ancient Greek word for “good news” or “gospel.” The “euangelia” of Augustus extended “even beyond the hopes of those who were anticipating great things from him.”[2]

Notice that Luke’s narrative presents the advent of Christ in the terms of the Pax Augusta. I will underline certain parts below to highlight the parallels. The portion I have selected is from Luke 2:10-14.

“But the angel said to them, ‘Do not be afraid. I bring you good news that will cause great joy for all the people. Today in the town of David a Savior has been born to you; he is the Messiah, the Lord. This will be a sign to you: You will find a baby wrapped in cloths and lying in a manger.’

“Suddenly a great company of the heavenly host appeared with the angel, praising God and saying,

“’Glory to God in the highest heaven,

    and on earth peace to those on whom his favor rests.’”

Notice that the core of Luke’s account draws on Augustus’ announcement of “good news.” The content of this “good news” is “joy for all the people” because “a Savior has been born,” who is “the Lord.” The “joy for all” is a picture of “peace” (Pax) on earth.

Nowadays we read this and many of us think of Linus’ speech in the Charlie Brown Christmas special. It makes us go “awwwww” as if the power of the text lies in its cuteness. But if we read this text in light of the Empire, it is anything but cute. It is precisely the kind of message that got the early Christians killed. It’s a subversive message. The term “Lord” was commonly used by many in those days, but in this context it was especially used to refer to Augustus (who was regarded as the Lord; that is, akin to the Lord Most High).

For our discussion, I want to point out that Luke draws on what is already embedded in the culture and tries to persuade us that the longings that correspond to Augustus’ vision are actually met in Jesus.

It is significant to me that the early Christians did not try to engage culture by banning what was already there. Rather, they faced it head on and entered into dialogue with what was there.

How did they do it? The same way Jesus did it: by being present and paying attention to the deep longings of the world.

To ban a word (especially without offering a better word) is to overlook the people for whom such a word is meaningful. I do not see how we can ban words and love people at the same time since such an act (in effect) prohibits communication.

Solidarity with the Vulnerable

Jerome Berryman articulates well the scandal of the incarnation: “…the Word was born a wordless child.”[3]

This picture of a vulnerable God lies right at the heart of Christianity. Without the vulnerability of God we have no faith. Yes, I use that word “vulnerable” on purpose.

The early Christians understood this and lived such vulnerability because it is what they saw their Lord do. Everything they proclaimed about Christ pointed back to his vulnerability—the weakness of his birth, the position of servant he took in his ministry and the nakedness of his crucifixion.

The great hymn about Jesus in Philippians 2 portrays his vulnerability with unsurpassed poetic beauty. Savor it:

“Your attitude should be the same as that of Christ Jesus:

Who, being in very nature God,

    did not consider equality with God something to be grasped;

but made himself nothing,

    taking the very nature of a servant,

    being made in human likeness.

And being found in appearance as a man,

    he humbled himself

    and became obedient to death—

        even death on a cross!” (Phil. 2:5-8)

The apostle Paul patterned his life and ministry after Christ’s vulnerability: “I resolved to know nothing while I was with you except Jesus Christ and him crucified. I came to you in weakness with great fear and trembling. My message and my preaching were not with wise and persuasive words, but with a demonstration of the Spirit’s power, so that your faith might not rest on human wisdom, but on God’s power.” (I Co. 2:2-5)

His message was not “with wise and persuasive words, but with a demonstration of the Spirit’s power.” I find it significant that, in early Christianity, the first such demonstration of the Spirit’s power was on the day of Pentecost when the Spirit enabled a group of unlettered disciples to proclaim the message of Christ crucified in languages they had not known previously. The Spirit’s work was to help the disciples learn how to speak the language of others, not obliterate it.

The early Christians were dedicated to doing what they saw Christ do. They were not in the business of cultural engineering, linguistic manipulation. Rather, they were dedicated to embracing culture and coming near to everyone, as Christ came near to everyone.

I often say that the work of Christ was to care for the people no one else cared about—and that was the power of the early church’s message, too. They were the ones who cared about the people no one else cared about. So, when they were being put to death for proclaiming “Jesus is Lord” the people wondered: “Them?! Why? They aren’t the bad people. They’re good! They care about…the vulnerable.”

It made no difference to Jesus who he met: he always loved them. He even loved the religious leaders; it’s just that he did so by telling them to stop judging others based on so many words. He wanted to break down the “dividing wall of hostility” and he did so by giving up his life to show us the full extent of his love for everyone, including those we condemn.

His death is the most powerful silent witness the world has ever known. His death speaks more loudly than any of our shouting directed at our enemies—and when we would silence our enemies, his voice of love is more than able to supply the words on their behalf. Try as we may to silence others, his ears are open—even when we want to close ours. To my fellow Christians, I ask you: pray for ears to hear.

Endnotes:

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[1] Lena H. Sun and Juliet Eilperin. “CDC gets list of forbidden words: Fetus, transgender, diversity” in The Washington Post, 12.15.17. https://www.washingtonpost.com/national/health-science/cdc-gets-list-of-forbidden-words-fetus-transgender-diversity/2017/12/15/f503837a-e1cf-11e7-89e8-edec16379010_story.html?tid=ss_tw&utm_term=.0400999bf1b6 (Accessed 12.17.17)

[2] K. Schenck. “Gospel: Good News” in Dictionary of Jesus and the Gospels, ed. Joel B. Green, et. al. (Downers Grove: IVP Academic, 2013), 342.

[3] Berryman, Jerome. The Complete Guide to Godly Play, vol. 4. (Atlanta: Morehouse Education Resources, 2011), 35.