Sermon, St. Andrew’s, Sedona,
Proper 19, Year B
Not many of you should become teachers, my brothers and sisters, for you know that we who teach will be judged with greater strictness. For all of us make many mistakes. Anyone who makes no mistakes in speaking is perfect, able to keep the whole body in check with a bridle. If we put bits into the mouths of horses to make them obey us, we guide their whole bodies. Or look at ships: though they are so large that it takes strong winds to drive them, yet they are guided by a very small rudder wherever the will of the pilot directs. So also the tongue is a small member, yet it boasts of great exploits.How great a forest is set ablaze by a small fire! And the tongue is a fire. The tongue is placed among our members as a world of iniquity; it stains the whole body, sets on fire the cycle of nature, and is itself set on fire by hell. For every species of beast and bird, of reptile and sea creature, can be tamed and has been tamed by the human species, but no one can tame the tongue-- a restless evil, full of deadly poison. With it we bless the Lord and Father, and with it we curse those who are made in the likeness of God. From the same mouth come blessing and cursing. My brothers and sisters, this ought not to be so. Does a spring pour forth from the same opening both fresh and brackish water? Can a fig tree, my brothers and sisters, yield olives, or a grapevine figs? No more can salt water yield fresh. --James 3:1-12
Have you ever dealt with a
bully before? Not just from being
bullied yourself, but suppose you were in a position of power, and had to deal
with a bully. Have you ever watched a
bully try to get out of trouble?[1]
One of the first things you might notice is that the bully will try to minimize
the harassment. You’ll recognize it
immediately because of the language and tactics they use:
“It was just a joke.” The use of the word just minimizes the impact and tries to paint the harassment as a
small matter. Calling the harassment a
joke tries to frame the entire matter as if the person who was being bullied simply
mistook the bully’s intention. Or the
bully wants you to focus on the intention, not the reaction, as a way of
avoiding blame.
“You are being too
sensitive.” This is often a silencing
mechanism that a bully uses. It is a
tactic that attempts to make the mistreatment normal. “It makes it sound like there is some line [at]
which it is alright to be sensitive, but that the current incident does not
cross that line,” as interpreted by the bully, or others who share the bully’s
worldview.[2]
It attempts to rest the problem on
the person being bullied, who the bully tries to define as too weak to handle the
real world or the supposedly objective truth that a bully claims special access
to.
Relatedly: “I’m sorry you were offended.” This is the
great non-apology, right? “The aim is
not to atone for a wrong, but to reduce damage to the person’s image.
Repentance is feigned or ignored, contrition held at arm’s length.
Non-apologizers…are more likely to implicitly blame the [person receiving the
non-apology] for getting upset, manufacturing offense, or interpreting the
incident in a way that reflects badly on the wrongdoer.” The person delivering it can move on, professing the matter
dealt with—a routine step in self-mythologizing narratives [that will make them
feel better about themselves—meanwhile] recipients of the unapology feel
continued frustration, even disgust, at the failure to accept responsibility.”[3]
These are incredibly
common sayings. Even if you might not
fall into the category of ‘bully,’ you might use this kind of minimizing
language because it’s the cultural mess we exist within that conditions our
reactions to things.
And there is a difference
between a bully and a person making a mistake— a difference between a genuine
expression of remorse and an insincere fauxpology designed to get someone’s
conscience off the hook. The difference comes
down to such things as acknowledging the offense clearly, explaining it
effectively, restoring the offended parties’ dignity, assuring them they’re
safe from a repeat offense, expressing humility (which shows understanding of
their suffering, and making appropriate reparation).
But a bully will hold to
the tactics above, and that is if they do not simply persist in abusing others
with no attempt to minimize their acts.
There are also the people who proudly proclaim they are simply and
always offensive, as though that is enough to excuse all manner of abuse they
mete out to others.[4]
The minimizing tactic is
interesting to me, as is the use of language and words as a weapon. The use of minimizing language is an attempt by
the person who uses language as a weapon—think of people who rightfully get
called out on their use of racist, sexist, or homophobic language—they use it to
distance themselves from any responsibility for the power and consequences
associated with what they say or the words they use.
In other words, bullies
know full well how powerful their choices of words are, but they try to deny
that their words have any power beyond their mere existence. Bullies choose words explicitly for the pain
they know the words can cause, and then blame their victims when the words do
their expected damage by claiming the victim gave the words too much power. The bully counts on a simultaneous reliance upon and denial of the power of language, and gambles that bystanders will
agree with the bully’s denial of the power of words.
This is part of the
cultural context we live in. We live with
the knowledge of very public cases detailing how sustained campaigns of
bullying have led to teens committing suicide—and leads many others to
depression. We live in a world in which
we’ve seen how carefully orchestrated propaganda campaigns against groups help
create the conditions through which their mass murder becomes possible (think
about how Germans referred to Jews as rats and Rwandan Hutus referred to the
Tutsis as roaches for years before the slaughters began—a pattern of
dehumanization).
The very reason that the
classical rhyme we learned as children—that sticks and stones may break our
bones, but words will never hurt us—the very reason that has to be a constantly
repeated mantra is because it flies in the face of this truth: our realities (even our obscured realities),
the worldview we inhabit, our notions of our very self, are constituted and
expressed by words and language. “Every
choice of phrasing and spelling and tone and timing carries countless signals
and contexts and subtexts and more!”[5]
That nursery rhyme may be helpful for a time in someone’s life—to help not take
the hateful words of another as the truth.
But the nursery rhyme is dead wrong in trying to say that words have no
power. And this notion that our speech
is so easily rendered useless is one that James, who wrote the epistle lesson
we heard this morning, would have found disastrously untrue.
Our reading from James
comes halfway through his letter—and his attention to right speech is one of
the three marks of true religion that he lays out at the beginning when he
writes that:
“If
any think they are religious, and do not bridle their tongues but deceive their
hearts, their religion is worthless. Religion that is pure and undefiled before
God, the Father, is this: to care for orphans and widows in their distress, and
to keep oneself unstained by the world.”[6]
For James, an unbridled
tongue is much more than a local problem characterized by a little gossip—though
it can include that. He considers an
unbridled tongue to be an almost cosmic force set on evil. We see that in his
conviction that the tongue is a fire capable of setting the whole cycle of
nature ablaze.[7] Given how speech can be used for significant
evil—such as setting up the conditions for genocide, or quite literally
bullying someone to death, or contributing of the marginalization of other
groups (James is particularly concerned with the wellbeing and the mistreatment
of the poor)—it is not so hard to see James’s point.[8] Nor does it help that we may use words and
language in such harmful ways, and try to deny that our words have any power.
We live as witnesses to a
society that rewards significant attention to the most extreme voices. I don’t
think I have to point to the election cycle as an example, but there it
is. We witness bullies use the most
hurtful language they can muster against others while claiming that the fault
for the reaction belongs to the person who was just insulted. We witness promises being broken. It is unfortunately not hard to find
Christians who participate in this kind of behavior. In cases in which there is an argument about
removing a display of religion from the public square, you would not have to
look very hard in any online comment section or letters to an editor to find a
Christian issuing a death threat, or condemning an opponent to hell.
We witness the power of
language, and we may lament that in so much of our discourse there is power to
destroy, to divide, to berate. We might
actually prefer that words could be emptied of their power. Sometimes it may even feel like we do that
when we stop listening, seeking a break from the non-stop negativity, It may be
tempting to fall silent, unplug, and retreat into shells we create for our own
mental health. There is some necessity
in that, given how it helps to detox from the worst discourse the world can
throw at us so that we have room to see the truth that God reveals to us more
clearly. It’s like recovering from
drinking too much brackish water.
But, there is something
else we can do, something other than retreat.
While James has been interpreted to advocate silence, it is more
accurate to say that the act of speech is a Christian practice and that careful
attention to speech is important. For
James, The life of faith is one that integrates all parts of oneself toward
perfection in God’s image. That is what
he means when he writes that it should not be the case
that blessing and cursing comes from the same mouth, as fresh water and
brackish water cannot come from the same spring.
James means that our
progression into the life of God will be characterized by our ability to offer
the world wellsprings of that which refreshes instead of that which
sickens. It means offering speech of
substance, weighted full of healing and love.
Here are some ways that
might look:
·
It might mean
remembering the power of our own words, and not attempting to minimize their
impact. If we think we’ll have to walk
back something we are about to say, consider whether those words need to be
spoken.
·
It might look
like holding onto our own criticism of others until we can find a way to do so
in ways that build others up instead of tear them down.
·
It will look like
apologizing—actually apologizing—for when we hurt others.
·
It might look
like holding a bully accountable for the power of their words and the harm they
cause. It means not buying into the lies
they use to try to minimize the impact of their words.
·
Simultaneously,
we must offer comfort and support for those who are bullied, so they might
experience the reality of love, healing, and worth that bullies would deny to
them.
Sisters and brothers,
there is a thirst in this world for something better than our society can
give. So many people can tell stories of
showing up with cups in hand, seeking a spring of fresh water, only to end up
with mouthfuls of salt water.[9] How might we be springs of refreshment in
this world, offering refreshment borne of the love of God? How might we, knowing the power of our words,
offer speech of substance that heals the wounds and oppressions the world
inscribes onto us and others?
[1] Well, election season is upon us, so you’ll
get some practice!
[2] "You're Too Sensitive." Geek
Feminism Wiki. Accessed September 11, 2015.
http://geekfeminism.wikia.com/wiki/You're_too_sensitive.
[3] Carey, Stan. "Sorry Not Sorry: The Many Names for
Non-Apologies." Accessed September 11, 2015. http://www.slate.com/blogs/lexicon_valley/2014/11/20/sorry_not_sorry_non_apology_fauxpology_unpology_and_other_names_for_hollow.html.
[4]
They might introduce themselves by telling you they are an asshole. You will most likely quickly find this is
true.
[5]
Munroe, Randall. "I Could Care Less." Xkcd. Accessed September 12,
2015. http://xkcd.com/1576/.
[6]
Jas 1:26-27.
[7] My
appreciation to Barbara Brown Taylor for much of this phrasing, and her quoting
of Luke Timothy Johnson’s commentary on the “letter of James,” (in The New Interpreters Bible (Nashville:
Abingdon Press, 1998, 12:204)). Bartlett,
David Lyon, and Barbara Brown Taylor, eds. Feasting on the Word: Preaching the Revised Common Lectionary.
Year B Vol 2. Louisville: Westminster John Knox Press, 2008.
[8]
See Jas 2.
[9] I owe
this image to Barbara Brown Taylor, ibid.
