WORDS HURT, WORDS HEAL
There’s the joke about an Iowa preacher’s new car breaking down just after the Sunday service. Come Monday morning, the Reverend managed to drive the vehicle to the town’s one garage for repairs. "I hope you’ll go easy on the cost," he told the mechanic. "After all, I’m just a poor preacher." "I know," came the reply. "I heard you preach yesterday."
Try as we preachers will, some sermons are more like the miracle of Mohammed’s coffin, suspended between heaven and earth, but actually touching neither.
I, like some of you, make my living as a wordsmith, piecing together the alphabet in order to lift people’s spirits. But that wasn’t always true for me, since I was unusually reserved as a baby and young child, saying little that was intelligible until I entered kindergarten. But look at me now.
What a blessing merely to possess language! The wondrous power of words to silence or motivate, to harm or heal. And even as some of our beloved elders, in cognitive decline, are surrendering language, there are newbies, like our 3 year-old grandson, Owen, who’s prattling away like gangbusters, employing new words by the minute.
Oh, the wonder of words. They echo inside our chambers whenever we’re moved or angry, despairing or joyous. Somehow human experience isn’t full until we can frame it in language. And love unspoken, well, it’s simply incomplete.
And words can often outlast us. "The world will little note, nor long remember, what we say here," spoke Abraham Lincoln in his address at Gettysburg, "but we can never forget what they did here." Yet more than a century later, when the names of the soldiers who died are mostly forgotten, Lincoln’s words are indeed what are remembered about Gettysburg, and the heroism itself is recalled largely because Lincoln poured his eloquence upon the field of battle.
The second chapter of the Bible recounts that God breathed into the nostrils of human and it became a "living being." The early Aramaic translation of that phrase, from 2000 years ago, reads: "Adam was given the spirit of speech." The very breath of life, you see, pours into us this magic elixir; through language we become living souls.
No group of people that lacks speech has ever been discovered.
Nonetheless, as a religious pilgrim, neither my livelihood nor my life is composed simply of words. My existence shrivels without song and silence, hugs and action. Deeds are the bottom line of Unitarian Univeralism. Our lives are ultimately judged not by our chatter or even our character but by our conduct. I think of the stirring witness of Albert Schweitzer, who proclaimed: "My life–my argument!"
At the age of thirty, Schweitzer stood at the peak of his promise: theologian, biblical scholar, professor at a great university, and lionized by the high and the mighty. He gave it all up to serve in one of the most disadvantaged and difficult areas of the world at that time, equatorial Africa. There was sickness and sorrow enough for a thousand doctors. Schweitzer built a hospital with his own two hands. He begged for money to supply and staff it. When once he asked an educated, local friend to help him carry a heavy timber, the answer was, "Sorry, but I’m an intellectual and don’t carry around timbers!" To which Schweitzer replied: "You’re lucky. I too wanted to become an intellectual, but I didn’t make it." He might better have said, "but I outgrew it!"
You and I belong to a word-focused, reasonable faith, but we’re scarcely a band of intellectuals. Rather, in the final analysis, we’re called to be truth-doers: people who lug, with our own hands, the necessary timbers to build a more just and joyful world.
But our words count, oh how they count! We’re here on earth primarily to do the truth but we can never forget to speak the truth as well. We Unitarian Universalists belong to a distinct legacy of prophets who assailed the social and theological orthodoxies of their day. Both with deeds and words.
In fact, a cornerstone of the eight steps to enlightenment taught by Buddha some 2500 years ago is "right speech." And in a world of exaggerated advertising, horn-honking road-ragers, hate radio, internet abusers and political spin-doctors–simply a ruder American culture than ever before–right speech is no mean feat. Yet that’s our religious mission: to think deeply, to speak kindly, then to act honorably.
One of our Unitarian Universalist colleagues recently took the five mindfulness precepts of Buddha in a formal ceremony. Cynthia told me that she was devoting her life to the cultivation of deep listening and loving speech in order to bring greater joy to others, starting with her partner and children. She said: "I vow no longer to spread news that I don’t know to be certain and to stop criticizing things of which I’m not sure. I will also refrain from uttering words that might cause discord or bitterness."
As Gandhi said: we must be the change we wish to see in the world, and it all starts with our words: words that create peace, establish justice, and spread joy. So let me share but three reminders in our Unitarian Universalist quest to exemplify "right speech", to use mindful and compassionate language.
WORDS CAN HARM
Folks, we live in an "argument culture" where there’s an increasing glorification of aggression in public discourse. And if we scour the landscape of our own days, we’re likely to locate moments of gossip, unfair rage, and jealous criticism. Almost unknowingly we can spout untruths or misleading half-truths. Our words can harm. So, let’s vow to stop, or at least reduce, our harmful language at home and work, schools and in society, as card-carrying Summitarians in the days ahead.
Remember Hippocrates’ cardinal tenet: "First, do no harm."
I’m giving this sermon right now, because things are quite harmonious around Summit. I like to deliver proactive rather than reactive sermons. We’re currently a civil and decent lot, good for us…but as we move toward possessing, then inhabiting, our very own first home, there will be unavoidable friction, and we must remember to use our words carefully and constructively, lest we do harm to the beloved community we aspire to grow. Every word and every decision will matter, within and beyond our walls.
Here’s an example. I’ve heard some expressed sentiment of late belittling our move to Santee, because, after all, they’re "rednecks," or "we’re entering nothing but a hotbed of bigotry." First off, that blanket assessment is elitist, arrogant, and off-base, since some of our own folks have chosen intentionally to live there. Second, believe me, for every person who will despise a liberal religious presence moving into Santee, there will be another person welcoming our arrival. Third, and most important, if we’re going to be true to our religion that affirms the worth and dignity of every person, then let’s start resembling it by ceasing to use denigrating labels and begin speaking our truths in love. Unitarian Universalists may be different than other religious folk, but we can never presume to be better. Any "holier than thou" attitude is foreign to our way of being and doing religion. Period.
So, my sisters and brothers, let’s dare to be carriers of compassion, leaving our liberal biases and judgments behind. Let’s dare to become a Santee religion known for its open minds, loving hearts and welcoming hands.
BEWARE OF PROUD WORDS
Unitarian poet Carl Sandburg put it poetically:
Look out how you use proud words. When you let proud words go, it’s not easy to call them back. They wear long boots, hard boots…Look out how you use proud words.
In this poetic fragment, Sandburg’s delivering a primary lesson for individuals, classes, and nations alike. Note the clash of proud words that occurs in Congress day in and day out. Arrogance pitted against arrogance. Elected officials pursuing not justice but self-righteousness. They aren’t the only culprits. All too often, you and I say cruel and destructive things, because it’s so much easier to be clever than to be kind, to raise our status by lowering the status of others. But in the long run, smug, nasty words are often the ones that undermine our homes, our communities, our congregations, and global harmony.
Stuck-up words often ride roughshod and aren’t easy to be called back. So, the best policy is simply not to send them. When prone to revenge, enter the silence, then walk away. Yes, there’s surely a time to bite one’s tongue, to leave things unsaid, to participate in what I call a wordfast.
Remember the Holocaust didn’t begin with the building of crematoria, and Hitler didn’t come to power with tanks and guns. It all began with uttering evil words, defaming language, and proud propaganda. Death and life lie in the power of the tongue. Words create worlds. Be careful of the worlds we create, starting at home, in this congregation, and radiating forth from there.
WORDS ARE WORTHY GIFTS
Words not only wound, they can also instruct and inspire. Words capture souls and quicken imaginations; they grant us wings. Being around our grandchildren regularly, I’m reminded of the amazing clout of our adult verbiage; how, whenever we speak to our little ones, we need to make sure that we deliver fair and friendly words, from heart to heart.
Because as children hear words throughout life, they’re creating a dictionary of terms of censure as well as terms of comfort–words they will increasingly use on their own.
Indeed, remember the five phrases I told you my mother taught me as a young child to sprinkle honestly and honorably throughout the course of my days and nights. They were words that mend, that heal, that give life. Such as: "Thank you. I love you. How are you? I’m sorry. What do you need?" Of course, there are inappropriate times to offer any of these phrases. But almost universally, these five short statements and questions express gratitude, love, and caring–the most important freight any of our words can ever convey.
What if you and I could share the conscious power of words with countless others, even our whole nation? Tens of millions of Americans annually observe "The Great American Smokeout" as well as "Earth Day," one concerned with eliminating pollution of our bodies, the other with the pollution of our planet. A continental "Speak No Evil" Day could work to eliminate the pollution of our spiritual atmosphere, the realm in which we commune with others.
A rabbi once asked listeners if they could go for 24 hours without saying any unkind words about or to anybody. A minority raised their hands signifying yes, some people laughed, while quite a large number called out "no!"
He then responded: "All of you who can’t answer yes must recognize how serious a problem you have. Because if I asked you to go for 24 hours without drinking liquor, and you said, "I can’t do that; I’d have to tell you that "you’re most likely a practicing alcoholic." And the same scenario holds with respect to smoking. So, what keeps us from realizing our addiction to the negative use of words?" The rabbi makes a telling point, doesn’t he?
We’re currently amidst the 40 days between Ash Wednesday (which occurred on March 1st) and Easter, April 16th, known as the Lenten season–that annual period of time to review the lessons we’ve learned along our year’s journey. This is as good a season as any to begin our vow to speaking no evil on a daily basis; moreover, the time to utter affirmative blessings to ourselves and all whom we meet on life’s path.
A special day may seem silly, but we’ve got to start somewhere and what’s wrong with starting here and now, where we live and move and have our beings. What better way to celebrate this spring of renewal, of vitality, of hope, than to speak respectfully with neighbors and strangers, friends and foes, with ourselves and our loved ones.
Who knows? Once we get into the habit of right speech, it might just prove hard to break.
Tom Owen-Towle
March 5, 2006
