Finding Just The Right Words
In baseball, when the pitcher (is he a southpaw, does he have good “stuff,” is he wild, does he have a “bad hose?”) throws the ball (is it a curve, splitter, cutter, change-up, chin music, or, as Joe Morgan likes to say on ESPN on Sunday nights, a “slide-piece”), and the batter (using an open stance, employing an inside-out swing, trying to hit behind the runner, sitting “dead red,” anticipating the high cheese) hits it in the air (a can of corn, frozen rope, blue darter) to an outfielder (is he a journeyman, a gold-glover, a butcher?), who catches the ball, it is termed a fly ball out. When someone asks, “What did Derek Jeter do in his last at-bat?,” do you say, “He flied out to right field,” or “He flew out?” Most baseball players and fans, familiar with the lingo, likely would respond with “flied.” Is there such a word?
Where did all the birds go last autumn? “They flied south.” Hmmm, that doesn’t sound correct. Within the confines of a baseball stadium (between the white lines), though, “flied” actually is a word. It’s part of the descriptive language of the sport.
In Tae Kwon Do, a Korean martial art, we taught the students terminology in addition to the kicking and punching techniques. Supposedly, what we required them to learn was in the Korean language. For instance, in order to advance in belt rank, the students were supposed to know the Korean names for the techniques they were demonstrating in the test.
We taught beginning students that “Tae Kwon Do” meant “Feet, Hands, Mind.” And in our warm-ups at the beginning of class, we instructed them to yell (there is a LOT of yelling in martial arts) “Tae Kwon!” on double punches, and “Tae Kwon Do!” on triple punches. I often wondered what a person from Korea might think if he or she walked by and heard unseen people shouting, “Feet! Hands!” “Feet! Hands! Mind!”
Recently, I was in the presence of a clergyperson from another denomination who made some jesting remark about our church practicing “sacerdotalism.” My response, not entirely in jest, was “I beg your pardon!” He was making reference to the five steps rising from the floor level of our sanctuary to the platform (chancel) where our pulpit stands, implying that we put our clergy on a bit of a pedestal. Obviously, he doesn’t understand Disciples! But, what should be expected from someone who is part of his church, the name of which begins with “B?” (Take that!)
Groups, activities, and cultures, of course, have distinct languages and terminology. Theology (“God-talk”) is one of the worst offenders, and if preachers went around tossing off terms like sacerdotalism (meaning, “The belief that priests act as mediators between God and humans”) all the time, the pews would be emptier than they are now.
Pastor Michael Lindvall makes the point in an article that a preacher is wise to leave the fancy words back in the study when he or she speaks to the faithful on Sunday mornings – not that folks aren’t intelligent enough to deal with them -- but in order that clearer and more meaningful expression of the gospel can take place. Too much pretension already occurs in pulpits. We don’t need linguistic arrogance and grandstanding, too.
Of course, in seminary, the technical jargon continuously bounces off the walls and ceiling. After all, professors and fellow students need to be impressed! But, I’ll never forget a comment by a theology professor, Ed Towne, during a class discussion of the Classical Theories of Atonement. He looked at all of us and almost pleaded, “What does it really mean to say that Jesus was raised from the dead?” We looked back at him, with no one saying a word – for a long time.
He simply stated, “Your silence is profound.”