Words

I wrote in my very first post on this blog that I like to get the meaning of words right. I like to quibble a bit to make sure that people are using the same lexicon. This ensures that misunderstandings are kept to a minimum.

However, I read through 1 and 2 Timothy today, and toward the end of each letter, Paul says not to quarrel over words. I understand that there were some sh'nanigans going on with false teachers trying to get believers to follow certain practices that didn't have a place in the assembly of Jesus. But I wonder what these quarrels over words were.

From 1 Timothy: "They have an unhealthy interest in controversies and quarrels about words that result in envy, strife, malicious talk, evil suspicions and constant friction between people of corrupt mind, who have been robbed of the truth and who think that godliness is a means to financial gain" (all references TNIV).

From 2 Timothy: "Warn them before God against quarreling about words; it is of no value, and only ruins those who listen."

Again I ask: What are these words? Surely we need to be able to define our terms, especially when we're trying to figure out what a third party is saying.

Weltschmerz

I discovered a great word the other day that seemed to sum up my worldview. Of late, I've felt more and more saddened by what I see going on in the world (Iraq, Washington, Haiti, Tiger Woods—doesn't matter). I pray for peace, shalom-style. But I still feel sad.

That's when I discovered Weltschmerz: "Sadness over the evils of the world . . . " (American Heritage Dictionary). I told my co-workers about it, and we all resonated with it.

Later I wasn't near my AHD (online), so I looked the word up in the dictionary.com app on my iPod. I was shocked by the different definition. "Sorrow that one feels and accepts as one's necessary portion in life; sentimental pessimism." Next chance I got, I looked again at the AHD definition. It continued, "especially as an expression of romantic pessimism." So there is a similarity between the two definitions, but I was able to allocate the first half of AHD's to something I resonated with.

Weltschmerz is a German word meaning "world pain." In my mind, it's too bad it took on such Eeyoreism. A Christian worldview sees the pain in the world and feels genuine sadness. But there's always hope in the present, based on God's faithfulness in the past, looking expectantly toward the future redemption, resurrection, and restoration. According to the dictionary, Weltschmerz places its hope squarely in the past, if indeed there is any hope at all.

I propose a Christian Weltschmerz that motivates us to action as we work toward and wait for our final redemption.

Patriotism

A couple of weeks ago, Susan and I were driving through a new construction zone, and we saw a delightful sign. It was delightful because we were pretty sure there was a mistake, but we weren't sure. It said, "Stores open during construction," and the second screen said, "Thank you for your patriotism." We tried laughing, but we were too incredulous to do so wholeheartedly. What if they actually meant that?

Tonight we drove by, and thankfully our suspicions were confirmed. The second screen read "Thank you for your patronage."

Gales of laughter.

Refectory

I have to wonder about pretension. Or pretending.

The other day, I was on the intranet for Fuller Seminary, and I saw their refectory was closed or had limited hours for the summer. This begged the question in my head: "What the heck is a refectory?" I had an idea, but I had to check. And sure enough, it did have to do with food. Well, I'll be. I'm a pretty big fan of foody stuff.

Why did my seminary use such a pretentious word for "cafeteria"?

Because they aren't pretending.

My widget tells me that a refectory is a place for communal meals, especially in a religious or educational institution. Fuller's good on four counts. There's food. They're religious. They provide education. And they like to emphasize community.

I'm not normally against big words, but for some reason I thought this pretense was a bit out of line. It's a friggin' cafeteria. But actually it's not. A cafeteria denotes a place where feedlot cattle would eat if they were bipeds and carried trays. A refectory is a place where students or monastics intentionally—self-consciously, in a good way—come together to share a meal in a reflective atmosphere.

Not having been on the main campus of Fuller since I was four, I'm happy to know that they are at least trying to cultivate the discipline of reflective communal supping, even if it may be in name only.

Demonym

When I showed my wife the hilarity of my friend's post, we started talking about Niger, the country where they live. What is a person from Niger called? I had an idea, but I didn't want to make anything up, so I checked Wikipedia. Our friends there introduced me to one of my new favorite words: demonym. Literally, it means "name of the people." It seems a fairly recent neologism, and it's brilliant. By the way, they're "Nigeriens," pronounced with a Freedom accent.

An awful joke

A kid walks into the kitchen just as his mom finishes carving the turkey for Thanksgiving dinner. When he sees the guts, he exclaims, "That's offal!"

Inclusive of friendliness

Upon the generous bestowal of a gift card (Thanks, Emmie!), Susan and I went to Olive Garden for dinner tonight. Oh, so yummy. In our usual (if infrequent) order, there is nothing I don't enjoy fully. The salad, breadsticks, steak gorgonzola or chicken alfredo pizza, and dessert are absolutely wonderful. But there is one thing that tops everything: zuppa toscana. It is a perfectly spiced white soup of potatoes, sausage, and greens.

Which brings me to my point. The waiter came to check if we needed anything and asked me, having just finished a bowl of soup, "Do we need another bowl of soup?" Susan noted after Ben had left, "No, we don't, but you do." I told her he was using the inclusive of friendliness.

In my Greek classes over the years I have enjoyed a number of specialty grammar designations such as this. In technical terms, I might document the usage this way: Subject uses first person plural inclusive pronoun metonymously for second person singular or plural exclusive (relative to the speaker) pronoun. The speaker used a grammatical construction that includes himself in order to ingratiate himself in an exclusive environment. An inclusive of friendliness.

Deity pronouns

Another odd obsession of mine is whether or not to capitalize pronouns referring to deity. I fall pretty firmly on the side of not doing so. The general reason is that historically no one has capitalized these pronouns, so why start now. In fact the early manuscripts of the New Testament had all capital letters with no spaces. How on earth will I know when Jesus does stuff?!

A second angle is similar to my dislike for red letter editions. These practices privilege words that were never meant to be privileged.

My latest reason came the other day as I was reading some unedited copy with pronouns referring to Jesus capitalized. I was struck with the strong sense that the capitalized pronouns were used almost as a name so that the antecedents didn't really need to be defined. If this is the case, then that simply points out authorial laziness.

We should never use specific words as an out so we can avoid good writing. (See "stuff" above.)

Things you think before pregnancy

Pre-conception preconceptions

Vanity foul

I was reading along in my favorite theologian/historian/philologist/bishop/awesome dude, and his juxtaposition of "vanity" and "futility" was enlightening.

I'm used to hearing an Old English rendering of Ecclesiastes: "Vanity! Vanity! Everything is vanity!" Falling on today's ears, that means self-absorption and my favorite line, "I thank God I am not like other men . . ." But the root of "vanity" is "vain." Now the previous lines definitely describe vain people. But there's also the meaning of "Your resistance will be in vain! Prepare to be assimilated!"

Recent commentators have preferred to translate "Vanity!" in Ecclesiastes as "vapor." Futility, vapor, vanity/doing things in vain; they all go nicely together. But how did "vanity" in the magazine rack come to mean not "Futility Fair"?

I propose it was moralism from certain concerned parents. In their pious judgment, being too interested in oneself, one's social standing, and one's appearance was an exercise in futility. They taught their children to not "chase after the wind" (more Ecclesiastes; I'm curious why I get the feeling in that work that the Teacher wasn't emphasizing self-absorption but merely activity). Later, people's vain (futile) actions became metonymous with their conceited attitudes. Now "vanity" is understood almost exclusively as pertaining to attitudes, but the root still deals with both actions and their not-necessarily-related attitudes. I don't have to be conceited to behave in a futile way. Stupidity and laziness do just fine.

Very

A wise mentor always told me I should never use the word "very" if I wanted to write well. I didn't really believe him until I ran across two uses in different manuscripts. One said that something was "very critical." I'm not actually sure if you can get more critical than critical. The other was "very fundamental." It doesn't get more fundamental than fundamental.

I confess I still use "very" very liberally. Augh! I did it again! I'm becoming more aware of how the word cheapens other words. Particularly in American culture, we tend to superlativize like crazy. So once "critical" or "fundamental" isn't enough anymore, we add "very." A way to avoid overusing the word is to ask, "Does the word being described carry the meaning of 'very' in it already?" Then ask whether the word being described is strong enough. You may be able to substitute a word that's more colorful anyway, and your writing just got better.