Consider for a moment — how words strung together on a page, following an implied governing structure, intent on completing a single thought, or a succession of thoughts as an idea expressed, are able to make our thoughts available for broader consideration. Or perhaps consider the rolling cacophony and hum of multiple conversations simultaneously taking place in the same room. Language, whether intellectual or banal, whether systematically conveyed or fragmented into nearly incoherent remarks – there’s always an innate intelligibility to language . . . and how that’s actually pretty amazing! The idea that a thought can begin in the mind of one person and end up in the mind of another person is nothing short of miraculous.
Everything I know, and how I came to know it, are inseparable – which is to say, the origins of everything I know is external to me before I internalize it. Even what I imagine to be a new thought invariably takes the shape of the language of what exists outside of me. So when I formulate my thoughts and express them, they inescapably take the shape of the language from which they came. In this way, the immaterial takes shape in the material so that it might be internalized by someone else, where it can be pondered in the immaterial processes of their thoughts. In many ways, this is similar to the laws of physics governing the exchange of matter into energy, and back into matter . . . with the conspicuous exception that human consciousness is a matter of metaphysics.
It could be reasonably argued that the metaphysics of language is a uniquely human distinctive – given that every thought we have can be expressed in words. We may have feelings that words fail to communicate, but our thoughts take shape in language – so that we might ponder, or ruminate on them. In this regard, language provides for a deeply intimate means of introspection, while simultaneously allowing us to voice aloud what is most meaningful to us. Makes you wonder why it is we’ve allowed social media to devolve into such a food fight of mindless banality – as if we were merely animals acting out of nothing more than impulse and instinct.
In “The Last Battle,” the final book of C.S. Lewis’ “Chronicles of Narnia,” we discover that many of the animals living in Narnia have lost the gift of speech – having completely forgotten who they are . . . having forgotten about Aslan. And I can’t help but think about how we now live in a post-Christian culture, where belief in God has largely been dismissed as fairytale lore – while creating in its place a palpable devolution of society. Ironically, smartphones have been dumbing us down – if not with their idlingly vapid amusements, then with their fear-mongering tribalism, making of us the mindless avatars of anger and discontent. The gift of language is being abandoned in real-time – most people have lost the ability to have a civilized, thoughtful conversation . . . in many ways, because they’ve lost the ability to ponder, or ruminate their thoughts.
In the Genesis creation narrative, God formed man from the dust of the ground and breathed life into him (Genesis 2:7) . . . the immaterial animating the material. Then in the first chapter of John, John retells this creation narrative where Jesus is described as the Word – the Word become flesh (John 1:14) . . . the immaterial becoming material. Within both narratives, the relationship between the physical and metaphysical is established. So it occurs to me that the way language moves between the physical and metaphysical, language is intended to make the world we’re created to live in intelligible to us. But how we use language, whether we live by lies, or speak the truth in love (Ephesians 4:15); whether we declare ourselves lord, or confess that Jesus is Lord (Romans 10:9) . . . makes all the difference.
. . . so open my lips, Lord
This is an updated post originally published on Still Chasing Light
Featured Image by Tim Mossholder on Unsplash
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