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They are not always necessary. They are sometimes so. And this,
surely, should indicate our attitude. We should use words not to
obscure meanings, to “darken counsel,” but to communicate realities.
And we should never be afraid of honest communication. If an idea is
drastic and bad, we should consider it and discover why it is bad.
It is not necessarily bad because it is drastic or unusual or
disturbing when we first encounter it. It is only bad because, upon
examination, we discover that its results are likely to be bad.
Similarly, an idea, whether drastic or not, can be found on its
merits to be good. We do not know until we have rationally
considered it.
It is time, therefore, that we stopped playing, like children, with
words. Or being made afraid by epithets. What we need is to reach
the realities. If, because a man’s ideas are strange to me, or I
feel that they would be unwelcome, I dismiss the man or his ideas as
radical, I cheat myself. Yes, it is myself I cheat rather than him!
I refuse to consider something that might be for my benefit. And if
it would not be for my benefit, I prevent myself from knowing this
by honest thought arriving at an honest opinion. And so I have
debased my mind. I have declared my want of confidence in my own
candor. But if I seek the realities conveyed by words. And weigh
them, search them, try to understand them, I am better for it
whether in agreement or in disagreement.
Yet, how far we are from that! The words ring in the air and the
meanings are far from us. We are dazed by the sound of screaming
voices and the realities march on unnoticed. How long must it be
before we learn to ask, “What is the meaning?” Not the word that
drugs the mind, but the meaning that gives health to it. I think of
a man, an investigator for the Government, who comes to see me at
the church. “You know Mr. So-and-so?” he asks. “Yes, I know him.”
“Do you know whether he has any radical associations?” And I
suppress a smile. (One must not smile in the presence of a
Government investigator.) “Radical associations?” I want to reply.
“Well, he’s associated with this church where we preach the
brotherhood of man and the love of one’s neighbor as oneself. I
don’t know how deeply he believes in what this church teaches but
love and brotherhood are surely radical. They shouldn’t be after all
these centuries, but they are. Yes, my friend, and that is our
danger. That these things are still radical—still would require
drastic change—after all this time.” That is what I want to reply.
But I do not do it. I know my cue. I know what is required. I must
take the situation as is comes to me. And so I say, “No, I cannot
imagine his having radical associations.” Which, in a foolish world,
is the right answer to a foolish question. In the sense intended by
the inquiry, the reply is true. The man who is being investigated is
strongly opposed to Communism, he is not interested in drastic
political changes, he does not belong to anything that stirs
Congressional Committees with the tremors have penetrated all his
secrets. At one time, he may have been surreptitious single-taxer,
or a furtive vegetarian!…. More seriously, what would we be
worth—any of us—if at sometime we had not wanted to turn the world
upside down?
I admit that I would like to do it even now—because if anything is
obvious it is that the world is not the right side up. If it is
freedom we want, and justice, and a decent, kindly, peaceful
world—what are we doing to get what we want?
But let us leave that question—at least for now. Let us stay with
one question at a time. What are we doing to dissolve this fantasy
of words that convey no useful meaning, this “darkening of counsel
by words without knowledge?” Perhaps it was distress at this abuse
of language that made Jesus recommend to his disciples that they say
only ‘yea’ and ’nay.’ Obviously, he did not mean that their only
communication should be through these two words. He himself used all
the words he needed to convey what he wanted to say. But that is the
purpose for which he used words. And that, I think, is what he was
advising: that words be used in simplicity and in relation to
realities. Not to obscure meaning but to make them plain.
As the Sarum Missal puts it—and no words could be simpler:
God be in my head,
And in my understanding;
God be in my eyes,
And in my looking;
God be in my mouth,
And in my speaking;
God be in my heart,
And in my thinking;
God be at my end,
And at my departing.
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