On Words and their Meanings

Wednesday, December 2, 2009
I think I tend to write better late at night. I seem to be somewhat more self-reflective when I'm low on sleep—maybe because my thoughts have an easier time just flitting from place to random place. It's the organizing of these thoughts that's going to drive me batty for this post, though, I just know it. I haven't really had the time to do this whole writing thing for a while, due to school and other things keeping me from staying up late with any sort of pondering of topics other than homework or when I can just go to bed soonest.

Now that I've gotten that random bit of trivia out of my way, I'd like to bring you on a little pondering excursion. First off, I haven't been reading my Bible very often. A crime, I know. However, being in this ponderous mood that I am, I thought it very appropriate to go read a little bit of the book of James. Why James? Well, it was the first book that came to mind when I was thinking about words, because of its extremely profound section on the tongue. A funny thing, language is. Words are merely sounds put together to convey an idea, right? Well, maybe. Let me get into that a little more, later.

First off, words have their dictionary definitions. Many of my friends call me a walking dictionary, and with good reason; I tend to use many words in my everyday communication that my peers have never really heard. Take, for instance, the word “compunction.” This word, according to my trusty MacBook's dictionary widget, is defined as follows: “A feeling of guilt or moral scruple that follows the doing of something bad; a pricking of the conscience.” And yes, I'd use the term “moral scruple” if I thought it was appropriate, too. Most people would, instead of saying, “He had no compunction about doing thus-and-such,” say something more along the lines of, “He didn't have a problem with doing such-and-such.”

Secondly, though, words have their implied or generally accepted meanings. This implied meaning changes from peer group to peer group. Specifically, I'm thinking of words that are known as “curse words.” People in different groups will have entirely different reactions to these words. I could walk onto a college campus, for instance, and most people I speak with will have no compunction (see, I used it right there, and yes, it's the first word I thought of) about generously sprinkling their conversation with several of these colorful words. However, if I were to take that kind of language inside a church, for example, people would be shocked. To the young adult on the college campus, these words are nothing more than a way of emphasizing speech—generally harmless. It's slang. It's how they talk. It's merely a way of life. To the pious church crowd (I'm thinking of a nice, generic, middle-aged lady as a good example, here), though, it's a different thing entirely; it's crude, it's vulgar, it's offensive. What's the difference, here?

Obviously, the young adult doesn't attach the same meaning to the same word that the churchgoer would take such offense at. Why is this so? Is it just because the churchgoing, middle-aged lady is out of touch with the way language is shifting? Or is it that the more mature adult has a much more mature grasp on the meaning of the various words in the English language?

As a Christian, I think that it's my duty to intimately know what I'm saying. You see, words have deeper meaning beyond just general, vague ideas. You never know who might be listening to what you say; what you meant as a harmless joke or a benign statement could be interpreted differently by someone who doesn't know you as well as you do. If I'm supposed to represent Christ, would I want to say anything that he wouldn't say? This is a question I don't meditate on frequently enough, by any means. Do you really think Christ would “spice up” his conversation with empty or offensive words? No. Absolutely not.

I hope this makes as much sense to you, the reader, as it does to me. Until next time!

1 comments:

Unknown said...

But what if those vetrans of vain lack the volition to vanquish this venal verbosity?

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