Jonathan Merritt moved from his Bible Belt home town to New York. Used to 'Christianese' being spoken everywhere, from church on Sunday morning to the gun counter at the local department store, he found himself in culture-shock - New Yorkers spoke a different language. Christian referents were either largely absent or tied up with the rhetoric of campaigning politicians, fundamentalism and televangelists.
It's a uniquely American situation but there's an underlying pattern that stretches out to people who might be inclined to have conversations about faith around the western world. We now live in a world where the language and vocab of religion are either way outside people's standard lexicographical frameworks or are subject to a web of additional cultural construals. Faced with this situation, studies show that people of faith are editing these terms out of their everyday interactions and altogether avoiding conversations about faith.
But sacred words are important - they allow us to have a certain type of conversation - and hopefully not just conversations within our own epistemological bubbles. And so Merritt sets about addressing the issue.
The book is wonderfully memoir-based, as he uses anecdotes from his own journey to propel the book forward and as gateways to discussing the subject at hand. A diagnosis of the problem is followed by a survey of possible responses: fossilisation - circle the wagons in an attempt to preserve the language (preserve the bubble amongst the initiated); substitution - in the face of misunderstanding and negative connotations drop the words altogether (maybe don't even say 'God' any more) and find alternates; and (spoiler alert: Merritt's proposed solution) transformation - keep using the terms but acknowledge their problems and let them evolve, discussing and negotiating meaning alongside their use... ie learn to speak God from scratch - be aware of the words you're using, play with them, experiment, keep language alive.
The second part of the book is designed to demonstrate transformation in process (still couched in memoir) and Merritt explores a grab-bag of terms: creed, prayer, pain, disappointment, mystery, God, fall, sin, grace, brokenness, blessed, neighbour, pride, saint, confession, spirit, family and lost.
I have genuine empathy with all the three possible responses to the challenges of God-speak - and I say this as a person who is already invested in the function of words and likes to think about them to a detail that becomes almost impractical in everyday life.
I like the idea of honouring the historicity of the meanings of words - their etymology and their dictionary definition. I like specialist words. I know the impulse to preserve.
I also like the idea of seeking alternate ways to express old concepts. I used to sometimes think about Jesus's words about not putting new wine (new concepts) in old wineskins (old frameworks)... that storage method doesn't work because as the new wine ferments it bursts a bag that no longer has stretch in it. But, I used to think to myself, putting old wine in new wineskins - that would work. So I used to give a lot of thought to fresh expression for old ideas, and so understand the impulse to drop words that aren't working any more or that are standing in the way of communication.
But in more recent times I've become a fan of 'third-way thinking' which attempts to weave a path between supposed dualities, and so I like this proposition of Merritt's... and I like that it involves a notion of play - word-play, exploring the diversity of words and having conversations about what words mean, so that these kinds of discussions travel alongside the use of the words themselves. I'm the type of person who would probably find this fun.
I was going to use a chunk of this review to talk about a word that I wish Merritt had included in his grab-bag: religion. Oh my. Heck, let's take a punt at discussing a real curly one. It's a word that's become seriously besmirched in the last several decades, and is now popularly seen as being a negative thing.
On one side it's faced the squeeze from atheists who see religion as inherently bad - responsible for most of the problems of the world (exacerbated by revelations of some of the terrible things that sometimes go on inside the confines of religion) - and they seem dedicated to the futile task of eradicating it from human culture.
Then, speaking specifically about the Christian faith - usually on the pentecostal / charismatic tip - the word religion has been used as synonymous with a rules-based, legalistic, boring, geeky, rote, non-spontaneous, dead construct - a dangerous substitute for genuine personal faith. So you hear people say such things as, 'I'm not religious, I have a relationship with Jesus.'
What's happened in both these situations is that 'religion' has lost its qualifier. What should rightly be termed 'bad religion' or 'dead religion' is now simply called 'religion'.
The reason I find this sad, and frustrating, is that without 'religion' we no longer have a term that describes the frameworks and matrices that humans always (and I mean always) have in their approaches to the divine. Religion is an utterly natural human instinct. Religion can turn bad, but it is not inherently bad - it's like 'culture', 'society', 'economics', 'science', 'government'. I wish we could at least preserve the word as a purely anthropological term. I like this definition:
"a set of beliefs concerning the cause, nature, and purpose of the universe, especially when considered as the creation of a superhuman agency or agencies, usually involving devotional and ritual observances, and often containing a moral code governing the conduct of human affairs."
Here are some external things that Christians might do (even those who feel strong resistance to being labelled as 'religious') which fall under the category of religion: go to church, pray, read the Bible, sing specific types of songs as acts of worship (ie acts of devotion), take communion, practise baptism (these last two can be technically called by another besmirched word - 'ritual', aka 'sacraments' - in this case directly instituted by Jesus). And that's just the tip of it. Now, I know none of things are a substitute for a 'relationship with Jesus' but, when done in a healthy way, they are most certainly actions by which a 'relationship with Jesus' is formed and maintained.
Deep breath. Yep, us Christians (or if you are shy of the word 'Christian', Christ-followers) are religious - might as well own it - if it isn't already too late. And in owning it begin to play with the term 'religious', work with it, negotiate it, take ownership of the connotations, fess up where we need to fess up, know the pitfalls, explore the beauty, maybe even let it hold us, accept its gifts, define and use it, in the kinds of ways Merritt suggests as we learn and relearn how to language the divine and our interactions with the divine. It feels risky but it's a compelling proposition - I wonder where it might lead.