Words Matter

    Words matter. As much as we would like it to be true, the saying some of us learned as kids is not quite accurate: “Sticks and stones can break my bones, but words will never hurt me.”  Words can be just as hurtful as sticks or stones, maybe more so. With time bruises fade; soreness diminishes, cuts heal, leaving behind a scar to remind of its cause. But words can leave scars that no one sees, stitched up hurts hidden in the heart. Some know the pain of being called “dummy,” “fatso,” “four-eyes,” “freak,” or “geek.” Others know the hurt that goes with being labeled with an epithet that stands in for their race, creed, ethnic origin, or sexual orientation. I won’t repeat those labels here.  You can fill in the blanks. Still others know the limitations imposed when they are reduced to being identified by a physical condition, a mental illness, or the disease that has turned their life upside down. We’ve long since ceased to call someone a “cripple,” however, we still have some names we use that have the potential to stigmatize and impose limitations: “Paraplegic,” “Autistic,” “Covid 19 victim.”

    Words matter. Words make a difference. Words can be spoken with condescension or compassion. There is a story in the seventeenth chapter of Luke (17. 11-19) that tells of ten individuals who were healed by Jesus. Often it is used to speak about thanksgiving, since only one of them returned to thank Jesus for a new lease on life. Today I turn to that story for a different reason. A comparison of two translations of the story provides an illustration of how words matter. The same words from Greek are translated differently, one sticking closer to the original than the other. It may not seem like a big deal, but it is. When it comes to the story of Jesus and the ten who called out to him for mercy outside a village on the way to Jerusalem, translators have been faced with a decision that impacts how one views those ten individuals who were united by a common malady. In The New Revised Standard Version, those who called out to Jesus seeking mercy were identified as “ten lepers.” In light of what I said earlier, that’s like saying, “ten cripples,” “ten autistics,” “ten Covid victims.”

    The New International Version of the Bible, offers a slightly different translation of the passage. In-stead of “ten lepers” the NIV speaks of “ten men who had leprosy.” Do you see the difference? Words matter. That’s like saying “ten people who were crippled by illness or in-jury,” “ten children on the Autism spectrum,” “ten individuals battling the Corona Virus.” New Testament scholar Alan Culpepper digs back into the original language and uncovers Luke’s original take on who these folks calling out to Jesus were. He says:  “As the NIV makes clear, Luke identifies the ten not as lepers but as “men who had leprosy” just as earlier he referred to the man who was paralyzed not as a paralytic but as “a man who was paralyzed” and called the Gerasene demoniac “a man who had demons.” The difference is subtle but reflects a humanizing and dignifying recognition of personhood.”[i]

    Words matter. This is not a matter of being politically correct. It is one of the ways the words “love your neighbor” cease to be an empty phrase and put belief into practice. Luke’s humanizing and dig-nifying choice of words suggests that we consider the words we use and how we use them when it comes to speaking about others, especially as we emerge from this divisive election year.

    It is one thing to divide up the world according to the labels placed upon others: black and white, red and brown, liberal and conservative, straight or gay, sane or crazy, healthy or diseased, whole or handi-capped, republican or democrat, protester or looter. It is another thing to begin to talk about the neigh-bor who is African American; the employer with conservative leanings; the aunt known for supporting liberal causes; the sister who is mentally ill; or the spouse who votes red while you go blue. 

    It is all too easy to dismiss whole groups of people when we tag them with a common label, especial-ly when our tone of voice is laced with venom and hate. It is not so easy when we connect that label to a human face we know and maybe even love! In these days of highly charged rhetoric, we have heard and seen comments and tweets and social media memes and spray painted graffiti, tar whole groups of people with broad, dismissive words. We do well not to fall for such misleading and dehumanizing dis-tinctions, or to use them ourselves. As the Gospel story reveals, those we hold in contempt don’t always live up or down to our expectations!

Prayer:
            Gracious God, send your Holy Spirit to remind us of  the words and ways of Jesus, 

            who responded to those in need with compassion. 

            And as we think of your love made visible in “the Word made flesh,” 

            help us to measure our words so that those who hear them, 

            “will know that we are Christians by our love!” In Jesus’ name, we pray. Amen.

(Adapted from an old sermon preached for First Presbyterian Church, West Pittston; later adapted as a devotional for the beginning of a presbytery committee meeting; further revisions were made for an internet daily devotional for the Hickory Street Presbyterian Church in Scranton, PA.. Some good words never grow old!)

[i] R. Alan Culpepper, The New Interpreter’s Bible, Vol. IX, Luke, John, (Nashville, TN: Abingdon Press, 1995), p. 326