Is one language ever really enough?
Almost everyday I find myself searching for words and more times than not, I come up with them in a language other than the one I'm supposed to be speaking. I was in class the other day and we were talking about how Jesus could have come in and demolished the Romans (but he didn't, because that wasn't the way he had planned), but I couldn't think of the word "demolished" or similar words in English. However, I knew the sign I needed and half way through my sentence I switched to sign language and threw the word out that I needed. It got my point across, and the sign I used was just a really fun sign (it's one of my favorites...I'm not sure what it says about me when many of my favorite signs are on the "violent" side of things. The sign for "bombs" is super fun too.)
Another time, in a context where the primary languages were supposed to be sign and English, I caught myself thinking in German (and maybe even a little Greek!) and accidentally vocalizing a few times in German instead of English. Many times I'll know a German (or other language word) that describes how I'm feeling or what I want to say much better than the English words I know. Once I know the word I want in German I try and think of the English word and there just isn't one! How do you translate the word "kribble" (Ich habe einen Kribble in meinen Bauch) into English? The best I've ever come up with is to Anglicize it (My stomach is all kribbly) and then when people ask, try and use lots and lots of words to explain it. In this instance, "kribbly" can be describe as happy little butterflies dancing around inside, kind of like the feeling you get when you talk with that special someone...or are filled with excitement. They aren't the kind of butterflies you get when you are nervous about giving a speech or something. Those are mean butterflies. There are all kinds of other words I do that with, just because I don't know the English or English simply doesn't have the word I need.
The other day I threw the Hebrew "Nephesh" into conversation (I may or may not have been feeling slightly kribbly at the time) because I didn't have an English word to explain what I was saying. (My conversation partner actually had to look the word up. Hebrew phrases weren't in their vocabulary.)
So what is my point? That's a really good question. I'm still working on that minor detail. What bugs me is that so many of us in North America know one language. Just one. And mostly it is English, which although a beautiful and diverse language, is lacking in so many ways.
Is there a way to fix this problem? I wish I knew. I wish I could tell everyone to go out and learn multiple languages so that we could have fuller communication. I wish there was a practical way to come up with a language that would be understood by everyone, everywhere, and encompass the fullness and richness of individual languages, but that's just not practical. Firstly, our world is too big for everyone to learn the same language. It just wouldn't happen. Secondly, we all have different language needs. Someone living near the equator would not need as many words for winter precipitation as we need in Canada.
I don't know the answer. Do you?
Showing posts with label language. Show all posts
Showing posts with label language. Show all posts
Thursday, October 13, 2011
Monday, June 13, 2011
My Father's Voice
Every morning that I'm on the farm, almost like clockwork, I hear the good morning voice. It starts in the back on the upstairs hall "Good Morning Isaac" and then moves forward calling to the girls. Then downstairs for Ben, Reuben, and Me. The order changes only if we change beds or someone isn't home. Every time it says "Good Morning" there is a replying, sleepier voice responding with "Good Morning Papa." If we fail to respond, the voice calls to us again. And again, and again, until we respond.
It's that voice, that deep, reassuring voice, that brings us all out of our world of dreams, or the land of half wakefulness that we are lying in. It's the voice of our father, calling to us to once again join the land of the awake. To rise and do our chores, eat breakfast and continue with our day.
On occasion, his alarm doesn't go off or he is tempted to snuggle under the covers a little longer than normal, or he gets a service call before wake up time and isn't able to "good morning" us at the normal time. Even though it's a little thing, even though we are all perfectly capable of getting ourselves up in the morning, it throws off our routine.
Often, I am half awake, or even all the way awake before he calls me for morning time. I lay there in my bed and wait for him to call to me. My ears are tuned to his voice, to the words he is going to say and I am ready to reply.
One morning I lay in my bed, waiting, and waiting, and waiting (he'd snuggled longer than usual). As I waited I thought about it. I'm super attentive to my father's voice in the morning time, but what about my other Father? How often do I sit in silence, in stillness and wait for Him to speak to me? If I'm completely honest, not often enough. It's easier to listen for a familiar voice with my normal ears. It takes more patience to listen with the ears of my heart to another familiar voice. This makes me sad. It should not be this way.
What about you? Do you find it easier to listen with normal ears than the ears of your heart? How do you train the ears of your heart?
I think it has a lot to do with routine and practice. My normal ears are trained to hear my father's voice. It comes every morning. I expect it. I spend time with my father, so I know his voice. I think, if I want to tune the ears of my heart towards my Father, I need to make it more of my routine to listen to Him instead of fitting Him into my schedule. And, I need to expect Him to speak, to call to me.
All this thinking reminded me of a song. Here's a video. Unfortunately, I couldn't find one that was captioned. Sorry.
It's that voice, that deep, reassuring voice, that brings us all out of our world of dreams, or the land of half wakefulness that we are lying in. It's the voice of our father, calling to us to once again join the land of the awake. To rise and do our chores, eat breakfast and continue with our day.
On occasion, his alarm doesn't go off or he is tempted to snuggle under the covers a little longer than normal, or he gets a service call before wake up time and isn't able to "good morning" us at the normal time. Even though it's a little thing, even though we are all perfectly capable of getting ourselves up in the morning, it throws off our routine.
Often, I am half awake, or even all the way awake before he calls me for morning time. I lay there in my bed and wait for him to call to me. My ears are tuned to his voice, to the words he is going to say and I am ready to reply.
One morning I lay in my bed, waiting, and waiting, and waiting (he'd snuggled longer than usual). As I waited I thought about it. I'm super attentive to my father's voice in the morning time, but what about my other Father? How often do I sit in silence, in stillness and wait for Him to speak to me? If I'm completely honest, not often enough. It's easier to listen for a familiar voice with my normal ears. It takes more patience to listen with the ears of my heart to another familiar voice. This makes me sad. It should not be this way.
What about you? Do you find it easier to listen with normal ears than the ears of your heart? How do you train the ears of your heart?
I think it has a lot to do with routine and practice. My normal ears are trained to hear my father's voice. It comes every morning. I expect it. I spend time with my father, so I know his voice. I think, if I want to tune the ears of my heart towards my Father, I need to make it more of my routine to listen to Him instead of fitting Him into my schedule. And, I need to expect Him to speak, to call to me.
All this thinking reminded me of a song. Here's a video. Unfortunately, I couldn't find one that was captioned. Sorry.
Tuesday, February 22, 2011
Come, For All Things Are Now Ready
Last Sunday I was at a new church. Well, it wasn't really new, just new to me. Anyhow, since it was my first time at this particular church, and you can only attend a church for the first time once, I was really paying attention to how the church appeared to visitors (accessibility, warmth, etc). There will probably be another post about all that soon. This one though is about a specific part of the service - communion.
This particular church was celebrating communion on this particular Sunday. Since I was new to this church I was paying very close attention to what was happening during this part of the service. I wanted to know who was invited to the table and how the elements were served. Additionally, I was curious as to how they were framing communion, since it was being done at the beginning of the service, instead of after the sermon like I was accustomed to. (I had some other issues with how the service was ordered and what was/wasn't included, but that's not important now).
So I listened close. The pastor went through the standard liturgy (okay, standard to me...not necessarily standard for all church backgrounds). He welcomed all to the table who had made profession of faith in a Christian church. This answered my question as to whether I was welcome (I was). It also answered my curiosity as to whether or not baptized children were welcome (they were not). However, I still didn't know how communion would be served.
I could see the (to me) familiar trays on the table, so I assumed the bread was pre-cut and the wine/juice pre-poured, but I wasn't sure if it was going to be brought to us in the pews and passed, or if we were to come forward to receive. I listened intently. Finally he came to the end of the liturgy and said "Come for all things are now ready".
I stood up. He had said "come". At WTS, when the worship leader says "come for all things are now ready" it means it's time to to come forward and receive the elements. This Sunday however, I quickly realized that "come" didn't actually mean "come". It actually meant "sit and wait for the table to come to you". It cause me to spend some time thinking about it (hence why you are getting a blog post).
How many times have I sat in church during a communion service and heard the words "Come for all things are now ready" and let them simply wash over me?
What message does it send when the Preacher says "come" and we all sit? If the Preacher is speaking for G-d, then it could be said that G-d himself is saying "come" and our response is to sit and wait for it to come to us...
What does it say to visitors or people unfamiliar with our church tradition? If they, like me, were listening to the words of the Preacher to try and figure out what to expect, how does this dissonance sound to them? It seems to me that we might be sending a message, that we as Christians, don't actually mean what we say. If we don't mean what we say when we talk about simple actions such as coming to the table, how can we be trusted to mean what we say when we talk about more complex and, in some ways abstract, things such as salvation?
I don't say this just in criticism of the church that I attended, but in questioning of many church traditions. I realize that it might not be practical in all church settings for congregants to actually come forward to receive the elements. I just wonder if in those situations we would be wise to change our worship words to better reflect the reality of what is actually happening in our churches.
This particular church was celebrating communion on this particular Sunday. Since I was new to this church I was paying very close attention to what was happening during this part of the service. I wanted to know who was invited to the table and how the elements were served. Additionally, I was curious as to how they were framing communion, since it was being done at the beginning of the service, instead of after the sermon like I was accustomed to. (I had some other issues with how the service was ordered and what was/wasn't included, but that's not important now).
So I listened close. The pastor went through the standard liturgy (okay, standard to me...not necessarily standard for all church backgrounds). He welcomed all to the table who had made profession of faith in a Christian church. This answered my question as to whether I was welcome (I was). It also answered my curiosity as to whether or not baptized children were welcome (they were not). However, I still didn't know how communion would be served.
I could see the (to me) familiar trays on the table, so I assumed the bread was pre-cut and the wine/juice pre-poured, but I wasn't sure if it was going to be brought to us in the pews and passed, or if we were to come forward to receive. I listened intently. Finally he came to the end of the liturgy and said "Come for all things are now ready".
I stood up. He had said "come". At WTS, when the worship leader says "come for all things are now ready" it means it's time to to come forward and receive the elements. This Sunday however, I quickly realized that "come" didn't actually mean "come". It actually meant "sit and wait for the table to come to you". It cause me to spend some time thinking about it (hence why you are getting a blog post).
How many times have I sat in church during a communion service and heard the words "Come for all things are now ready" and let them simply wash over me?
What message does it send when the Preacher says "come" and we all sit? If the Preacher is speaking for G-d, then it could be said that G-d himself is saying "come" and our response is to sit and wait for it to come to us...
What does it say to visitors or people unfamiliar with our church tradition? If they, like me, were listening to the words of the Preacher to try and figure out what to expect, how does this dissonance sound to them? It seems to me that we might be sending a message, that we as Christians, don't actually mean what we say. If we don't mean what we say when we talk about simple actions such as coming to the table, how can we be trusted to mean what we say when we talk about more complex and, in some ways abstract, things such as salvation?
I don't say this just in criticism of the church that I attended, but in questioning of many church traditions. I realize that it might not be practical in all church settings for congregants to actually come forward to receive the elements. I just wonder if in those situations we would be wise to change our worship words to better reflect the reality of what is actually happening in our churches.
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