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The Power of Words
Sermon by Rev. Sarah Buteux
for Sunday, July 14, 2002
Scripture: Matthew 13: 24-30, 36-43
Esau was an idiot. Perhaps a good-natured and innocent idiot, but an idiot all the same.
Now I want you to know that I labored over that first line because 'idiot' seemed a rather inappropriate word to use in church while referring to the child of a blessed patriarch; but in all honesty, I really believe that he was. Esau no doubt knew the story of his birth, because his twin brother's name was one result. Jacob supposedly came out of his mother's womb hot on the heels of Esau- so hot he was actually grasping his baby brother by the ankle. While Esau was named for his appearance, because he was red and hairy, Jacob was named for his very first action. His name literally means, "he takes by the heel", or more to the point, "he supplants." If I were Esau I would have been very wary from the start and a little ticked off at the parents for having chosen such accurate and possibly prophetic names. And I certainly would have been more careful when it came to talks of birthrights and blessings.
You see, in the story of Jacob and Esau, words shape the reality of the brothers' lives. Words have the power to subvert tradition, foil the intentions of individuals, and break up the bonds of family. And the story of Jacob and Esau is not just a story about the power of words, it is a story that continually plays with words- the names of Jacob and Esau being a prime example. Hebrew is a rich language, full of double meanings and close spellings, which the author of Genesis utilized to great effect. Names of people, places, and objects are used to foreshadow events, reinforce the workings of providence, and help us, with something as short and simple as a name, to sum up the innate nature of any character within the story.
Let me give you an another example. In the Hebrew tradition the birthright referred "to the extra rights that normally go to the eldest son; leadership of the family and a double share of the inheritance" (NRSV notes Genesis 25:31-34). The blessing was only a gift of words, but it was thought to be much more valuable. The Hebrews believed that a blessing was prophetic in nature. A man, once blessed by his father, carried the blessing within him until the day he passed the blessing on to his chosen son. It could only be given once, and seems to have been a mystical transfer of divine favor from one person to another. The blessing passed down through Abraham to Isaac was a particularly powerful one because Abraham had received his directly from the Lord. Now, the Hebrew words for "birthright" and "blessing" are extremely similar: "bekorati" meaning birthright, and "birkati" meaning blessing. When Jacob convinced the famished Esau to sell his "bekorati" or birthright, the similarity in words alerts us to the fact that he is one step closer to obtaining the "birkati" or blessing, and thereby running off with the entire inheritance that Isaac had to offer-which in the end is exactly what Jacob did.
Now, in all honesty, I always thought Esau was joking, exaggerating, and just being careless. I don't believe he was really dying from hunger when he came home from hunting, and he probably didn't either. And I'm sure that when he sold his birthright for the bowl of lentil stew, he wasn't being entirely serious. But Jacob chose his words carefully and spoke in earnest. He made Esau swear to the exchange. Jacob understood the power of words and took them extremely seriously. He seems to have understood that words don't necessarily have to be uttered with thoughtfulness or sincerity to have an effect. Words, in and of themselves, are extremely powerful.
Think back to the beginning, if you will, to the time "before the before" as the ancient Celts would have phrased it. Remember the very first words of the Gospel of John, "In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God. He was in the beginning with God. All things came into being through him, and without him, not one thing came into being. What has come into being in him was life, and the life was the light of all people." (John 1:1-4). Within the gospel of John, the Word is life, the ultimate generative power.
Or call to mind the beginning of our Earth when "God said, 'Let there be light, and there was light". God said it, and it was. When "God called the light Day, and the darkness . . . Night. . . there was evening and there was morning, the first day." God spoke again and by his word created land and sky and sea out of the formless deep. By the power of his word he created vegetation, the sun, the moon and the stars. He created creatures of land, sea, and air. And finally, as it says in the scriptures, "God created humankind in his image, in the image of God he created them; male and female he created them."
The very first book of the Bible affirms that we, as men and women, are created in the image of God. And therefore, within our words there lies the very power of creation. That same breath that set the universe in motion, brought time into being, and animated our Earth flows in and out of us, minute by minute, and it is immensely powerful.
Words are also like seeds. Jesus' Parable of the Sower resonates so deeply with us because the correspondence between our being, our mind and soul, and soil is so apt. In today's parable, Jesus is talking about the life expectancy of "the words of the kingdom" which are seeds of truth. But all words, whether they are true or not, have the potential to lodge in us and grow, just as seeds have the potential to lodge and grow in the earth.
Take a moment to think about how the words of family and friends affected you as you were growing up. If you had parents who were encouraging and supportive, it most likely gave you strength, courage, and a strong sense of self. If your friends were supportive as well, then you were made to feel increasingly confident and at ease in your environment. But none of us grew up in a perfectly supportive family, and many of us had friends and family who loved us but could still at times be cruel or thoughtless. In fact, if we are honest, we often say the very worst things to the people we love the most. I think that in general, if we think back through our lives, we can all remember moments in time where the words of others shaped us for good or for ill. I think we can't underestimate the power of words to create and shape reality, just as they do in the story of Jacob and Esau. And we can't underestimate the ability of words, whether they are good and true or evil and false, to lodge deep within our consciousness and grow to become a part of us.
Let me give you an example from my own life. From a very early age I loved to read. Probably because of this, people always labeled me as smart. All through elementary school I believed in this image of myself, and by 6th grade I remember declaring that when I was older I was going to go to Harvard and learn Latin of all things. Then I got to Junior High, the wilderness years so to speak, and the social and educational environment was so damaging that I lost all that confidence. I began to believe that I was some sort of social reject- stupid, ugly, and unlovable. My grades plummeted almost immediately, and throughout Junior High and even through most of High School I remained a below-average student. In fact, High School was such a miserable experience that I finally gave up and enrolled in the community college in our town. My grades were so low that I was afraid I wouldn't get into college at all after my senior year. I guess I figured that the community college was probably the best I could do, and if I was lucky and worked hard it would be a good step toward a possible acceptance to a state school in the future.
Well the community College might not really have been the best I could do, but it was certainly the best decision I ever made. I was given a chance to prove myself in my first course on "Philosophy of Religion". The environment was so supportive that I found myself speaking up in class again without fear. Once again I wanted to read and write and learn. I did so well that they enrolled me in what they called the mentor/talented student honors program. Every time I made a mistake or began to doubt my ability, my mentor was there with an encouraging word. My fellow students urged me on, and after two years I found myself at a luncheon being courted by Smith College representatives. Up until that day I had never even heard of Smith College. And strangely enough, my 6th grade prophecy eventually came true. After Smith I found myself at Harvard Divinity School, and yes, I took Latin.
I don't in any way share that story to brag about my education, I share it because so much of my educational path was shaped and influenced by the words of others. The early years were positive ones of growth, because I had a great deal of encouragement from my family. That warm glow you feel when someone encourages you and believes in you is just like the glow of the sun on a fertile seed. The middle years were so difficult for me because the negative words of my peers landed in the soil of my heart and I believed them and let them grow up like horrible choking weeds. It took the support of all the students and professors at my community college to help me get back in touch with the truths my family had been sharing all along, and their words of encouragement gave me the strength to start weeding out my garden. The support and encouragement of others meant that I could breathe again in that community. And most importantly, I could grow.
Careless comments, cruel jokes, and gossip all involve words that can destroy people. Affirmations, encouragement, and prayers are full of words that can give new life to people. We can create heavenly relationships with people or hellish ones, simply by the words we use when we speak to one another. I recall a recent experience as I was walking into a grocery store. A father was berating his young son quite loudly and declared that if the kid didn't cut it out he was going to, "knock his block off." I thought immediately that the phrase was demeaning, cruel, and destructive for them both.
It is demeaning to refer to anyone's head as a block, first of all, but it really made him appear outrageously impatient and poor at fathering. I also knew of course, and I hope the child did, that the father wasn't really going to do it, and therefore he was undermining his authority by claiming he would do something that he wasn't really going to do. He was undermining the power of his words to effect any change in the future and he was undermining his relationship to his son, and his son's self-esteem, all in a fit of impatience. His words were quick and extremely damaging. The power of words works both ways.
And finally, let me give you one last example. Carl sent me an e-mail a few months ago with an article from the Boston Globe about our local Coolidge Corner Theater. It was the story of how this classic but run-down theater turned itself around. I would like to share with you some direct quotes from the article, written by Loren King. It begins:
"When the Coolidge Corner Theatre's new marquee is lighted in a gala Ceremony tonight, bringing a touch of old-time movie palace glamour to the venerable neighborhood art house, it will mark the symbolic rebirth of a beloved institution. It was only a few years ago, after all, that the Coolidge was close to financial ruin, the theater building in disrepair, distributors and lenders howling at the door. While much of the local film community looked upon the Coolidge as a relic that had outlived its usefulness, a few believers brought it back from the brink to what it is now: both a first-run movie theater and a vibrant community arts center. The stunning neon art deco marquee . . . heralds the movie house's 'remarkable rise from the proverbial ashes,' says Michael Mayo, chairman of the . . . Board of Directors. 'It wasn't that long ago that we were digging for dimes and quarters in the backs of the seats after each program in order to pay the bills.' Mayo and others associated with the theater's turnaround say a number of steps helped change both the reality and the perception of the 70-year-old Coolidge as a noble but failing enterprise."
They began slowly, starting with "sorely needed improvements to the building. That, in turn, generated greater enthusiasm and support from patrons and philanthropists"
But most importantly (and those are my words), "there was a rethinking of how the theater-- which became a nonprofit in 1989-- presented itself. 'One of the first things I did when I came in to do publicity was put a halt to the monthly announcements that the theater was about to close,' says Marianne Lampke, who . . . began working for the Coolidge five years ago. 'It was our job as a staff to get the place in order and not depend on outsiders to do that. ... We needed to change the perception that the Coolidge was in a perpetual crisis. People don't want to be part of a sinking ship.'"
And so the staff at the Coolidge let everyone know, by their words and actions, that the theater was there to stay and would continue to be a living vibrant part of their community. And people responded in kind. The combination of working hard toward a better future and the conscious decision of the staff to speak well of that future was positively infectious. One patron declared, "The Coolidge isn't owned by a corporation. This isn't a chain being booked out of California. It's everyone's theater. We all want it to be here and be beautiful."
I need to tell you that when Carl sent me this e-mail I was at a pretty vulnerable point, and as much as I loved the idea of coming to be a part of the Cambridge Society again, I was scared that I might be making a huge mistake. Every time I told people about the challenge of raising 2 million dollars at my first parish, they would turn a little white and halfheartedly wish me well. I needed to hear these words and I immediately wrote back to Carl and said:
"Thanks so much for the article. There are definitely some profound parallels between our church situation and theirs. What I love the most, and the greatest lesson I see for us as a church, is to get out of crisis mode. We are not on our last legs, we are a spiritual community in a beautiful building that needs to raise the funds to continue on as we are and thrive, not merely survive. I really truly have faith that we are going to be more than okay. Thanks for the encouraging words."
But the truth is, I truly believed at that moment because of Carl's encouragement, an encouragement that was continually bolstered by so many of you in the months leading up to my move here. Your words of hope gave me the courage to really come and be a part of this place.
We have a great challenge ahead of us as a church, and don't get me wrong, I do believe it will take a miracle to raise the money we need. I don't know of any ruby slippers or fairy godmothers hanging around, but I do know that we have the power of positive thinking and prayer on our side. We are as living and vibrant a member of this community as is the Coolidge Theater. They raised 1.7 million, and we need 2 million. It can be done, but we need to believe it can be, and we need to articulate that belief. I agree that "No-one wants to be part of a sinking ship" and I firmly believe, and I think you do too, that this ship is afloat and will remain so. I want you to know that over 100 people came through his church while I was here Thursday. 77 were here Saturday night for the Spiritual art show, and Lars, how many do we have here today?
I believe we are here to stay, and we need to articulate that belief and believe in its power. We also need to roll up our sleeves and continue the good work we have begun. You can see the improvements all around you. People notice when they come in that the plaster is no longer cracked, the walls are freshly painted, and that our parishioners have a gleam of hope in their eyes. There is plenty more work to do, but I do believe that if we combine our actions with faith, and speak our truths and hopes with love, that we will be here for a long time to come.
So believe in the power of words, not just to save this beautiful house of worship but to save one another. Build one another up. Never let the opportunity to share an encouraging word pass you by. You have the power to change someone's life with a word. Embrace that power; use it wisely to create a heavenly community for those around you.
Amen
Copyright 2002 by Rev. Sarah Buteux
Reference: "The lighting of the Coolidge Corner's new sign illuminates the theater's rebirth", By Loren King.
This story ran on page C1 of the Boston Globe on 5/10/2002. © 2002 Globe Newspaper Company.
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