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The Game of Language
When you speak to another person, how do you know that what they hear and think is the same thing that you intended it to be?
At first, this might seem like a silly question, but when two people with two very different personal histories have a conversation, how is one to know that the other truly understands what the first is saying? w, a pivotal figure in twentieth-century philosophy, has much to say on this issue, and what he says has some interesting import for Christian life.
In his later philosophy, Wittgenstein advances the position that all human language finds its primordial origin in animal-like instinctive behaviour. He argues that language first arose in very practical situations where it was needed to coordinate certain tasks, like building a house, for example. As the language became more advanced and more capable of dealing with increasingly complicated behaviour, it developed into a more complex extension and refinement of that behaviour, all the while remaining inextricable from it.
Furthermore, as this instinctive behaviour evolved in many directions towards more specialized patterns and tasks, each pattern of behaviour gave rise to its own unique vocabulary of language by which its acting members could communicate. Wittgenstein calls these unique patterns of behaviour “forms of life” and the unique vocabulary therein a “language game.”
It might be useful to consider the example of the difficulty in communication between, let’s say, a farmhand and a theology professor. The two might have a difficult time understanding each other in matters of theology, for example, because the latter employs the heavily nuanced vocabulary required of one who does detailed scholarship, while the former employs the vocabulary required of his own trade in combination with the lived experience of his own theology. Thus, if they each stick to their own vocabulary, they probably won’t understand each other very well; nonetheless, they can in fact communicate, because of the many similarities they share in other areas (both live in the same town, both drive a car to work, etc.).
Now, how does this notion of a specialized vocabulary or language game come to bear on the living experience of a Christian community? It might be useful to consider how powerful a thing language is to begin with. It holds tremendous power, especially within the body of a sermon that is custom-tailored to deliver instruction of the deepest existential relevance to the hearer.
Here is where language must be handled with the utmost care, so that those members of the congregation who receive the words of the preacher may flourish and not be confused. For this reason it seems necessary for pastors and church leaders to be willing to play the broader “language game,” so to speak, of their congregation by attuning themselves to the linguistic nuances understood by their congregation. This way, they might avoid confusing or misleading these members, for sometimes even single words or phrases spoken by a figure of religious authority hold the potential to subvert the entire belief system of someone not prepared to hear them.
But the burden of caution doesn’t lie solely on figures of authority, for even we students, as members of our greater Christian communities, must bear in mind the dangers of carelessly throwing around our language. Indeed, what is a word of liberation or hope for us may be one of anxiety for another.
Instead, we must focus on the unity within our Christian faith – the unity that is Christ, whose presence is embedded within the language of our day-to-day practice. By playing the “language game” as such, we then might “hold fast the form of sound words, which thou hast heard of me [Paul], in faith and love which is in Christ Jesus” (2 Timothy 1:13, KJV).
When playing this “language game”, do you believe one compromises what they initially wanted to express because they must reduce or limit their vocabulary to that of a common folk? Would the message still be projected in its original form, or would something be lost? And what if we did express ourselves naturally, in the way in which we want to speak or write? Wouldn’t that then provoke people to ask questions and strive to learn more? And if it didn’t, what does that say about that particular audience? Is it more benefitial to get people thinking and questioning, rather than accepting what has been handed to them?
You say: “for sometimes even single words or phrases spoken by a figure of religious authority hold the potential to subvert the entire belief system of someone not prepared to hear them.” But why not entice and encourage this questioning and examining of one’s belief system? Is it not benefitial for us to constantly be assessing where we stand with ourselves, with God, and in this world?
Carl, I hope you are the Carl I once knew in high school. I’m glad to see you are writing and voicing your opinions. I remember you as being a strong writer, and person in your mind and faith. It would be nice to catch up. Wishing you well, Teiya.