“Words Matter”
James 3:1 – 4:2; -8a, from The First Nations Version
Friends, we live in frightening times.
I realize this is not exactly news, and it’s certainly not good news, but sometimes the only way to fully open our hearts and eyes to see the way God is making out of no way is to acknowledge that the way we’re on is not getting us anywhere.
And so this morning I want to suggest that the way of telling life-threatening lies about entire groups of people is getting us nowhere—except more estranged from one another, more fearful of our neighbors, and more likely to experience war and oppression.
The way of tit-for-tat name-calling by people like us who are despairing over the hatred and manipulation behind the lies is getting us nowhere—except more embittered and cynical.
The way of mocking the politicians who speak hatred and spread lies—as if our memes and Facebook posts are funny, as if our criticisms will have any impact, as if even referring to the lies does not also have the potential of endangering entire groups of people—is getting us nowhere—except more entrapped by the things we hate.
And if you think I’m being melodramatic, . . . if you think I’m overstating things, consider that just a few days after former President Trump and his running mate J.D. Vance doubled down on their lies about legal Haitian immigrants in Springfield, Ohio, there had been more than 33 serious threats made against various institutions in that town. Consider that things there are so bad that Ohio’s Republican governor has taken to the airwaves and the op-ed pages of the New York Times to try to tell the truth.
Consider that in 2019, another era of normalized anti-immigrant and racist hate speech from our nation’s highest offices, a 21-year-old white man drove to a Walmart in El Paso, Texas, and killed 23 people and injured 22 others, virtually all of them Latino.
Consider that the same individual who said there were “very fine people” on both sides in Charlottesville, Virginia—the same individual who urged his supporters to march on the Capitol on January 6 and who regularly gaslights and refers to his political opponents as nasty, lazy, dumb, stupid, communist, Marxist, socialist, and the B-word—is now saying that Democrats’ criticisms of him are to blame for two assassination attempts against him.
Consider that no one can have it both ways—and that while it is tempting to use our words to attack the haters, it is far more productive to raise our voices on behalf of those they have attacked. Not only are we called, as followers of Jesus, to speak the truth in love, but we must also resist getting so caught up in the war of words that we become the thing we hate.
Consider, as our lesson reminds us, that “words spoken by the tongue have the power to set on fire the very circle of life itself.”
Consider, if you will, that as alienating, discouraging, and infuriating as our political speech is, this issue of what hurt words can cause is one that affects all of us every day. All our words matter—not just the political words, not just the words or memes we use on social media, but also the everyday words, the words we speak in reaction rather than loving response.
For most of us, that’s the hardest part—and I’m no exception. As much as I know in both my head and my heart that words matter, as careful as I try to be with the words I use in sermons and prayers, it’s the everyday interactions where my words get out of control. Instead of focusing on taking care with feelings, I might be focused on getting what I want out of the conversation. More likely even that that, I’m simply reacting to one thing and trying to move onto the next.
But that’s no excuse. The only consolation is that from time immemorial, carelessness with words has been a human weakness. Our words get ahead of us. Our words betray us. Our words cause pain that we usually don’t intend.
Consider that there would be no children’s saying (a taunt, really) like “sticks and stones may break my bones, but words will never hurt me” if, in fact, words didn’t sometimes hurt us quite deeply.
We could talk about how destructive gossip can be. We could talk about how harmful it is to talk about others behind their backs. We could talk about what’s wrong with triangulation—talking to a third person about a situation with a second person—and we could talk about one of the most common church communication problems, the tendency to frame our complaints or opinions (especially about the pastor or other church staff) in terms of what unidentified, and perhaps nonexistent, “people are saying.”
It’s not that healthy communication issues aren’t worthy of our time and attention.
But I think it’s more useful to focus on what is behind our hurtful words:
Speaking for myself, I know that I’m most likely to say something unkind or harsh when I’m feeling tired or rushed, frustrated or overwhelmed.
When we speak ill of others it’s often because we don’t know how, or are too afraid, to speak to them directly. We may also speak hurtful words—often unintentionally—because we ourselves are hurting, because we’re feeling insecure or threatened or alone, or because we’re not really sure what we’re feeling. We may speak unkind words in the hopes of protecting or distancing ourselves from others.
If words had the power to set things on fire 2,000 years ago, when there was no printed word, no social media or television or internet, words have the potential to be far more dangerous now.
And because it is so fundamentally human to make mistakes with our words, I would like to suggest that we focus not only on what we say to others, but also on how we respond to the words of others.
If someone else’s words spark a fire in our own heart, do we really want to respond in a way that will only fan the flames? Perhaps we could consider what feelings might have prompted the hurtful words. Perhaps we could extend grace to the speaker, saying something like, “That hurt my feelings. Is that what you intended?” Or, “That seemed to come out of nowhere? Is something bothering you?”
Better yet, we could be brave and proactive with our own words, offering words of kindness and welcome, and asking after the well-being of the other person. If we’re feeling troubled by something someone has said or done, we could go to them directly and, instead of attacking them, begin with our feelings and then ask about theirs.
We could even try so-called “positive gossip,” making a practice of telling people good things about someone else. It’s feels good, and it’s contagious.
And when we’re feeling discouraged by, and are despairing because of the hate speech and name-calling in our nation’s politics, we could choose to limit our exposure and limit our responses. Whenever we’re disgusted by something someone else has said, we can resolve to say something uplifting to someone else.
We can focus our thoughts, our prayers, our energies, and our words on, as Paul says in his letter to the Philippians, whatever is true, whatever is honorable, whatever is just, whatever is pure, whatever is pleasing, whatever is commendable, whatever is excellent.
We are wounded people living in a dangerous world, and so it’s only natural that our words will get away from us at times. Let us find positive ways to tend to our feelings. Let us encourage people who love us to hold us to high standards. Let us resolve to become safe spaces for others. Let’s give thanks for the communities of dear ones where we feel safe and can be honest with our feelings and words. Let’s be gentle with ourselves and with one another.
The wisdom that comes from the One Above, James says in our First Nations Version, is first of all pure, then peace-loving, gentle, full of mercy, and open to another’s way of seeing and thinking. People with this kind of wisdom are like trees filled with good fruit. They have open hearts with nothing to hide.
Beloveds, may we be such people. May our words honor God, who lives within all people and all creation. May we listen to others in love, and may our own words bring blessing and healing and hope.
