I have been mulling over the idea of “language games” suggested by philosopher Ludwig Wittgenstein. It is not altogether clear what he meant, and there have been many interpretations. In brief, a language game is the way language is used in a particular social context that gives sense to the users of the language in communicating their common experience. To those unschooled in any particular language game, the way language is used often makes little sense, if not nonsense.
Religious uses of language are particular language games. When you first read a religious text (or hear a conversation) from a tradition unfamiliar to you, it can be very difficult to understand. It is not what words mean,” but what words mean in a particular context of mutual experience and understanding. Early anthropologists worked this out in studying new cultures. It was necessary to “go native”—to immerse yourself in the new culture and shared experience before language begins to make sense.
Often, religious language gives us richness and mystery in its imagery.
When you pass through the waters, I will be with you; and through the rivers, they shall not overwhelm you; when you walk through fire you shall not be burned, and the flame shall not consume you.
Isaiah 43:2
“I baptize you with water; but one who is more powerful than I is coming; I am not worthy to untie the thong of his sandals. He will baptize you with the Holy Spirit and fire.” John the Baptizer
Luke 3:16
Then Peter and John laid their hands on them, and they received the Holy Spirit.
Acts 8:17
Water and fire are vivid images. In Isaiah, the promise is that though the floods of water come, God’s people will not be overwhelmed; when fire ravages, God’s people will not be burned. Clearly, water and fire and imaged as destructive, powerful elements that cause fear and from which we must be rescued.
Yet, John the Baptizer promises that when the Christ appears, there will be a baptism in fire—an unquenchable fire! And this baptism of fire is connected with both a baptism in water and the coming of the Spirit of God. So good is this to be that the apostle make extra sure that the people of Samaria who had accepted the message of Christ and been baptized had also experienced the coming of the Spirit.
New Testament scholar James Dunn makes the point that it is clear that the coming of the Spirit of God is something quite tangible, something felt, that could even be seen by others. Why? Because it was clear to the apostles who had and who had not had this extraordinary experience. Put simply, the coming of the Spirit of God to a person is not only something felt on the inside, but also has an outward, visible, physically embodied expression. Others can see it. Others know it to be the case or not.
The experience of God as Spirit is connected in the passages with material elements. Not only is the Spirit described by water, fire and embodied in a bird, but is passed on from person to person through the experience of bathing in water and by the touch of the hands of the apostles. In other words, these are very sacramental passages. The visible and the invisible are closely connected. The worlds of the natural and supernatural are united in water, fire, in the presence of a simple bird, and through human touch.
I think this shows us the interconnectedness of all things. W.R. Inge (Dean of St. Paul’s in London in the first part of the twentieth century) said that,
A mystery, for the ancients, is not something inexplicable; it is something revealed, truly though inadequately, in a lower medium.
Earth is the shadow of heaven.
For me, this suggests that we can arrive at no definitive interpretation of religious language. Religious language contains a richness to be savored. Is the imagery of water good or bad, destructive or comforting? Is fire the very essence, the verve of life or is it fearfully destructive? How was Spirit embodied in the physical form of a dove? What does Spirit look like when it is given by human touch from one to another?
All of this I think is to be pondered. Let’s take the language and meditate. Take the way of the Benedictine lectio divina. That is, to use language not as a source of things to know about, but as a way of divine knowledge; a growing into God as the Spirit does her work of slow change and transformation.
+Ab. Andy