‘Colds are even more common as lockdown eases,’ says a headline.
When we snuffle our way through winter, we are suffering from the common cold. A Londoner may yearn for the open air on Wimbledon Common or any other common in England; there are plenty of them. From time to time, disputes about grazing on common land and proposals to enclose it demonstrate the esteem in which commons are held.
Shakespeare made some use of this word. ‘Discuss unto me; art thou officer? Or art thou base, common and popular?’ So did Marvell, speaking of the execution of Charles I: ‘He nothing common did or mean Upon that memorable scene.’
We have a House of Commons. We may enjoy membership of a common room. We hope we display common sense. It is common knowledge that aircraft-carriers cost a lot of money.
All these examples of language at work have overtones of what is ordinary. When something ceases to be common, it becomes extraordinary. Usually there is a less than adulatory flavour about the word. It means easily available – or even worthless. We say that plants are common and we think of privet or holly. When we say that something is out of the ordinary, we mean it is unusual as opposed to being common or garden. Camellia is not all that usual; it has a reputation; it is difficult to grow successfully.
Words are like chameleons. They change with the environment. In the Book of Common Prayer we find that baptism should be ‘ministered in the vulgar tongue’. In the days when the BCP was new-minted the word ‘vulgar’ simply meant common. It was not a pejorative. This comes of course from days when the vernacular was vulgar, that is, in common use compared with the Latin of scholarly discussion. We may shudder at the thought of ‘vulgar worship’ or ‘vulgar prayer’ but we should be conscious of the issues involved. There is always a risk of being ‘base, common and popular’.
And ‘popular’ is a strong ingredient of the word ‘common’ When we talk of a plant (say ground elder) or a mineral (say bauxite), we mean it is found everywhere. This kind of content keeps the word close to ‘catholic’ or ‘universal’ at one end of the spectrum.
We have to bear in mind how this word is used in the everyday world when we adopt it as a component of our Christian terminology. It may seem out of place, uncommon that is, to use it to describe a form of worship. If we put it alongside ‘catholic’, it shows its true colours. Since ‘common’ means universal, found everywhere, the two words might seem to be interchangeable. But ‘catholic’ has other overtones – of authority, hierarchy, monopoly that give it a special cachet. Could we ever speak of the common Church just as C.S. Lewis spoke of mere Christianity?
I wonder if the back-room boys who gave us ‘Common Worship’ might conceivably be asking themselves now and then whether they made a good choice of title?
SUNDERLAND MINSTER
Sunderland is a city. It has a minster. The Provost is Stuart Bain. It has a number of Iranians in its congregation and they are provided with Farsi Bibles and Farsi orders of service. Worldwide there are 30 million Farsi-speakers and we get words like ‘pyjama’, ‘khaki’ and ‘lilac’ from them. Iran used to be called Persia, of course. There is or used to be a stylish pub in Longfleet, Poole called ‘The Shah of Persia’. I believe it still bears that name.
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