The top man in football has been caught using outdated and offensive language. We have to beware lest we find ourselves in the same pickle. The customary use of words may be outlawed overnight; we often use words that have associations of which we are happily unaware. We should be careful about our use of the word ‘left’, remembering that its Latin equivalent is ‘sinister’ and that the right-handed majority of our fellow-citizens are quite happy to ignore the problems we create for ten per cent of the population who are left out.
We all have names. So do wild flowers and trees. Our pets have their given names. As a class of animals they also have generic names. Things being what they are, names can change. A name is often a misnomer. We call a footpath a pavement, even if it is hardcore with a top dressing of asphalt. We use the word ‘pen’ freely without acknowledging that we are utilising part of a bird to describe a ball-point or a writing implement equipped with a nib. All in all the naming of parts as in the poem of that name is a chancy business. A nut and bolt have come a long way since they meant a fruit and arrow.
Names are tricky. The word ‘dog’ is commonly used of a male or female animal. But we single out a female by the word ‘bitch’, which develops other overtones in common use. The case is different with the word ‘duck’. This too indicates a male or female bird but we single out the male with the word ‘drake’. The usage is haphazard and, on the face of it, inexplicable but we get along with the words regardless.
Religious language is not exempt. We sit in a pew in church. The fact that the word comes ultimately from the Greek word for foot is neither here nor there but to use the customary word is to condone discomfort. Worship is irretrievably connected with Spartan seating. How many patrons would visit a cinema if such seating were on offer? The word ‘missionary’ has been banished; it is seen as a token of imperial thoughtlessness. Instead the awkward neologism ‘missional’ has been foisted upon us. The word ‘rector’ comes ultimately from a word meaning ruler. With collaboration a prime virtue, such a remembered association is painful. We used to sing hymns when worshipping. We now sing songs. The word ‘hymn’ has, presumably, incurred the odium of being old-fashioned but it means the same as it always has done. In broader terms we retain the label ‘Church of England’ but it is not difficult to envisage a day when a disestablished institution becomes labelled ‘the English Episcopal Church’ to join its sister in Scotland.
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