The seminary I attend has a stated "inclusive language" policy which generates a certain level of controversy. It states:
Believing that God creates and redeems humanity by “word” and “word made flesh,” the MTS community takes seriously the agency of language within the classroom and the sanctuary. The use of inclusive language in writing and speaking expresses respect for all persons. It promotes reconciliation and harmony while affirming every member of the human family as no less than a child of God. The practice of using diverse and inclusive names, pronouns, and metaphors with reference to God in classroom discussion, worship, and in written assignments honors the expanding theological perspectives of participants in the MTS community while recognizing that the fullness of God is beyond all human naming.
Most students I talk to read this as "don’t use masculine pronouns when refering to God." My assumption was that the purpose of this policy is to avoid offending those who are sensitive to gender issues. While that may be a part of it, I now realize that the issue is much broader and deeper than that. I have been engaged in the “inclusive language” discussion for several years now, most recently with the release of the TNIV. So for the most part, the discussion for me has been mostly academic and only marginally theological, as I never could quite seem to connect the use of language to a theological paradigm.
That changed a few years ago however, when my daughter asked me a very interesting question. She wanted to know why Chicken Little could not have been a girl. After watching a new movie, she wanted to know why the main character had been depicted as a male instead of a female. The gender of the character was not integral to the story, or so I thought, but obviously it made a difference to her. That simple question caused me to reevaluate my assumptions concerning language. It forced me to admit that maybe there was something I was missing.
For my daughter, the gender of the fictitious character, Chicken Little, obviously had a symbolic meaning. That symbolism had very little to do with whether the sky was falling and everything to do with how she views the world in which she lives. Getting a glimpse of this perspective through her eyes helped me to see this discussion in terms that are much more indicative of “inclusion versus exclusion” and much less about gender. The discussion then, takes a decidedly theological turn. Language itself may not be theological, but it is obvious that the way we communicate theological ideas is through language, so understanding the ways in which this theological language can and will be interpreted by the hearer should be a primary concern.
Aquinas stated that “words are used of God and creatures in an analogical way” (Hodgson, 71). This fluid, ever evolving dynamic, that exists as an analogical expression between the symbol and what it points to, creates a significant dilemma for those of us who attempt to speak concerning God. How do we form our conversation such that the possibility of marginalizing certain listeners is diminished? How do I speak to my daughter in such a way that the God who is being revealed to me can then be revealed to her in a liberating and life-transforming way? Especially when the symbols that mean something to me may mean absolutely nothing to her, or worse, may mean something totally different.
I can’t begin to say that I’m anywhere near arriving at an answer to the previous questions, but I am beginning to see how deeply “theological” the use of language can be. Tillich said:
Whatever we say about that which concerns us ultimately, whether or not we call it God, has symbolic meaning. It points beyond itself while participating in that to which it points. (Tillich, 45)
Often times, as in the case with my daughter, on the surface, the discussion has nothing to do with theology and less still about what “concerns us ultimately”, but the language we use nevertheless conveys something about who we are and more importantly who we experience our creator to be. This is especially important for those of us who wish to speak a fresh word of hope into the lives of those we meet. It becomes increasingly important for us to utilize those symbols that remind people that liberation, reconciliation, and empowerment are very real possibilities, while at the same time avoiding those symbols that serve as reminders of oppression, marginalization, and even violence.
I may now have more questions than I have answers, but I think I can safely say that the “sky isn’t falling” as is commonly declared when the use of “inclusive language” is suggested.
Isn’t it interesting how our children can lead us to reexamine what we hold so dearly. Bless your daughter.
My kids have caused me to reexamine a lot of things also.
revabi
October 17th, 2006
interesting thoughts. Thanks “out of the mouth of babes”
Lorna
October 31st, 2006
Thanks for the post.
I ran into the language barrier at Drew. I felt that the best way to approach the issue of language was to use male, female and non-gendered language interchangably. On a couple of occasions, the use of the male was singled out as a violation of policy, even though I used feminine language in the same paper. Now I live in a very traditional place and find that I can use masculine and neutral language. Feminine language would earn me an earful. I am ready to introduce feminine language for God soon…but it will probably not be in a sermon.
Christopher
November 17th, 2006
I also faced the inclusive language issue at seminary in Tulsa Oklahoma. At first I was disturbed but went on the learn the grace surrounding using inclusive language of all people and of God. I like Christopher cannot use feminine language concerning God but look forward to the day when I will have the courage to openly express my convictions and my leanings regardless of the fallout.
Earl
January 2nd, 2007