Taming the Tongue
page detail from Hebrews, 1611 KJV Bible (Replica Edition) photo by jch
Sermon Series “Through the Bible,” № 83, James 3:1-12
How great a forest is set ablaze by a small fire! And the tongue is a fire . . . –James 3:5-6
Many pastors say it’s difficult to preach a sermon that feels right on Mother’s Day. As I read through James, I remembered families in which harsh words were exchanged between spouses, between parents and children, and the heartache that followed. While my sermon title may not seem to fit the occasion, I pray that for someone it is the right topic for Mother’s Day.
When James wrote his letter, his concern about proper speech was deep enough that he devoted more than twenty percent of his letter to the topic of careful conversation. Martin Dibelius, in his classic commentary, describes today’s passage as the “treatise on the tongue.”
James says that no one has the ability to completely control his or her speech. In an effort to limit the damage, he tries to persuade his readers to tame their tongues. It’s not so easy to do, but James seems to believe that with God’s help, all things are possible.[1]
James’s treatise on the tongue shines a spotlight on the conduct of the teacher – “didaskolos,” the same Greek word used for rabbi. The term is used not to indicate a standing office in the church, but rather a specially gifted person. James offers a warning about taking on the role of teacher. Because so much is at stake, one who desires to teach should be especially careful about what he or she says. “For all of us make many mistakes,” he says, including himself in the judgment. “No one can tame the tongue – a restless evil, full of deadly poison.”
The tongue’s power is illustrated in a negative way by one of history’s less noble medical experiments. In the thirteenth century, Richard of Sicily, the Earl of Cornwall entertained a notion that Hebrew was a divine language, and a wild hypothesis that that this divine language would providentially emerge from children untainted by any other language. He isolated a group of infants, instructing their nurses that they were to be exposed to no speaking, no singing, no words of any kind. The person who wrote the history of this tragic experiment records the simple conclusion that the shame was Richard’s, for the children all died.[2]
But we also celebrate the life-giving power of words. If we think about it, most of us can probably identify at least one person in our lives whose words inspired us to be a better person. Somewhere along the way a parent, a grandparent, a teacher, or mentor figure spoke words that caused us to do something positive we would not have done otherwise.
Early in my ministry, I was being introduced to a congregation in fellowship hall after preaching my candidating sermon. As I met Mrs. Mossie Clevenger, she greeted me with the words, “Welcome Dr. John.” When I corrected Mossie, explaining that I was not a “doctor,” Mossie looked into my eyes with the warmest smile, and replied, “I know, but you will be someday.” Within a few years, I was enrolled in a doctoral program. While Mossie was under hospice care, I was able to express my gratitude, and thank her for believing in me, for giving me a positive label I could grow into.
Good words can bring life. Lack of good words can bring death. The words we speak may be a blessing to those who hear them, or a curse.
I have in my files the obituary of Harry Haddox, a resident of Putnam County, Ohio. Harry came from a long line of Haddoxes (Haddocks) who traced their ancestry to pre-revolutionary war Virginia, and before that to England. He worked as a carpenter, was married, had one child, a daughter.
One hot Friday night in August, an argument broke out between Harry and his wife. It couldn’t have been the first fight, but it was to be the last. Early the next morning, Harry’s body was found in his car in the driveway. He had ended his life with a .32 caliber revolver. The coroner ruled his death as suicide resulting from “domestic strife.”
This otherwise unremarkable obituary is of interest to me because Harry Haddox was my great-grandfather, my mother’s mother’s father. I remember Harry’s daughter – my Grandma Doris – as a kind woman who, in retrospect, seemed to carry with her an aura of sadness. Such things usually aren’t discussed much in families. I believe the grief was always there, just below the surface.
What ugly words were exchanged in that final conversation between Harry and his wife? No one knows. But when they found Harry in the light of dawn with a bullet in his brain, my mother’s family was changed forever.
“How great a forest is set ablaze by a small fire! And the tongue is a fire,” says James.
The poet Will Carleton wrote:
Boys flying kites haul in their white winged birds;
You can't do that way when you're flying words.
"Careful with fire," is good advice we know
"Careful with words," is ten times doubly so.
Thoughts unexpressed may sometimes fall back dead;
But God Himself can't kill them when they're said.[3]
May the words of our mouths, and the meditations of our hearts, be acceptable in your sight, O Lord, our strength and redeemer. AMEN.
NOTES
[1] Distinction made by Bo Reicke, “The Epistles of James, Peter, and Jude,” The Anchor Bible, p. 39.
[2] As related by Kent Ira Groff, in “Active Spirituality: A Guide for Seekers and Ministers,” p. 47.
[3] Will Carleton, “The First Settler’s Story.”
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