My mind is on language and religion tonight, and I thought the musings might be worth posting. Maybe some Christians or recent deconverts (or those guys in the middle) will find it interesting.

I suppose I want to illustrate how important I think it is to religion to use a specific register---a special, religion-specific terminology and manner of speaking---to communicate within and about the religion. More importantly, I want to point out how that language helps establish the "reality" of that religion. (But there is surely much more to be said about the importance language plays in religion than I will say here.)

I'll preface by asking you to think of the book/film The Lord of the Rings. Anyone who is familiar with the series is probably aware that Tolkien took a special sort of pride in naming things in the LOTR universe. Every character, place, and creature has a name with a magical, other-wordly sort of sound. Consider, though, how magical the story would seem if we replaced names like Mordor and Isengard with names like New Morrington and Isenberg. How does that affect your perception of the LOTR universe? And suppose we changed the names Frodo Baggins and Aragorn to Frederick Buckley and Aaron. How does that affect your perception of the LOTR universe?

The same effect is pervasive in religion. Just as a special language is important to maintaining the "reality" of the LOTR universe, a similar sort of special language is important to maintaining the "reality" of religious experience.

First, let's ask ourselves: what is the most popular version of the Bible sold in America? Without a doubt, it is the King James Version, and this is not by coincidence. One only needs to read one sentence from the KJ to see that the English of the KJ is not the same language we use in casual conversation. It's sprinkled with antique but delightful-sounding words: thees and thous and shall nots. It's glazed with archaic syntactical constructions: hallowed be thy name. Tolkien, eat your heart out!

It's obvious why this version is so popular. God is supposed to be beautiful and old. He naturally needs a beautiful and old way of speaking. What else but the very language of the Renaissance? It's almost as if Christians are subconsciously thinking: "If God spoke to me audibly, would he sound more like me and my friends, or more like Shakespeare? Hm. Shakespeare, certainly!" But this only explains why the KJ is preferred in the first place. Now that it has preferred status, indoctrination through generations cements this type of language as "God language" in the minds of young Christians, and it soon becomes common knowledge. But of course God talks like that! And I say that with no hint of holier-than-thou-art feelings: when I was a Christian, I lived with this same assumption. It never would have occurred to me that I was mesmerizing myself (hypnotizing myself?) with the King James's antiquity. I found that I strongly disliked modern translations. No doubt many Christians still compartmentalize their religion with the help of the same linguistic curtain.

But lets step outside the bible and into the realm of prayer. In Christianity, it's customary to end every prayer with the AMEN. But if we look closely, we can see this is another insance of special language---magic language, if you will---that is being incorporated into what we could safely describe as a ritual. And again, this lends itself to maintaining the "reality" of prayer. But what does AMEN actually mean? It's a word, after all, just like any other word. As it turns out, it's just a word borrowed from Hebrew that more or less means "truthfully" or "so it is". In fact, when the Old English speaking Anglo-Saxons prayed, they would only sometimes end with the word AMEN. They were just as likely to end prayer with the word SOTHLICE. Notice the similarity to SOOTH, as in "Forsooth!" They were saying AMEN at the end of their prayers, but they were doing it in their native tongue. Imagine saying a prayer in contemporary Modern English and ending it this way: "Father, forgive me for my sins, and look over my family this week and keep them safe. Truthfully." And then you're done.

Doesn't that feel strange? The prayer somehow feels... incomplete. If only we had some kind of magic word that indicated the end of a ceremony of some kind...

We could also analyze the very name of Jesus in the same fashion. Is there anything special about the name Jesus? It's unlikely that you could apply for a job in the united states and encounter a 40-something white male co-worker who introduces himself as Jesus Thompson or Jesus Miller. Yet, it wouldn't be at all strange to encounter a Mexican man named Jesus (hay-soos). Jump to Hebrew, and you'll discover the name rendered Yeshua. But that name seems a little familiar...

Joshua.

Now let's compare. Antiquated language that maintains the "reality" of religion versus the same thing in modern language that we all use every day. Antiquated language first:

"Thank you, precious Jesus, for this glorious day and for blessing me and my family for another week. But forgive me for my sins, precious Jesus, and help me to more strongly resist temptation. All this I ask, and in Jesus' name I pray: Amen."

"Josh, you're great. Thanks for making it such a nice day and for all the great stuff you did for us this week. But I'm sorry for those crappy things I said and did. (Did I mention I think you're great?) Call me out if I start acting like a jerk, okay? I normally wouldn't ask, but I trust you. I mean it."

Roughly the same prayer. I've met many Christians who even LIKE praying in a more conversational tone. (Usually Youth Ministers and their victims. Jesus is THE DUDE! High-five, guys!) But even they will sprinkle on a little bit of antique vocabulary or syntax. They only want to remove the "grandma's church" kind of stuffiness. They don't want to remove the magic.

My advice to Christians, especially those that are flirting with skepticism in any degree: Pay special attention to how language might be manipulating you in religious contexts.