Words by their very utterance can either separate or unite. A sword can divide, and a sword can unite. Excalibur is a symbol of a sword that united a people toward defeating evil. The the two words, "word" and "sword" are unalterably tied to one another as if both were two opposite edges of the same blade. It is interesting that if you add the letter "s" to the word "word", you get "sword." The representation of swords in history have by their use been dividers. Cultures have defeated other cultures in the dialectic of history in the use of this piece of metal, shaped to a point and sharpened on the edges to cut, maim and pierce armor and eventually skin. Words also can be used for their piercing quality, their cutting quality and their destructive capability in dividing brother from brother, father from son, mother from daughter, and so on.
The utterance itself is the use of a unique irreplaceable breath, or the unique set of strokes of a writing instrument. The reading of the words is interrupted by the space between them and one can wonder of the meaning of each of the spaces and their relative value if in fact the sentences uttered were just to stop before the sentences were completed. How many wars could have been prevented if someone would have just stopped short of uttering a complete thought meant to be understood in their full destructive course, or meant for some other purpose, but in fact, were misunderstood for their full destructive potential.
There is something about human language which calls out, which begs the question, "why do we not pay any attention to the spaces between the words and use those mysterious pauses to give pause to all the possible effects of our choice of words?" In music, some of the most powerful moments in a string of notes are the "rests" which allow the mind to contemplate all the possible notes which might follow, perhaps a poetic denouement performed in a crescendo to be followed by an even more resounding "hush." Like the eye of a hurricane, the spaces between the words we utter or write are moments to contemplate whether or not our continuation of the thought will unite or destroy, will inspire peace or hatred in the lives of those who hear or read our words.
I think of the great actors and orators who use the "pause" so well so as to recollect the wandering minds who become numb to sound. I imagine actors such as Anthony Hopkins as he played the role of Paul the Apostle some years back and later followed playing the role of C.S. Lewis in a movie called Shadowlands. In these instances, he would speak words and but more importantly, he would speak pauses as if caught breathless. Whether it was by training in technique or this is the way Hopkins processes language, it is effective in causing the listener to become reengaged in the rhythm of the thought and the sounds of the words. The silences wrap their invisible arms around an audience collecting their attention to the message and the messenger.
But there is something else about the space between the words whether in oration or written rhetoric that is almost magic. The best example of the use of the power of silence in between words and even in between distinct thoughts was Jesus of Nazareth. I imagine Jesus' rendering of the parable of the prodigal son being a prime example wherein it is in the spaces between Jesus' words where the power would lay. Space between the thought. Space between the cutting edge of the word itself in which there would be a micro moment of contemplation as well as anticipation.
We read what we see. And yet there is something to be read in the space between the words we see. Every sentence is a journey that ends somewhere and unfortunately, the somewhere may cut through to the middle of some one's heart either by intention or by lack of prudence. You may be wondering where I'm headed with all this talk of swords, words, spaces, sentences, and their power. Let me attempt to clear all this up by stating that our brains are wired to take and idea in its conception into the womb of a word, and then from the womb of the word to grow then into a "thought concept" comprising of several words, but always a string of them with the spaces between them, giving them meaning, in much the same way punctuation clarifies meaning itself. Finally, when the "concept" is ready to be born, it is born on a page or from the mouth. The born concept becomes the "baby of thought". From the baby thought, it matures into a purpose and from a purpose to an action.
That said, I suppose it can be said that more people have committed murder with the word than with the sword. So maybe Jesus should have said: "those who live by the word, will die by the word." Well, the original statement, "those who live by the sword, will die by the sword," really was meant to be, "if you use the sword to solve your problems by killing or wounding, you too will be wounded or killed by a means." So maybe Jesus could have meant: "If you kill by the word or the sword, you will be killed by the word or sword." Jesus, being the word and the sword of truth, certainly is not the means by which anyone is meant to be wounded or killed, and yet we all seem to impale ourselves upon our own words and swords by ignoring the power of what we say; and we very quickly argue in otder to "win" the day. By our attitude or our desire to prevail, we lose the opportunity for cooperative understanding of meanings that produce peace within the very words, the the silences we utter. I have to go back to the metaphor of two men in combat: The Gladiator. The strike of the sword against the oppoonent's sword may produce some result that may terminate the battle in death or a grave wound. Or, it may serve to weaken the other opponent simply by their exhaustive use of energy to make a strike that only hits a shield or misses the mark. As in the case of boxers, the most trying punch is the punch in which the pugilist misses. That kind of ineffective action takes the wind out of the attacker and renders him weaker and more vulnerable to the opponent who saves his strength for contemplated action, for prudent use of limited strength. The same is the case with the use of words. The idea of words is not to win a contest of ideas, to be come kind of temporary victor in a fight to the death. Debates render winners based upon agreed upon rules, but did "learning" take place? The sharing of ideas, words, concepts between those who initially disagree is the challenge to see what is in the spaces between the words. I imagine the space between his words to be opportunities to see that he shares spaces between his; and therefore, because of those spaces, there is room for contemplation that there is more shared between the two that cannot be seen than that which they differ with the words which can be seen or heard.
You may consider all of this esoteric. However, the above ramblings are trying to speak to the difference between what moves us to be "peacemakers" or "sowers of unrest". I am not talking about acquiescence or appeasement. I am not even talking about "compromise". But I am talking about missed opportunities to see that even our enemies share with us a root purpose that transcends our physical life and eventually our demise. Both opponents to any battle will get to that demise in one way or another, even if at different times. But taking Pascal's wager seriously, considering that our being transcends physicality, the word is more powerful than the sword in that the reverberations of their thrust outlast time and space and truly echo into eternity. It will be upon the thrusts of our words, and our ability to use the spaces between them effectively to be "peacemakers" and "healers" upon which we will be judged valiant, victors, champions or judged sycophants, purveyors of unrest, and hoarders of power in all of its forms. If you take Pascal's wager seriously, I challenge you to look it up, "google" it or ask someone. Then you may be forced to the conclusion that there will be repercussions from our not seeing words as the true currency more valuable than gold and out of which the Kingdom of Heaven can be constructed. Words and the spaces between them amount to the bricks and mortar of who we become and what dwelling place will be relegated to us in the after life.
The utterance itself is the use of a unique irreplaceable breath, or the unique set of strokes of a writing instrument. The reading of the words is interrupted by the space between them and one can wonder of the meaning of each of the spaces and their relative value if in fact the sentences uttered were just to stop before the sentences were completed. How many wars could have been prevented if someone would have just stopped short of uttering a complete thought meant to be understood in their full destructive course, or meant for some other purpose, but in fact, were misunderstood for their full destructive potential.
There is something about human language which calls out, which begs the question, "why do we not pay any attention to the spaces between the words and use those mysterious pauses to give pause to all the possible effects of our choice of words?" In music, some of the most powerful moments in a string of notes are the "rests" which allow the mind to contemplate all the possible notes which might follow, perhaps a poetic denouement performed in a crescendo to be followed by an even more resounding "hush." Like the eye of a hurricane, the spaces between the words we utter or write are moments to contemplate whether or not our continuation of the thought will unite or destroy, will inspire peace or hatred in the lives of those who hear or read our words.
I think of the great actors and orators who use the "pause" so well so as to recollect the wandering minds who become numb to sound. I imagine actors such as Anthony Hopkins as he played the role of Paul the Apostle some years back and later followed playing the role of C.S. Lewis in a movie called Shadowlands. In these instances, he would speak words and but more importantly, he would speak pauses as if caught breathless. Whether it was by training in technique or this is the way Hopkins processes language, it is effective in causing the listener to become reengaged in the rhythm of the thought and the sounds of the words. The silences wrap their invisible arms around an audience collecting their attention to the message and the messenger.
But there is something else about the space between the words whether in oration or written rhetoric that is almost magic. The best example of the use of the power of silence in between words and even in between distinct thoughts was Jesus of Nazareth. I imagine Jesus' rendering of the parable of the prodigal son being a prime example wherein it is in the spaces between Jesus' words where the power would lay. Space between the thought. Space between the cutting edge of the word itself in which there would be a micro moment of contemplation as well as anticipation.
We read what we see. And yet there is something to be read in the space between the words we see. Every sentence is a journey that ends somewhere and unfortunately, the somewhere may cut through to the middle of some one's heart either by intention or by lack of prudence. You may be wondering where I'm headed with all this talk of swords, words, spaces, sentences, and their power. Let me attempt to clear all this up by stating that our brains are wired to take and idea in its conception into the womb of a word, and then from the womb of the word to grow then into a "thought concept" comprising of several words, but always a string of them with the spaces between them, giving them meaning, in much the same way punctuation clarifies meaning itself. Finally, when the "concept" is ready to be born, it is born on a page or from the mouth. The born concept becomes the "baby of thought". From the baby thought, it matures into a purpose and from a purpose to an action.
That said, I suppose it can be said that more people have committed murder with the word than with the sword. So maybe Jesus should have said: "those who live by the word, will die by the word." Well, the original statement, "those who live by the sword, will die by the sword," really was meant to be, "if you use the sword to solve your problems by killing or wounding, you too will be wounded or killed by a means." So maybe Jesus could have meant: "If you kill by the word or the sword, you will be killed by the word or sword." Jesus, being the word and the sword of truth, certainly is not the means by which anyone is meant to be wounded or killed, and yet we all seem to impale ourselves upon our own words and swords by ignoring the power of what we say; and we very quickly argue in otder to "win" the day. By our attitude or our desire to prevail, we lose the opportunity for cooperative understanding of meanings that produce peace within the very words, the the silences we utter. I have to go back to the metaphor of two men in combat: The Gladiator. The strike of the sword against the oppoonent's sword may produce some result that may terminate the battle in death or a grave wound. Or, it may serve to weaken the other opponent simply by their exhaustive use of energy to make a strike that only hits a shield or misses the mark. As in the case of boxers, the most trying punch is the punch in which the pugilist misses. That kind of ineffective action takes the wind out of the attacker and renders him weaker and more vulnerable to the opponent who saves his strength for contemplated action, for prudent use of limited strength. The same is the case with the use of words. The idea of words is not to win a contest of ideas, to be come kind of temporary victor in a fight to the death. Debates render winners based upon agreed upon rules, but did "learning" take place? The sharing of ideas, words, concepts between those who initially disagree is the challenge to see what is in the spaces between the words. I imagine the space between his words to be opportunities to see that he shares spaces between his; and therefore, because of those spaces, there is room for contemplation that there is more shared between the two that cannot be seen than that which they differ with the words which can be seen or heard.
You may consider all of this esoteric. However, the above ramblings are trying to speak to the difference between what moves us to be "peacemakers" or "sowers of unrest". I am not talking about acquiescence or appeasement. I am not even talking about "compromise". But I am talking about missed opportunities to see that even our enemies share with us a root purpose that transcends our physical life and eventually our demise. Both opponents to any battle will get to that demise in one way or another, even if at different times. But taking Pascal's wager seriously, considering that our being transcends physicality, the word is more powerful than the sword in that the reverberations of their thrust outlast time and space and truly echo into eternity. It will be upon the thrusts of our words, and our ability to use the spaces between them effectively to be "peacemakers" and "healers" upon which we will be judged valiant, victors, champions or judged sycophants, purveyors of unrest, and hoarders of power in all of its forms. If you take Pascal's wager seriously, I challenge you to look it up, "google" it or ask someone. Then you may be forced to the conclusion that there will be repercussions from our not seeing words as the true currency more valuable than gold and out of which the Kingdom of Heaven can be constructed. Words and the spaces between them amount to the bricks and mortar of who we become and what dwelling place will be relegated to us in the after life.
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