We began this series on PoMo with the claim that PostModernism was more than literary criticism, more than a Humpty-Dumptian mastery over words. We considered PoMo science, PoMo religion, PoMo sex, PoMo economics, but now we return once again to where we began, PoMo language.

Talking about language is as about as recursive as one can get. I am reminded of the way words are defined in a dictionary, here are 6 definitions from the Concise Oxoford Dictionary of Current English:

"odor"	"A smell; scent; aroma"
"smell"	"Something that is smelled; odor; scent"
"scent"	"1. an odor. 2. the sense of smell. 3. a perfume. 4. an odor left by an animal, by which it is tracked"
"aroma"	"A pleasant odor; fragrance"
"fragrant"	"Having a pleasant odor"
"perfume"	"1. an aroma; fragrance. 2. a substance producing a pleasing odor, as a liquid extract of the scent of flowers"

And if you didn't know the meaning of those 6 words before you looked them up, you won't know the meaning after. 

But how else can a dictionary be written? One might be able to put in pictures of flowers, but scent? (I can see it now, scratch-n-sniff dictionaries.) So how does any child learn the meaning of a word? Yet at the age of 18 months babies are learning nouns at the rate of 9 per day! As I have repeatedly stressed, that there is nothing common about the common tongue, that recursion signifies the holy, and that the gift of speech is the imago Dei.

So the attitude toward language, the use of language, and the abuse of language are all directly related to one's view of God. The polytheist reveres language, and has rituals with incantations and special words. The materialist despises all holy things except language, believing that truth resides in propositions about matter, in a language he cannot explain. The dualist divorces truth from matter, forbidding pictures in the dictionaries of the mind, making language an orphan of the war. But it is in PostModernism that the orphan returns as a mercenary of another lord, as a weapon in the hands of a dfferent god.

David Mills at Touchstone laments the attempt of preachers to "translate" concise theological words into "relevant" everyday speech. So much blood and ink has been spilled throughout the centuries over the proper definitions of theological words that seeing them discarded or abused in the pulpit riles him as much, I imagine, as the profane use of the sacred elements of the liturgy. But more significantly, Mills sees the problem as the dictionary problem, of trying to define unfamiliar words by using familiar ones.
Look carefully at the objection to relevance. Relevance is seen as an immediate response of the listener, and some theological words just don't evoke any recognition much less response. Mills goes on to say that all areas of life have specialized vocabulary, from oven dials with "broil" and "bake" to the difference between "stocks" and "bonds". If we need precision, we need to take the time to learn the jargon, and not assume instant comprehension.

Therefore the emphasis on relevance as an immediate response is an emphasis on action, on process. This is the role of the demagogue, of the rabble rouser, of Shakespeare's Mark Antony calling out "Friends, Romans, countrymen, lend me your ears!" Antony cares not about facts or even the comprehension of facts, as long as it moves the people to action. The revivals of the 19th century were the same way, with preachers graded on their ability to bring sinners down the sawdust trail. This is the recent Senate circus surrounding a bill whose actual contents were secondary to the goal of passage (being asked to vote on an amendment that had not yet been written).

All these examples demonstrate that the content can become prisoner to the process. Then a word is valued not for its intrinsic meaning, but for its extrinsic effects. If, like St Paul who started a riot by shouting "resurrection", I can start a riot by shouting "discrimination", then we have rediscovered the power of the spoken word, of the curse. For a curse is not valued for what it means, but for what it does (or why are most curses so hyperbolic?). Antony's speech delivered an eloquent curse that destroyed Brutus. Revival preachers cursed their congregations into the vicinity of burning sulfur. And the Senate is consumed by an inelegant curse called "The Immigration Bill".

With the rediscovery of the curse, PoMo language has come full circle to the dark rites of polytheism.

But I am too morbid, for the flip side of cursing is blessing. If words can provoke negative actions, they can also "provoke unto love and good works". While one may ask a priest to curse one's enemies, it is still more common to ask for blessings upon one's self.

Now mind you, we smile indulgently at the place in the wedding ceremony where the priest "blesses" the pair, not believing that anything special has happened that could not, say, be administered by the county clerk. And the opposite of "getting the parent's blessing" is apparently "eloping", rather than, say, "receiving the parent's cursing". We just don't take blessing very seriously in this Modernist age.  Or do we?

Whenever we use language intended to improve our lot in life, we are blessing. "How are you?" is not a request for medical information, but for a blessing: "Fine, thank you". No information has flowed in that interchange, except the fact that it occurred at all. It is the process that is important, and it is the blessing of the process that was sought.

So it is with the "ethics column" in the NYT. The anguished letter writers are seeking a blessing upon some action they are engaged or soon-to-be engaged in, and the columnist obliges with some words to soothe the troubled soul. The columnist cares little for the particulars of the writer's problem, only for the providence of relief, of balm. The process of blessing is more important than the facts. Now mind you, no one makes these people write the NYT, they do so willingly, earnestly, perhaps desperately, seeking affirmation in their harsh and judgmental work environment, in their cool and transient personal transactions, in their strained relatives and family arrangements.

So when an investigative reporter discovered that many employees had broken company regulations concerning donations to political causes, including the aforementioned ethics columnist, it naturally evoked his response. (Donations to MoveOn.org are no different than that to the Boy Scouts or the Catholic Church, which are not prohibited.)  The opportunity for satire was just too inviting, so here is Douglas Kern in full.

What then is Kern saying? That "ethics" is a process of self-vindication, a PoMo blessing, whereas "virtue" is conformity to an external standard. But Kern misses the mark when he calls this columnist's efforts "stupid", for blessings have ever been sought, and will ever be sought by a race that bears the stain of guilt. Nor are blessings of any sort without effect, whether polytheist, materialist or PostModernist, for many jobs have been won with the blessings of the Grey Lady, and without it, many lost.

It is not the stupidity of a PoMo blessing, that makes Kern advise another job, but the danger of a PoMo blessing, for as Paris discovered, one god's blessing is another god's curse.