And the Word was God

This week, it was my turn to lead our bible reflection. We usually reflect on the following Sunday's gospel, but, it being Christmas, I probably had a choice of readings, and it may seem strange that I opted for the prologue of John: but I love this reading. 

I love it for its mystery and complexity. I also love it because, as a lover of language and someone passionate about words, God being identified as the word deeply appeals to me. It is a text so rich and deep and complex that of course we cannot unpack it fully in a short space of time so I am just going to focus on that single word, the word.

The original Greek word in the text is logos, and I have commonly heard it said that “the word” is an over simplified translation of a word that holds much deeper meanings within it. In some ways, I would take issue with that, because I think “word” also holds complexities within it: but the point that a word from one language cannot be adequately translated into another still stands.

I remember when I first read this text in French where logos is commonly translated as “le verbe”: a small change that instantly implies something slightly different, something more active. Hearing that made me reflect on my understanding of the text. I think it would be fascinating to know how other languages translate it, and to think about how each translation might shape how we hear this reading.

The word that is God also cannot be adequately translated into our language or culture: our understanding of God is, I would argue, all the richer when we understand that all the words we use can only ever be an approximation: at its best, describing God as the word could perhaps help remind us of this: In the beginning was the untranslatable word.

Logos could, I am told also be translated as “meaning”: and again, if we put this in place in the text I think it adds another layer to how we hear and understand this text: If each Christmas we heard the familiar words: “In the beginning there was meaning” and “the meaning was made flesh”, or “the meaning was made tangible or real” would it change how we understand what John is trying to say?

Apparently the etymology of logos goes back to ‘to pick up, to collect, to gather together’. The gathering of our thoughts of our sense of meaning. Words.

Linguists have long argued about whether language describes reality or whether it creates reality and I suspect while there are probably people on both extremes, consensus is that it does something of both. The words we hear and the language we use shape our understanding of the world around us as well as being the means by which we describe our reality and experiences. There are lots of examples of the ways people speak or the different words they have access to leading to them understanding things differently. There are also plenty of examples of how language is used both unintentionally and deliberately to shape people’s thinking and their action and behaviours.

If God is the word, God is present in how we do both of these things. God as word, God as language helps us to describe and make sense of our experiences and our reality; but God as word, God as language also shapes and co-creates our reality, but perhaps in ways that are subtle and unnoticed, much the way we don’t always notice how the words we use are shaping our sense of our selves and our world.

And then sometimes, we also need to challenge the way words are used: or allow and accept them being challenged by others; and through those challenges to our language, subtle shifts occur in how we understand the world. The same is undoubtedly true of the word that is God: there are times when we also need to challenge, or allow ourselves to be challenged about the way God is used too, and allow our understanding to shift.

So perhaps, just as having access to more words allows us to better describe and make sense of and create our reality; perhaps growing and deepening our connection to God, gives us the same gift.