Good morning church family,
I’m afraid the English language is lacking a sufficient word to describe one of my kids’ favorite pastimes and so I’ve decided it’s time to bless the old lexicon with a brand-new word. And I’d love to have your help, by the way. Please feel free to take the new word out for a spin any time you like. And I’d be especially glad if you’d consider salting your speech with this new word whenever possible. English is, after all, what you call a “living language”; it hasn’t yet ossified into a rigid and unworkable state like some dead languages we know: Latin, Sanskrit, and Koine Greek, to name a few. I’m sure old Webster would be glad to find room for one more entry in his dictionary.
On our most recent vacation, my kids enjoyed a lot of traditional summer vacation activities. They swam nearly every day, kayaked as much as possible, hiked a few trails, had ice cream in cones and bowls, putt-putted through windmills and around koi ponds, and begged more than a couple Dunkin refreshers off of me. But in addition to all this fun was one other activity they quickly jumped at the chance to enjoy whenever possible. Any time my kids saw a river, brook, creek, or stream, they kicked off their shoes and waded in for as long as allowed; splashing, climbing, tiptoeing and exploring in the rocky, sparkling waterways. While in Vermont they had the chance to step into the Crown Point Brook in Ascutney, the Ottauquechee River in Woodstock, Sucker Brook in Brandon, Furnace Brook in Pittsford, and the Neshobe River in Forest Dale. I don’t think they would have had a better time anywhere in Orlando or Las Vegas. They gloried in every wet, wonderful minute. We always had to pull them away.
But a funny thing happened whenever we’d come upon one of these flowing amusements and an inviting banking would draw us off the road. The kids would pipe up and say, “Hey, Mom and Dad – can we go and . . . you know . . . whatever in the river?” Or I might be reviewing the day’s doings as we drove back to my folks’ house for the night, “Didn’t we have a lot of fun swimming, kayaking, and . . . you know . . . messing around in the creek?” We were all casting about in search of a word to describe this frolicking river-play but none came to mind.
For some reason, I kept wanting to call our rivering, “spelunking” but I know that particular word is already taken to describe messing around in caves. A great word nonetheless, wouldn’t you say? I, of course, got out my Google machine at one point on the trip and searched around looking to find a serviceable word that I’d yet to learn. But all that I could find apart from broad and pedestrian offerings such as “wading” and “splashing”, were terms such as “river trekking”. But we weren’t really hiking up any of these rivers or brooks; just messing around in them. I also discovered the wonderful word “gunkholing” which apparently means kayaking into and attempting to navigate shallow inlets and coves. I tried using this word a couple of times but I knew I was living a lie and quickly gave it up. I also tried commandeering the word “kerplunk” and making this bit of onomatopoeia into a verb. I kind of liked calling our river-play “kerplunking” but, again, I knew that any etymologist would be sure to blow the whistle on me. I believe it was then that I just gave up and decided to create my own word.
After considerable effort (the kind of mirthful exertion that could only be afforded while on vacation, by the way) I came up with the word: “cobwallering”. What do you think? Can’t you just hear me now? “Hey kids – after dinner, do you want to go cobwallering in the Cocheco?” Or can’t you imagine cobwallering clubs sprouting up in towns and counties around the country? It will be glorious! We’ll see. Right now, I’m afraid it’s just a dialect of one.
But this project of mine has got me thinking. Language, and the dictionaries that curate the words of its speakers, are really just a reflection of those people’s lives, actions, and culture. We invent words that we might be better able to communicate what we’re thinking to one another; giving voice to ideas and activities. Just as when a wonderful melody came into Mozart’s mind, he needed a piano to transfer its beauty out of his head and into the minds of the listening world – we need a dictionary full of words to transfer what we’re thinking into the minds of those we’re in conversation with. In this way, words serve our reality but, thankfully, our realities are not limited by our words.
Think of it. What if we could only do what we happened to have words for? Suppose, for instance, that we wanted to pack food into baskets and hike out to some lovely country glen to lay a blanket out under a shade tree and enjoy a summer lunch with friends and family but were forbidden to do so because we didn’t have the word “picnic” in our dictionary? Or what if someone had the holiday notion to get a bunch of folks together to go sing songs of Christmas cheer to their neighbors while standing on their front lawns, but didn’t because the word “caroling” hadn’t yet been invented? That, of course, would be both patently ridiculous and a real shame. No – we do what’s good and right and wait for the language to catch up.
Throughout my years of ministry, I’ve often heard colleagues, church leaders, and fellow believers respond to some new idea by asking something like: “Where did you get that idea? Is there an established program and protocol to go with it? Is there a book I can read or a consultant we can get in touch with? Can you supply a list of references?” And, of course, the implication of all this questioning is a suggestion that what’s being proposed is both fantastical and forbidden. If it doesn’t have a name and a pedigree then it’s not reality. And, of course, this too is both patently ridiculous and a shame.
Now, of course, any new anything needs to be vetted and thoroughly thought through. Some things are so foolhardy that they should never be honored with description. But on the other hand, we should never dismiss an unorthodox idea by simply saying, “That’s not normal.” Especially when the “normal” we’re all suffering from isn’t working. No – instead, we should simply listen to the leading of the Lord and venture to do what’s right and good; knowing that the establishment will follow. New wineskins for new wine.
Well, that’s enough of all that. I’m going to go roust the kids and see if we can’t spend the morning doing some cobwallering. And if you come and join us and tell enough people about it – maybe one day the pesky red line that keeps showing up underneath my typing of the word will disappear!
We’re looking forward to gathering together in the morning to celebrate the old, old story and to sing the new songs it continues to produce in all of our hearts, minds, and lives. Isn’t it grand to be a Christian!?! May the Lord, mighty God, bless and continue to keep us!
- Pastor Tate
