Rick and I were hanging out late one night, engaged in deep discussion as only fifteen-year-old homeschoolers can. I think we were handily proving the stupidity of evolution. Working myself into an impassioned monologue, I said, “I mean, what the hell are they—”
I stopped dead in my tracks—it was the first time I’d ever sworn.
“Sorry...uh...I mean ‘heck.’ What the heck are they thinking.” I finished lamely. The sickly sensation of shame burned in my chest, not for doing something wrong as much as for Rick witnessing me Making A Mistake. (I wouldn’t understand that distinction for a decade or so).
It’s not that I never heard bad words. My family did own a VCR, after all. They were just never used in my home or the homes of my friends. Seriously, I don’t think I ever heard my mom or dad swear (at least not until years later, when my brother and I taught them the ways of adult speech and beverages). They weren’t outspoken or judgmental in their disapproval, just conveyed the sense that Christians didn’t talk like that. The little legalist in me, however, ran with it and added “bad words” to the pass/fail spiritual maturity test that I habitually conducted on others. Cigarettes and Mötley Crüe were also part of that test.
Fast forward about five years. I’d been involved with a parachurch mission organization called Youth With A Mission (YWAM) for years as a teen and took the next step by attending their Discipleship Training School, which consisted of three months in the classroom followed by a two-month mission trip. The Cambridge, Ontario base was housed in the former campus of an English-styled boarding school with five large brick buildings that faced in toward a common lawn. It was the perfect place for fostering a strong community while fucking with your assumptions.
The Cambridge base was also home to YWAM’s best performing arts program, so it attracted people (myself included) who were actively pushing the boundaries of our evangelical subculture. Our impromptu improv games, for instance, would always take very colorful turns.
More critically, the students came from half a dozen nations, forcing us to recognize how much of our morality was shaped by national norms. One Scot gushed about the sex scene in a movie (the stuff we always closed our eyes for) but was nauseated by the fight scenes the Americans praised. The Dane drank copious amounts of coffee to cope with the no smoking policy. And when it came to language... Our Kiwi, who routinely called cowboy boots “shit-kickers,” once vehemently told a Canadian, “Christians don’t say ‘fag’!” And, for some reason, the Brits always snickered whenever someone mentioned their fanny pack.
This much became obvious. Words themselves are not bad—it all comes down to the context.
Some words are considered appropriate in some cultures but not others, such as the Kiwi’s shit-kickers. Others depend on their grammatical function. “Hell” is fine as a noun (unless you’re a universalist) and “damn” is a popular verb with many pastors, but the adjectival or interjectional use of either is unacceptable.
Still others are considered offensive no matter the context. There is no polite use of fuck or n****, but the offensiveness varies by context. I have no problem dropping an f-bomb behind the bar but not a pulpit. As a white dude, I won’t ever say the other word (not even when quoting “Blazing Saddles”) but a black dude can.
As long as we’re talking about the cultural and contextual nature of swearing, here’s an interesting observation (to me, at least).
Profanities, as the word implies, essentially profane the sacred, i.e., things set apart. Older generations considered religion and sex (and the associated body parts and their functions), sacred. Damn, ass, shit, piss... go through the list and you’ll see the usual suspects fit into those categories. But as our society becomes more secular, our prudishness is fading and you can say just about anything, right? I mean, even many Christians are become more casual in their language (or more “worldly,” depending on your perspective). When I spoke at my alma mater, LIFE Bible College, I heard students openly using the words we’d whispered in my day.
But prudishness is not fading. The meaning of many of those words has shifted, as meanings do (case-in-point, “gay”), or else have lost their edge through increased use. What has happened, however, is that the sacred has changed addresses.
Notice that I had no problem writing “fuck” above but bleeped out the n-word. This is a language shift that happened within my lifetime. Growing up, it was always considered highly offensive, but wasn’t bleeped out like it is now. I’m not complaining—it’s a vile, dehumanizing word that deserves to be bleeped. But consider this. Even at the height of evangelical prudishness, I never heard of someone losing their job for saying “shit.” But how often do we hear about some public figure being “cancelled” when a recording surfaced of them using the n-word?
To be exceedingly clear, I am not in any way encouraging use of the n-word. Working with, and ghostwriting for, a black pastor inculcated within me his hatred for the word and desire that it never be spoken again by anyone of any race.
So, what’s my point? No point, yet. Just stirring up some shit.
I’ll be damned. This went way longer than planned. Haven’t even gotten to that time St. Paul said, “Shit.”
Next time, then.