Words we have lost but still use

Everyone who lives in America, who hasn't been living in a cave or something, has witnessed a flood of words entering our language to accommodate the flood of new technology, among other new things--new types of education, new ways of defining relationships and family and even new ways of committing crimes, and this only names a few of the avenues for new words. But does our language really have the capacity to expand infinitely? Or are new words coming in bound to force old ones out? Words only stick around if they are actually used and can we really use more words per day, per year? Or will the aspects of life that brought the new words in leave no room for the other parts of our life--or that used to be part of our lives--that caused the use of the old words.

I know, this is a deep thought. And may not seem significant in any way. Who really cares of we lose a few words, if we gain so many? Well, as a linguist, I care for one.

Perhaps, though, the greatest loss, is not when we lose words as much as keeping words that lose their meaning. I've been reading a book series to my kids (The Five Little Peppers) that was written over a hundred years ago and the language is so different, and certain words have completely different meanings and connotations than they do now: words like "cunning" and "elegant" and "prime"... and the one that disturbed my kids the most was when I first used in the 19th century sense--"toilet" :)

There was a learning curve, but after a few chapters, they caught on.

Eugene H. Peterson--the author of The Message--in most of his other writings spends a lot of time explaining precise definitions of words as they were originally intended in the Hebrew or Greek. I used to assume that every language was equally capable of translating the meaning of any phrase from any other language. But language reflects the culture. And the further our culture moves away from resembling what it did when the bible was written, that harder it becomes to translate, I imagine.

Some words have not changed meaning as much as become the equivalent of nutritional fillers and as potent as placebos--they, as far as I can tell, have little meaning whatsoever. We carelessly toss words around in such a way to certainly confuse the listener (as it can easily mean one thing as intended by the speaker and received as something completely different by the listener). Perhaps our lips have just become to far removed from our hearts.

The classic example, which I've heard mentioned in many a sermon, is the word "awesome", which we use to describe mountains towering above but may be just as likely be used to describe the news that a favorite team has won one of the hundreds of games they will play this year, or even more trivial, we have found the cap to our favorite pen!

The word that I'm tempted to stop using altogether is "love". The bible says "God is love." That sets the standard for the definition, or it ought to. There ought to be a certain reverence for a word that, in one word, encompasses the whole of God's character (and the summing up of God's law as well).

But I am as guilty as anyone of throwing that word around with little reverence. I "love" my children, my dog, my husband, chocolate, a joke, sleep and my favorite TV show--oh, and God. Jesus defines love as laying down your life (not being willing mind you, but actually laying it down) for the one you love. Does this definition apply to all these things on my list? I certainly hope not, though it probably applies more to things that it ought not to than the things that it ought. And what I probably "love" most, by this definition, would be my pride, my reputation, my comfort and my selfish lusts.

So what would I say about the things I say I "love" if I was forced to remove "love" from my vocabulary?

For my favorite TV show?

"I am diverted by this show and it numbs me from the pain that my heart constantly smarts from due to the blows life has dealt."

For chocolate?

"I feel good so little of the time and when I put this in my mouth, I feel good and feel pleasure, thought it's only a shadow of what I wish I could have in my life."

For my child?

"I see you, my child, and I feel a swelling of pride that my old, tired body could have produced anything so seemingly unspoiled and beautiful. I look at you and I can have hope that my life hasn't been wasted."

For my dog?

"O my doggie, I am so grateful to have anything look at me that way, like I could do no wrong and you would follow me to the ends of the earth and never complain about what I give you for dinner. You are so much easier than people."

For my God?

This is one that's going to take some thought, so I'll leave that for later. :)