Speaking of Tongues [Proper 19B - James 3:1-12]

 The Rt. Rev. Jeremiah Williamson

James 3:1-12

 

Speaking of Tongues

St. Augustine’s, Ilion, NY

 

One smoked cigarette, thoughtlessly and carelessly tossed aside, can burn an entire city to the ground.  A blown tire, metal beads dragging the dark asphalt, can send a tiny spark careening into the dry road-side brush and set a mountain range on fire.  A bolt of lightning, a fire cracker, a smoldering camp fire: how great a forest is set ablaze by a small fire!  This is what I learned living in Colorado Springs.

 

Every summer in the Rockies smells like smoke.  As the snows melt, the fires light up the western half of our nation.  Most are contained before they consume civilization, but not all.  And so, residents of the west, must be ready to flee the flames.

 

Our home in Colorado was close to a large city park called Palmer Park.  While not as famous as the Garden of the Gods, Palmer Park, at 730 acres, is the largest park in the metro area.  And it hasn’t burned in over a century.  And so our neighborhood was warned: if it catches fire, you need to leave your home immediately.  Because once it starts, there will be no stopping it.

 

In New York, I worry more about my basement flooding than I do my yard catching fire.  But my eight years west of the Mississippi, living with a weary eye on the wildfire map, drives home the gravity of James’ argument.  A small fire can turn a great forest to ash.  So if the tongue is a fire, it must be handled with care.

 

James does not come across as an optimist here.  He is not exactly trying to strike a fair and balanced overview of tongue potential.  He is decidedly anti-tongue – at least in this particular passage.  He asserts that the tongue is placed among our members as a world of iniquity.  It is set on fire by hell.  No one can tame a tongue, a part he calls a “restless evil, full of deadly poison.” 

 

Hyperbolic, sure.  But also, not entirely without merit.  Our words do have the power to destroy. 

 

The thing about words is: once the words leave our lips we cannot take them back.  There is no undo button on the tongue.  Once they enter the atmosphere, words cannot be unheard or unseen.  Once the spark hits the tinder, the blaze spreads, leaving scorched earth in its wake.  Words cannot be unsaid.  We can forgive a stinging barb, but forgetting is another thing altogether.

 

And that is what makes the tongue so very dangerous.  Even an unintentional slip of the tongue can leave a loved one bruised or broken.  Words are powerful and so the stakes are high.  We carry these little, pink powder kegs in our mouths.  And they are jostled about on the bumpy road of life’s journey – always and forever on the verge of detonation.  It is dangerous business.

 

Now if we lived in isolation, in a desert cave or a remote mountain cabin, the tongue could, I suppose, be neutralized.  Its venom would be lacking potential targets.  It would still be a fire, but one surrounded by a vast ocean. 

 

We, however, do not live in isolation.  I know that because we are here, in this church, surrounded by people – each person within striking distance of many tongues.  We church people do live dangerously.

 

And we know that.  The destructive power of the tongue has, historically, been a serious threat to communities and relationships.  Words have ended marriages and alienated children.  Words have broken families and crumbled friendships.  Words have torn churches apart. 

 

And so, perhaps, we must admit that James is correct.  And keep our mouths closed, lest something terrible escape our lips.

 

But if there were no words, there would be nothing.  Silence might save us from bad words, but it would also leave us feeling empty.  James is correct about the destructive power of words.  But also words create worlds.  We know that from the book of Genesis.  And so, could it be that words are worth the risk?            

 

Without words our songs would have no lyrics.  You would never hear “I love you.”  The Bible would look like a blank journal.  And we would not know Jesus; he was, John tells us, the Word made flesh.

 

It is a sad thing that our mouths are filled with blessings and cursings.  But it is lovely that our mouths have the power to bless.  Our tongues can set a forest on fire, but also a tongue can speak light into a friend’s darkness; it can melt the ice between loved ones.

 

Power can always be used for good or ill.  And the tongue is powerful and so it too has that capability.  Our words can be used for bad – and sometimes they are.  But also, they have an amazing capability to accomplish good.  Our words say our prayers and proclaim the Gospel and sing out beautiful hymns.  With our words we tell our love stories and speak from the heart.

 

And James knew this.  He acknowledges that the tongue is wild.  And that no one can tame the tongue.  But also he understood that the tongue is not an independent agent.  The tongue speaks from the heart.  And if we tend to the heart, rooting out the prejudices and evils, nurturing love and goodness, we don’t have to worry so much about what might come out of our mouths.  If there is love and goodness inside, that is what will come out.

 

Words are powerful.  And you know that because you are doing the dangerous work of Christian community.  You are striving to love each other – hoping your silly tongues do not betray your good hopes for this fledgling community. You are deciding to love each other – across differences and despite the many jagged edges of our humanity.  Like all of us, you are trying to say the right things aware of your clumsy tongues.  And that can be hard.  But remember: good hearts and good words have brought you this far.  Your tongues prayed this amazing community into being, created from three and now one.  That is holy work.  The work of creating community, though, never ends.  So, continue to be generous with each other.  The words won’t always be right.  But if your hearts are right, everything else will turn out all right too.