Eric’s Sunday Sermon; “That Which Tears Us Apart and the Language of Love”
Don't Tear Me Down
What Do We Speak?
Isn’t that a great term. Tears us apart? What does that even mean to tear us apart? Does it mean to tear apart the bad? Does it mean to tear you and I apart? Tear and apart are interesting concepts. I am quite sorry but once in love with you I cannot tear apart that deal. I have tried to tear apart my relationships, sorry again it did not work.
Check out that spelling. It is the same as tears like crying. I worked on that for some minutes and just gave up. Nope that is tare, tear, and tore, and tarry. Alright be a pompous snob and know the spelling. Good for you and you miss the fun and imagination and creation. Good for you. Go elsewhere quick. My 9 year old got the fun. But you can just get back to your self-righteous stance and see if you can comprehend four languages. I will see you in the rearview mirror in a taxi in Tijuana after I pick up my son from Vietnamese class. Only two words a week in Latin but he also wants to know scientific names.
Don’t even go there if you cannot explain that animals usually fall into one of five different phylum which are Cnidarian, Arthropod, and Echinoderms and Mollusks and Chordata. (personally I like Arachnids here but it does not follow the deal)
So when you talk about the right spelling or your divisive nature on words. Jump on board our ship and try to sail it. Now these dang plants have me scratching my head. In the desert here it is hard to decipher decidua for coniferous. // sorry for spelling// I do not think we are word stupid around here. Just go with hord, herd, hear and hard. Why a “flock” of crows is called a “murder”, and is my wife crazy as a Loon?
So the point of this first part is that we judge a person by the words they use but when you do you have to know them will bring us to this next part. About judging by accent. Do not judge a folk from New York by your Cajun in down in Bayou country or Washington State or Washington D.C. My wife’s “English is Australian”. My son’s is perfect American English. I mix and match adjectives with adverbs and nouns and predicates. I have that right as I have degrees which are centered on the use of words.
Being a Word Smith is What I Do, I Am Having a Blast
So we have this wonderful area where we love another’s words. So fun! We just kicky back and grab a bag of popcorn and enjoy the show and we pick up the nuance. I come from an area where no accent is normal. It is straight forward American English. But now I live in an area of Spanglish. What a blast. I have to teach it to my son. Here we are often judges by our knowledge of border Spanish and English. I should say Mexican, because the lisp in Castilian is a little haughty taughty if you know what I mean. We also learn words like “boot” and “lorry”, which says something about another culture. We only know some deep Asian by Buddha and Hebrew from the Bible. But we try. Guess my name and know we have some Germanic. The boy Knew Dannk Shoin (sp) without even batting an eye. But he is half Vietnamese and half Arizonian.
So again we get back to the point. Learning other languages allows us to express ourselves to others. Even if it is just a little it gives the respect. Respect is the cornerstone of love. The decision to learn another’s tongue is something you do not “need” to do. But if you live where I live it is the only right thing to do. I would say that there are 5 out of 25 children in my son’s class at school that are pure white Americans. (Sorry but here it is important to point out) I mean that as a realization about our culture. I imagine in Kansas it is different. But I do not know. We walked to the cars with a born Ethiopian yesterday. And Rico our friend is Filipino and Israel is something I cannot figure. The language is the same. It is buddies having fun playing soccer with buddies. It is time building Lego deals and hanging out.
Now my boy is at that age with “dirty” jokes. Our language with each other allows him to tell them to me. I know that is crazy. But we do “speak” and love it. Now just take it easy we are getting to the language love and it will be super duper or as I like to quote; supercalifragilisticexpialidocious even though the sound of it is something quite atrocious. (The boy can spell it) Let us move on to the love “in” language. // By and by he spelled that as I was kicking his butt in Volleyball what a weirdo//
The Language of Love
How High Can The Wind of Language Take Us?
Did you know that I can speak without speaking. Strangest thing. You should see my consternation look. My happy look will make even the least of these to smile. Quizzical is my favorite. I like; “your putting me to sleep”. Oh my angry scowl will make you wince. When I shake my head it clearly means not to do it, but the boy still climbs up on the roof and says I did not tell him not to do it.
So what the heck is the language of love? I can only offer suggestions or things for you to look at. I have sat in parks, I have hung out in hospitals, I have been to dumps and I have visited several continents and studied and work it out and do not know it. If you want to pump out the love, you just do it in your own way and language. And that is so cool. It is up to me to accept it in my own way. I do this deal with my family and I write these sermons and I like to hang out with homeless and I get hired to help folks legally. But I still do not get how I give love.
Totally beyond us. We either do or we do not. The language of love is as different as all the languages in the world. I cannot speak all of them. You have your own language of love. But there is a strange part to it. You speak your language and I get it. I speak mine and you get it.
So what is the language of the law of love? I like to say that love is like snowflakes, no two are the same. Probably just the ramblings of an old man. But I have never seen even two people love the same way. Their language is different. My wife simply cannot love me as I love her but we speak to each other in the language of love. Can this be? I have searched and interviewed many. Every damned love is different as is every language of love. By golly there is no same recipe. No snowflake is the same.
My son put too much spice on his wonderful pasta salad last night. He learned not to over spice. Probably true of love and we learn. Not my call to make. But sit a bit and make that call for you. I try not to give advice here. My job is to show my failures so that you do not commit them. You may interpret or translate.