Sticks, Stones, Broken Bones…

Whoever said the old adage, “Sticks and stones may break my bones, but words will never hurt me” is an idiot.

First of all, how many of us get pelted with literal sticks and stones on a regular basis? Even as a child, I don’t remember ever being accosted by enemies throwing any sticks or stones of a magnitude to cause broken bones. Shoot, I played in the woods almost every day and probably inflicted more injuries on myself through bruises and scratches than anyone else laid on me. As a matter of fact, the only broken bone I ever suffered was self-inflicted as well. In seventh grade I broke my collarbone by losing my balance while doing a handstand and nailing my shoulder on the ground.

Perhaps if this saying was true, we wouldn’t have it’s reverse spouted in the whole “pen is mightier than the sword.” Words are powerful, as any writer of literature or propaganda will tell you. We make major life decisions every day based on the words of others. We choose products for our homes and our health based on oral testimonies and print advertising. We choose elected officials based on verbal and written campaign ads. We decide on our theological perspectives based on preaching and the living Word of the Bible. As Christians, we believe the most powerful influence in our lives is the Word of God. Words are the most important weapon in our spiritual armor, and the most powerful force in the world, period.

That said, can words hurt? Absolutely. The Bible is rife with verses to make this point:

“There is one whose rash words are like sword thrusts, but the tongue of the wise brings healing.” (Proverbs 12:18)

“A gentle tongue is a tree of life, but perverseness in it breaks the spirit.” (Proverbs 15:4)

“But no human being can tame the tongue. It is a restless evil, full of deadly poison.” (James 3:8)

Even those who don’t ascribe truth to scripture cannot argue with the fact that throughout our history it has been words that have changed the world. Authors have used their voices to elicit social and political change for generations. Virgil wrote the Aeneid to give credence to Augustus’ rule; Shakespeare is supposed to have written King Lear to criticize King James I; Jonathan Swift wrote Gulliver’s Travels in criticism of many facets of British government and politics; Karl Marx wrote Das Kapital in order to persuade people about the assumed dangers of capitalism; Hitler wrote Mein Kampf and swayed many to see the Jews as destructive toward society. The list of persuasive writing goes on and on and on, from fictional accounts, to treatises on a variety of “real” situations and topics. Every piece of literature I have ever read has some sort of agenda behind it.

If the words of others can influence and persuade us to such great degrees, wouldn’t it follow that our words can be equally encouraging or destructive? Of course. Are we always intentional in exerting this influence or inflicting pain? Hardly. Sometimes, even often, we simply don’t think when we exert our right of free speech. We’ve been taught that our voices should be heard, but maybe there are times when we really should be exercising our right to remain silent.

I’ve been deeply hurt by the words of others throughout my life, but particularly this past week. A downfall of my chosen area of expertise is that I am a hyper-analyst of the written word. I can and do read between the lines. What a person doesn’t say, in between what he or she does say, is just as significant to me. I’ve gotten angry, I’ve gotten sad, I’ve vented to my husband, but at the end of the day, I feel the need to use my own words to process, so here I am.

Perhaps when all is said and written, the lesson is to me, “Let the words of my mouth and the meditation of my heart be acceptable in your sight, O LORD, my rock and my redeemer.” (Psalm 19:14)

If you prick us, do we not bleed?

Hath not a Jew eyes? hath not a Jew hands, organs,

dimensions, senses, affections, passions? fed with

the same food, hurt with the same weapons, subject

to the same diseases, healed by the same means,

warmed and cooled by the same winter and summer, as

a Christian is? If you prick us, do we not bleed?

if you tickle us, do we not laugh? if you poison

us, do we not die? and if you wrong us, shall we not

revenge? If we are like you in the rest, we will

resemble you in that. If a Jew wrong a Christian,

what is his humility? Revenge. If a Christian

wrong a Jew, what should his sufferance be by

Christian example? Why, revenge. The villany you

teach me, I will execute, and it shall go hard but I

will better the instruction.

Shylock in Merchant of Venice, Act III, Scene I

I can’t honestly say I’m a fan of the character Shylock. He’s a shrewd lender who takes advantage of others any chance he gets. I do, however, think he has a valid point in his argument here. Next to “What light through yonder window breaks…” or “a rose by any other name…” from Romeo and Juliet, these lines of Shakespeare’s spoken by the Jew are probably among his most famous and quoted. Who among us hasn’t felt some of Shylock’s sting?

In addition to these lines of Shakespeare, I’ve also been reading some of C.S. Lewis’s “Why I am Not a Pacifist.” Lewis addresses, among other things, the topic of “turning the other cheek” and what it means and doesn’t mean. According to Lewis:

“Does anyone suppose that Our Lord’s hearers understood Him to mean that if a homicidal maniac, attempting to murder a third party, tried to knock me out of the way, I must stand aside and let him get his victim? I think the meaning of the words is perfectly clear – ‘Insofar as you are simply an angry man who has been hurt, mortify your anger and do not hit back’ – even, one would have assumed that insofar as you are a magistrate struck by a private person, a parent struck by a child, a teacher by a scholar, a sane man by a lunatic, or a soldier by the public enemy, your duties may be different, different, because [there] may be then other motives than egoistic retaliation for hitting back.”

Wrong happens. We, like Shylock, are sometimes wronged simply because we are who we are. We are wronged because we hold to a certain theology, or political party, or set of philosophical beliefs, or cultural background. How do we respond to being wronged? Does Shylock have a point in seeking revenge? Revenge is a strong word we’ve been encouraged to steer clear of in our lives. I wouldn’t throw out Shylock’s whole speech here though. What if we took to heart his opening words? What if we remembered that each of us bleeds when pricked, laughs if tickled, dies if poisoned? What if before blindly or selfishly seeking to wound another, we honestly took the time to see the human who in so many ways resembles us? Perhaps that’s the true wisdom Shakespeare is trying to impart. If you’ve read the play, you know Shylock’s revenge meets with a comedic ending anyway.

If revenge isn’t the answer, is lying down and taking the wrong what we should do? I think this is where Lewis’s words come in. I love the perspective he gives in referencing the “homicidal maniac” and then the relationships he explores where turning the other cheek would just plain be stupid. Retaliation for the sake of retaliation accomplishes nothing; however, recompense often needs to be rightfully sought. In many cases in which we are wronged, we have a duty not to turn the other cheek, or expose our underbelly, but to seek correction for the wrong.

I’m sure there is a balance somewhere here between the words of Shylock/Shakespeare and the words of Lewis: a balance between seeking revenge and the traditional understanding of turning the other cheek. In Shylock’s case, his revenge comes to a rather messy end, literally. On the other hand, we’ve all known people who’ve been walked all over in their cheek turning. The only true answer is wisdom to make the right choice when wronged.