Words have tones, and words have overtones. The tones are the meanings such as they are researched, ordered and listed in authoritative dictionaries. The overtones are not heard by all, and not heard in the same way by all; the overtones (also called connotations) are determined by the culture of speakers/writers and hearers/readers. If there is a strong mutuality between, say, a speaker and his/her audience; a mutuality that may occur, let us say, at a political campaign rally; the speaker can utter outrageous remarks in such a way that any verbal record would not show anything remarkable; in such a case, the speaker relies entirely on a shared harmony of overtones. In journalism, this is now called a “dog-whistle”.
In large parts of the American demographic, the word “government” has strongly negative overtones (perhaps because American English also has the word “administration” for more neutral use). In France, no one minds the word “government”; but the word “shareholders” (actionnaires) makes large sections of the French electorate foam at the mouth.
And overtones depend, not only on geography but also on historical period. A word that in one age is perfectly neutral or positive may in another age be strongly disliked. I am old enough to remember that in any publicly available printed text the (sexual) “F-word” could not be printed in full; on the other hand, in modern America, the (racial) “N-word” cannot be printed or even, in some cases, referred to. And a particularly intriguing case, one that goes as far as what one might call lexical dissonance, is the French word con, which in one meaning (the original one), that of the female pudenda, is taboo; but which in its other meaning of “a stupid and disagreeable person” is colloquially common to the point of ubiquity.
All this leads me to the word “religion”. In the space of my (now not inconsiderable) lifetime, this word’s overtones have gone from neutral and sometimes positive to almost universally negative. When I was young we sang what were then still called Negro Spirituals, among which were stirring songs like “Give me that old-time religion, it’s good enough for me.” Some people’s religion was Christian, others’ Jewish, still others’ Muslim or Hindu; and within the Christian, some people’s religion was Catholic and others’ Protestant. Now, however, to have faith is good, to be spiritual is good, but to be religious? Noooo.
It is a pity. The word comes from a Latin verb, re-ligare: to bind together again. The idea behind it is that somehow, Heaven and earth got separated, and that this is tragic. I’ve often wondered that so many people find the idea of Original Sin hard to comprehend. Looking around one (and inside one), it seems so obvious: our human mind is capable of imagining something flawless, perfect; but we are incapable of realising it. Something always comes along and buggers it up. This being the case, any idea, person, or institution dedicated to binding-together-again Heaven and earth, perfection and BHF (basic human fuckup); to restoring the link between the despairing human soul and hope, between the woundedly resentful and the charity of love, between the helplessly angry and peaceable friendship, should surely be welcomed and cherished. Alas, this is too often not the case, and the media, social and otherwise, who delight in the excitement of conflict, eagerly exacerbate the tensions.
I should like us to restore re-ligio to its ancient and merited glory. Let us be re-ligious in every part of our life. Let us try, wherever we can, to re-tie the broken strings and cables, to bridge the gaps, to mend the bridges; and most especially those broken ties between simple, hurting humans and a loving God who cannot force them to love him back, and who weeps among angels.
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