Today's post is from Scott Whisler, friend and sojourner.
A meditation on Luke
7:36-50
In our passage from Luke Chapter 7, Jesus employs the
passive voice to great effect:
“…her many
sins have been forgiven.”
“Your sins
are forgiven.”
This might have been acceptable in the Aramaic that Jesus
spoke, and it seems to be thrown about with impunity in New Testament Greek,
but just in case you haven’t heard, in English speaking circles, there is and
has been an ongoing war against the passive voice for some time. The commanding
voices of Field Marshalls Strunk and White have long led the charge: “Use the
active voice.”[i]
Likely any who have dared submit their writing to editorial review by experts
in linguistic nitpicking (e.g., junior high English teachers, college
composition professors, any fellow student with a red pencil) will carry scars
from this conflict.
Like most wars, this is a silly war. It would seem that the
origins of the conflict over the passive voice have been lost to the ages,
although some blame George Orwell who, even while he militated against it, was
blithely firing it from his own cannons.[ii]
Me, I love me some passive voice for its proper uses. For
the speaker or writer, the beauty of the passive voice is that a happening to a
person or thing may be described when either (1) we don't care to identify the
instigator (the person or thing making the thing happen) or (2) when we don't
have that information. Of course, for the hearer or reader, this is also the
problem: we are informed of a happening and to what or to whom it has occurred,
but we are left then always with the questions, "Yes but who did it?"
or "What caused this to occur?"
The classic objection to the passive voice is that it sounds
evasive and, in truth, it often is, e.g.,
“Mistakes were made.” Both politicians and fifth-graders seem to prefer this
formulation even though it tends to drive the professional journalists and
parents a little nutty. Strunk and White warred against the passive voice for
this very reason. To their way of thinking, an expression in active voice was
“usually more direct and vigorous than the passive.” In this view, “direct and
vigorous” is equated with “truth” whereas “passive” is equated with, “She’s
hiding something. Why is she lying?”
Yea, verily, “direction” and “vigor” are nice when you can
get them. Sometimes, though, “things happen” and that’s all that you can really
say about it. You simply don’t have all of the information that might be
desired. You are short on specifics, on evidence, on hard facts, sometimes
because you haven’t looked hard enough, but also sometimes because the
specifics just aren’t available. Or maybe don’t exist?
As a rule, we tend not to like this lack of specifics. We
prefer “effects” to have their “causes” available for review and I mean right now, Mister, much like
the officers of the law who expect us to produce licenses and registrations
when we are called upon to do so.
In Luke Chapter 7, Jesus comments on something as weighty as
“the forgiveness of sin” with
this breezy failure to specify how such a thing happens. “Sins have been
forgiven,” he says.
In effect, grace happens.
Wait…what? How? Who did it? When did that happen? Was it just now? Or,
like, a long time ago?
Here’s the story:
While Jesus and his Pharisee host named Simon and other invited
guests were sitting around Simon’s table in discussion, an unwelcome woman
entered the scene with an alabaster bottle. As the men folk attempted to carry
on their conversation, the woman stood behind Jesus and began to weep. Then she
bent to wash Jesus’ feet with her tears, drying his feet with her hair, finally
soothing his feet with the expensive ointment from her bottle.
Simon wondered to himself why Jesus would allow an unclean
woman—a “sinner”—to touch him so.
And, you know, sometimes guys just want some space for a
little “man talk” without all the blabbering and hair wringing, for crying out
loud.
To Simon’s wonderment, Jesus seemed not the least bothered
by the display. So Jesus engaged Simon’s thoughts.
“Simon, I have a word for you.”
“I’m listening, Teacher.”
“Imagine a man who had two debtors, one who owed him a
little bit, and one who owed him a heck of a lot. Neither debtor could pay
their debts, so the man cancelled both debts. Now: which of the debtors would
you think will love the man more?”
“I would guess that the debtor with the greater debt would
be more thankful for the cancellation,” Simon answered.
“You are correct, Sir,” Jesus replied. “Now look at this
woman here, Simon.”
“Ok.”
“I am sitting here under your
roof, at your table as your guest,
and you did not give me water to wash my feet. And then here she comes, bathing
my feet with her tears and drying my feet with her hair.”
“True.”
“In fact, when I came to your door, you offered me no kiss
in greeting, and ever since she showed up she has not stopped kissing my feet.”
“Right, I can see that.”
“Did you anoint my head with oil?”
“No, but….”
“Answer: no. She, on the other hand, brought her own
soothing ointment for my feet. Can you see that?”
“Well…”
“Look, Simon, point is this: Yes, she had the much larger
debt, which has been cancelled, and thus
you see here this immense expression of love.”
“On the other hand,” Jesus said, “from the guy with little
to be thankful for, it seems you get only a little love.”
And then, while perhaps the steam issued from Simon’s ears,
Jesus turned to the woman and said: “Your signs have been forgiven.”
Of course, Simon and his buddies really had something to
talk about after that. “Who does this guy think he is? Now he is forgiving
sins?”
And then, in a remarkable turn, in a brilliant turn, in
perhaps the greatest coup de grace, Jesus turns the passive expression into an
active one, saying to the woman:
“Your faith has saved you. Now go live in peace.”
WHAT?!! Her faith?! What faith is that?
Wait!! What about the
rules, the law of sin and death? What about confession? What about repenting,
feeling bad, a little guilt, would that kill you? What about keeping the
commandments, the wages of sin, the lust of the flesh, falling short, evil
thoughts, selfishness, that thing with my neighbor’s wife? What about baptism,
confirmation, membership?
Are you telling me faith, just faith, naked plain old faith, can just
fix all of that?
It’s like nobody sees it coming.
Perhaps some of us wish we could unsee it.
Most of the time we want the answers to the big questions in
a direct, vigorous declaratory statement. For the big stuff, an indirect
expression of the state of affairs just does not satisfy our need to know. So we whine a little about the passive voice.
It’s evasive. Why not just say what you mean?
And then we get the news: direct, active, clear, simple.
We have been forgiven.
Our faith has already saved us.
The people with the big debts seem to get it and, great
balls of fire, if they sometimes don’t get all kissy and crying and stuff.
Sure, the people with little debts might get a little happy,
but mostly they don’t get it. For them, the big demonstration of exuberance might
not make much sense. They want to argue with it, deny it, put it on the table
and cut it open and kill it so they can study it and argue about it some more.
How can her faith have
saved her?
Whatever happened to
sin?
Was she saved before
she had faith or because she had faith?
When precisely did
this happen?
How can she know it
happened?
Good questions, all of them. For whatever reason, Jesus
didn’t spend a lot of time drawing these lines and boxes for us. His message
was both pretty murky and pretty fabulous.
Your sins have been forgiven. Passive voice.
Forgiveness happens. Or it has happened.
Grace occurs.
To the intellectually inclined, this passive construction
and its lack of precision is possibly a little unsatisfying.
To those with big debts, though, there isn’t anything
passive about it.
[i]
Strunk and White, The Elements of Style
(4th Ed. 2000, p. 18) One admits that S&W’s discussion thereafter is
slightly more nuanced on the issue, but nevertheless it is this declaration
that leads the section that is remembered and employed by those who would flog
others for their sins.
[ii]
See G. Pullum’s Language Log, July 18, 2006: http://itre.cis.upenn.edu/~myl/languagelog/archives/003366.html
I love where you took this Scott! Strunk & White meet Jesus and the woman with the expensive ointment. Love your writing style!
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