Words Can Hurt, Words Can Heal

My mother meant well, but she was dead wrong.  When I was being bullied or called names, she would say, Sticks and stone can break my bones, but words can never hurt me.  How wrong she was.  In fact, words have the power to inflict wounds much deeper than any sticks or stones. When in response to a Facebook post, a stranger called me stupid, I thought, Well, maybe I am, but this person has never met me, so how would she know? Even so, the word hurt.

Words can hurt, words can heal.

That’s why I love and hate my spell-checker.  For example, if I am writing  United Methodist, and accidentally type Untied, my spell-checker thinks it’s right, but it’s wrong.  There is no such thing as an Untied Methodist because all Methodists are United in our global, connectional system. 

One of the worst typos I have ever seen was sign at a restaurant which read “Due to unexpected circumcisions, the dining room will be closed.”  Or the church bulletin announcement which said, “The Little Mothers’ Circle will meet next week.  If you would like to become a little mother, meet the pastor in his office.”

When a political candidate uses words like bloodbath, in the light of January 6^th it raises the specter of political violence and when anyone refers to other human beings as animals, less than human, it carries the ugly overtones of the justification for American slavery and the Holocaust.

 Words can hurt, words can heal.

In recent decades, I have tried to learn to choose words that heal rather than hurt.  For example, when I pray, I frequently pray to God as Father, since Jesus called God  Abba, a familial term which really means Papa or Daddy.  At the same time, as a pastor I knew there were persons in my congregation for whom the experience of father was hurtful, so I tried to use names for God which could heal rather than hurt.

I borrow my theme from a book by Joseph Telushkin entitled  Words That Hurt, Words That Heal: How To Choose Words Wisely and Well.  He says when he lectures, he often asks his audience, Can you go for 24 hours without saying any unkind words about or to anybody? Invariably a minority raise their hands, some people laugh and quite a large number shout out No!  Maybe we should take Telushkin’s question to heart.  Could we go 24 hours without saying unkind words about or to anyone?  And if we can do it for 24 hours, how about a week, or a month, or a year?

Because words can hurt, words can heal.