Language
and Betrayal
Language
itself, exchanged speech, is essentially covenant-making. In every
exchange of speech we are implicitly contracting to tell the truth
to one another, no matter what it is we are saying, whether trivial
or profound. Every spoken message is silently prefaced by a mutual
oath: "I agree to tell you the truth, and you agree to tell
me the truth. We can trust the other not to deceive."
Of
course sometimes we do deceive, and when we do, we have broken
covenant. We have defrauded. We have breached an oath, betrayed
the one to whom we lied. In fact, can't we say that we have committed
the terrible sin of causing someone to live in a world of delusion
to the extent they built their picture of reality on the sand
we supplied them? They went on to take certain steps they would
not have taken had they known what was really the truth. You told
them you loved them, but you didn't. And the radiant sun that
began to shine in their soul will be extinguished like a candle
in the rain when they find out the truth.
I
thought I could count on you, but you didn't mean it, and now
that you have become part of the defense perimeter of my life,
I am seriously vulnerable without knowing it. Thanks a lot!
You
may not think a lie matters if, say, no one is betrayed. But every
lie is a betrayal, a snapping of a covenant bond. Every lie inflates
language. It is, like American currency, worth less and less.
We have to start buttressing what we say with "I swear!"
"I promise!" "You have my word on it!" All
these statements are tacit admissions that without the oath to
restrict you, you could be expected to lie and cheat.
Isn't
that why Jesus counsels you to be the sort of person from whom
no one would think to require an oath? "Let your yes be yes
and your no be no. Any more than this comes from the Evil One."
We must bring language back to its original status as a covenant
we can trust each other to keep.
Robert
M. Price
