´óÏó´«Ã½

Good morning to you. Not long ago, I had a rather bad-tempered argument with someone about – as it happens – the ´óÏó´«Ã½. Actually, the subject doesn’t matter much. The more significant aspect of the encounter was that the robust exchange was conducted in French, as part of a conversation class. The other members sat looking a bit surprised and bemused as the argument continued for several minutes. Afterwards, I realised it was the first time I’d had an argument in a foreign language. I also realised it could be seen as a sign of progress – though I regretted the bad-tempered tone!
Language is fascinating. Watching and listening as a one-year-old begins to recognise and copy sounds, and then learns to link those sounds with objects, or people, or actions is endlessly amazing. Those of us who are no longer one year old find it increasingly hard to hear and learn another language. By the time we’re pensioners it’s a tough task. Yet there’s something rather special about jumping the barriers of nationality and simply making friends. Language is one of the things, if not the key thing, which makes us human. It is, if such words work for you, an extraordinary gift, and the Hebrew Bible marks it by the story of God allowing the first humans to name the rest of the created order. 
But what makes verbal communication possible can also prevent it, when different languages are involved. The work of an interpreter is to overcome such incomprehension. Both those thoughts are also in Hebrew and Christian scripture – Babel, the town punished for excessive ambition by confusing its language, and Pentecost, the day when people from foreign lands heard Christian preaching in their own tongue. God the interpreter has the power to bring together what language has separated. 
When we speak today, may God guide our words. Amen.