June 6, 2005
Spells
Spelling bees always intrigue me. Spelling English words is surely an abomination to the Lord. That a seemingly increasing number of them are not-English-and-becoming-English doesn’t much help matters.
On the other hand, the fact that English is a veritable linguistic pot pourri is hands-down cause for rejoicing if for no other reason than how remarkably exciting language reflects God’s way with us and hopes for us. Like writer Toni Morrison said, language makes us human. Furthermore and in my opinion, John Evangelist could not have found a better metaphor for the Incarnation than that the Word became flesh, nor can we for our own DNAbled human becoming.
Spelling bees somehow bring all this into focus. Those marvelous youngsters who participate in them are such splendid microcosms of what this is all about. That is why, in the midst of the anxiety, the puzzlement, the wonder, the astounding range of knowledge shown in each contestant, the savoir faire of one young lady struck me as so stunningly pleasant and joyful.
Like all the others, she had asked about etymology, pronunciation, sentence usage all wrapped in the usual accompanying anguish. Then suddenly, she relaxed, smiled, twinkled her eyes, and caught us all — including her interrogator — completely off guard when she asked, “Would you please spell it for me?”