Mastering the Contranym

English is a fascinating language. Certainly not the simplest to learn, but extremely versatile. You might say that among the circus of languages, English is the contortionist. (That analogy might make German the strong man and Romani the fortune teller.  As for the bearded lady . . . I’ll leave that to your personal conjecture.)

I’ve formally studied several other languages, yet I consider myself a master of none. Nevertheless, when it comes to English, I do take some pride in my skills, and would be willing to claim for myself the status of journeyman. Among other credentials I have my “verbal” score on the Graduate Record Exam, which placed me in the 97th percentile.

It goes without saying that C.S. Lewis (along with most of his fellow Inklings) was a Master of English. One of his many insights warned of language’s occasional tendency to confuse rather than illuminate.

Language exists to communicate whatever it can communicate. Some things it communicates so badly that we never attempt to communicate them by words if any other medium is available. (C.S. Lewis, Studies in Words).

As much as I discover about English, I find there is still more to learn. This week I enjoyed thinking about contranyms. It’s uncommon enough a word that you know your spell checker won’t recognize it. One of those words only an English major is expected to know.

We all know, of course, what synonyms and antonyms are. Useful little tools for playful manipulation of language. A contranym is a word that possesses two “contradictory” meanings. For example a “citation” which can be awarded for either good or issued for bad behavior. Or, consider “literally,” which has its literal meaning as well as its recently developed and contradictory definition of “figuratively.” For lovers of words that’s a particularly discomforting contranym, and it literally makes my head explode. (No, seriously, please don’t ever write or say something like that unless it is in the form of dialog you’re composing for a semi-literate character.)

There are many more examples.

“They left for London, without a thought as to the luggage they left at the station.”

“He was certainly bound for jail if they discovered the Internal Revenue agent he had left bound in his basement.”

“He buckled his belt a mere moment before his legs buckled beneath him as he was struck by the errant meteorite.”

“Apparently there are many thoughtless oversights when programs are left to governmental oversight.”

Homophonic contranyms are not spelled alike, but they are pronounced similarly. “My aural test is scheduled tomorrow, immediately before the oral defense of my dissertation.”

There are actually a couple of alternative names for contranyms. They can be called antagonyms or autoantonyms, which only serves to make the hazy water that much murkier.

Our next lesson will feature that amazing category of words that are “polysemy.” (Not really, I think this has been enough linguistic thinking to cover us for at least a week.)

Oh, one final note, for those who were curious about the choice of the image above for this column. Contranyms are also referred to as “Janus words,” in honor of the Roman deity who constantly gazes in two directions. Very fitting.

Roman Realism

There are many things about ancient Rome that fascinate me. My love for the era finds its roots in the wonderful books of Rosemary Sutcliff and the spectacular cinematic epics like “Ben Hur” that were released during my childhood.

Over the years I’ve studied the Roman world in great depth. I shifted my numismatic interested to coins of the Constantinian era. (You can still purchase the genuine articles relatively inexpensively. Thanks to the tragic individuals who buried their hoards during troubled times and never returned to recover them.)

One of my favorite things about the Romans was their realism which manifested itself even in the busts they carved. Unlike the Greeks who strove to idealize everything, the Romans were pragmatic. If the honoree’s face lacked character (or suffered from an excess of the same), then the artist was expected to reflect that fact.

Just look at all the character in the face of the unknown Roman portrayed above. Or, how about this one. So vivid. Imagine just how difficult life must have been for this thirty-two year citizen.* Yes, they did an impressively faithful job portraying the subjects of their artistic studies.

I’m not naïve enough to think that the emperors’ likenesses weren’t “airbrushed” just a tad. But take a look at the image to the left. It was made of an extremely important person, Pompey the Great, and it’s obviously intended to be a true likeness. This image always reminds me of a troubled chaplain assistant who served with me during my isolated tour in Korea. That sergeant’s tussled coiffure witnessed to a nasty hangover. I cannot attribute Pompey’s unruly mane to the same cause.

C.S. Lewis said the first requirement of art is to engage, to connect in some fashion with the interests of the viewer. He wrote this in his essay “Hamlet: The Prince or the Poem,” which he wrote in 1942.

To interest is the first duty of art; no other excellence will even begin to compensate for failure in this, and very serious faults will be covered by this, as by charity.

If I lined up a dozen beautiful and stylized Grecian busts against one wall and the same number of Roman examples against another, I have no doubt which would merit and receive the greatest attention. Idealized portraiture can be appreciated. But realistic likenesses, that celebrate the uniqueness of each human being, these are truly engaging.

Oh, and in closing let me say that I’m just vain enough—should anyone undertake to create a bust of me—to want it crafted in the Greek style, rather than the Roman . . .

* True age unknown . . . but you already knew that, right?

It’s Tough being a Colony

During the early 1990s I was stationed at RAF Greenham Common and RAF Alconbury in the United Kingdom. Our family loved our three brief years in that inspiring land. One of the quaint things I recall was the relatively frequent question I was asked when meeting someone new. They would inquire as to “how things were going in the colonies.” It was actually a pleasant ice-breaker, and never said maliciously.

The comment offered no cause for offense. It’s been too long since the United States was a British colony for it to be more than a historical comment. The heated issues that once led to bloodshed have become historical trivia. There are, of course, many “younger” nations in our world that are still struggling to discover their post-colonial identities. This has been notoriously difficult where occidental powers established arbitrary boundaries that failed to recognize ethnic, religious or cultural considerations.

So, why is today’s post pondering the concept of colonialism? It just so happens that today is the anniversary of the imposition of the Stamp Act (tax) on her colonies by the British. It became law in 1765, a full decade before the War of Independence, but it was one of the alienating actions that laid the foundation for the upcoming rebellion.

Apparently, our paternalistic government in Europe regarded North America as a sort of bank from which they could make continuous withdrawals without ever repaying the funds. (“No taxation without representation” was a common battle cry.) The Stamp Act directly taxed all commercially published colonial materials, including newspapers and pamphlets. The Stamp Act would have been burdensome enough by itself, but the colonies were still reeling from three other onerous taxes that had recently been levied:

Sugar Act (1764)

…which covered textiles, wines, and coffee, in addition to sugar.

Currency Act (1764)

…which undermined colonial mercantilism and freedom.

Quartering Act (1765)

…which transformed every American home into a free bed & breakfast for British soldiers.

You get the idea. Georgia, Pennsylvania, Maryland and their like were merely colonies, so why should their concerns be factored into the equation? Extremely shortsighted. Not to mention, quite selfish.

C.S. Lewis addressed this subject in his major historical work.

The best European minds were ashamed of Europe’s exploits in America. Montaigne passionately asks why so noble a discovery could not have fallen to the Ancients who might have spread civility where we have spread only corruption. (English Literature in the Sixteenth Century).

We recognize that Montaigne’s notion is just a tad idealistic. If the Romans had colonized the Americas, for example, the indigenous people would hardly have been treated any differently. And the introduction of gladiatorial arenas would have presented an arguable civic improvement.

Still, Lewis’ point is completely valid. Whenever humans conquer or “colonize” their fellows, the colonies always get the proverbial “short end of the stick.” Thus, we recognize that it’s tough being a colony.

So, where does that leave us? Historically informed, perhaps we can make better decisions in the future. Weaker nations and peoples should never be exploited. It’s not just a matter of justice. Ethics aside, history teaches that sowing seeds of alienation and discontent invariably reap an unwelcome harvest.

One word of hope that we see in this historical snippet is that despite a combative history, lands (and people) can lay aside their animosity and become sincere allies. Which brings me back to the place where I began this column . . . living in an era when these nations that fought not one, but two wars, are steadfast friends.

The Ides of March

I was introduced to ancient Rome as a young reader. Rosemary Sutcliff (1920-1992) wrote such fine historical fiction that it appeals to young readers and adults alike. A film version of The Eagle of the Ninth was made just last year. And I’m a sucker for a good Roman movie (wherein “good” excludes all of the so-called spaghetti gladiator films made in the fifties and sixties).

As a student of Rome, I find it worth noting today’s date. Even those who know “nothing” about Rome should understand its significance. You don’t need to have studied Latin or the classics to understand the warning “Beware the Ides of March.” The Ides is the fifteenth day of the month. And it was on this day that Julius Caesar was murdered by members of the Roman Senate.

It was left to his adopted son, Caesar Augustus, to transform the Republic into an autocratic Empire. It was this Caesar who ruled Rome at the time of Jesus’ birth, and he bequeathed the title of “Caesar” to his heirs. When Jesus requested that the Pharisees and Herodians “show him the coin for the tax,” we do not know whether Augustus or Caesar Tiberius adorned it. It matters not, since the image of Caesar was tantamount to representing Rome itself.

Jesus taught his disciples to be discerning in the loyalties we offer. We are to be responsible citizens. But we are also required to remember our true citizenship rests in the New Jerusalem.

C.S. Lewis astutely illustrated this truth. He lived during two global conflicts, and served in combat defending his homeland. Yet Lewis recognized the dangers of placing our trust (faith) in even the “noble” things of this world.

A man may have to die for our country: but no man must, in any exclusive sense, live for his country. He who surrenders himself without reservation to the temporal claims of a nation, or a party, or a class is rendering to Caesar that which, of all things, most emphatically belongs to God: himself. (“Learning in War-Time” – a sermon preached in Oxford in 1939).

So, on this day when Julius’ dreams of glory bled out in Rome . . . may you and I find refuge, hope, peace and meaning in the One who bled and died for each of us on Calvary.

Pets in Heaven?

One of my favorite features in the Wittenburg Door of the 1980s was a running account of “Dogs Who Know the Lord.” Having witnessed more Christlike traits in some pets than I’ve seen in many human lives, I considered the tongue in cheek title a definite possibility.

This week we bid farewell to a gentle and loving border collie who had been part of our family for more than a decade. She lived a long and full life, and like her our previous border collie, she enjoyed her family and the outdoors (both gifts of God) right up until the end. (Both had been “rescued” by us.) Then, when Tanner and Lady were each over 15 years old, simply remained on their blankets when the day arrived that they knew they had not the strength to rise.

There are two kinds of people. Pet lovers, and those whose hearts are desensitized to their affections. The latter group has already stopped reading this post. But pet lovers, yes you, can empathize with my family’s current grief. You understand our loss because you’ve suffered the same pain. And, some of you may even pause to say a short prayer for us.

As a pastor, I’ve had numerous conversations with people about the question of whether or not we’ll see our pets in heaven. It’s a provocative subject, and the fact that such questions persist is a tribute to the significance of these animals in our lives.

Contrary to what some would allege, posing questions about this matter does not trivialize faith; it reveals how our restored relationship with our Creator affects every dimension of our existence.

We cannot know, of course, the answer to the question. That’s something that those who respond with a snide “of course not!” should take care to realize.

Over the years my own views on this have broadened, and far from seeing the deliverance (i.e. not “salvation”) of animals as something unlikely . . . I now consider it likely that we will be greeted by our beloved pets in the new creation. Here are some reasons I consider this a definite possibility:

  1. First, it is true that Jesus died to redeem (save) human beings (not animals).
  2. Animals are “innocent” sufferers of humanity’s disobedience and fall.
  3. Some animals are uniquely precious and beloved by God’s children.
  4. Their presence in heaven would enhance our joy.
  5. The same God who created them would have no difficulty re-creating or restoring them.
  6. If the lion and the lamb will lie together in harmony, why should there not be room for our much-loved pets to frolic alongside them?

And, lest you consider the words above merely the sentimental ramblings of a grieving man, I take comfort in the fact that C.S. Lewis too regarded this as a possibility. In a 1962 letter, he wrote:

. . . in The Problem of Pain I ventured the supposal—it could be nothing more—that as we are raised in Christ, so at least some animals are raised in us. Who knows, indeed, but that a great deal even of the inanimate creation is raised in the redeemed souls who have, during this life, taken its beauty into themselves? That may be the way in which the “new heaven and the new earth” are formed. Of course we can only guess and wonder. But these particular guesses arise in me, I trust, from taking seriously the resurrection of the body.

Replacing Exonyms

Scott Stantis has illustrated once again how educational some current comic strips can be. His current story arc takes place in Guam. (Guam’s a lovely United States Territory where my family and I lived for two wonderful years in the nineties.)

The story line involves a presidential candidate who has taken refuge there and was asked his opinion about formally changing the island’s name. (There is a movement seeking to replace “Guam” with “Guahon,” the island’s name in the Chamorro language.) You can follow the entire series at Prickly City.

As the panel shows, the (rabbit) senator is unaware that “Guam” is actually an exonym. As such, there is a valid reason to consider its replacement.

Kids today are growing up knowing prominent international cities by names that still seem “foreign” to many of us adults. Beijing has been around just long enough to sound right. But it will always be remembered as Peking to some. Mumbai, as a more recent adjustment, rings alien in the ears of those who still think of the most populous city in India as Bombay.

Still, it makes sense to attempt to refer to cities and nations as the residents of those locales do. For one thing, it is a sign of respect.

And this kind of transition is not an example of thoughtless or random “verbicide” which C.S. Lewis described in “Studies in Words.” There he wrote:

Verbicide, the murder of a word, happens in many ways. Inflation is one of the commonest; those who taught us to say awfully for “very,” tremendous for “great,” sadism for “cruelty,” and unthinkable for “undesirable,” were verbicides.

Replacing exonyms is meaningful to those it directly affects. And it is little more than an inconvenience to the rest of us. So, I’m in favor of it.

Just as I’m always in favor of comic strips that educate as well as entertain!

Military Helmets

War is deadly business. And, if a kingdom or nation hopes to emerge victorious, they are wise to equip their soldiers properly. That’s why this fact, included in today’s Ripley’s Believe It or Not comic, is so shocking.

It’s inconceivable that as the world marched to war in 1914, not a single one of the world powers equipped their troops with steel helmets. Elegant helms that looked superb on the parade ground . . . yes. Elaborate crests that exaggerated height to intimidate the foe . . . of course. Comfortable fabrics that kept the scorching sun off of the scalp . . . certainly.

But steel helmets that might actually spare men from bullet and shrapnel wounds . . . not those.

It’s not like the danger of ballistic wounds caught the Europeans off guard. Muskets had given way to deadly rifles long before. Artillery had advanced to the point where the Germans actually built not one, but two unique weapons: (1) Big Bertha, a huge howitzer that lobbed an eighteen hundred pound shell nearly eight miles, and (2) the Paris Gun, a siege cannon able to fire its shell eighty miles!

As soldiers like C.S. Lewis and J.R.R. Tolkien rallied to the flag and fought the Huns, they would eventually be issued more protective equipment. But it didn’t exist at the war’s outset. And even with it, Lewis was severely wounded in combat. in 1939 he wrote, “My memories of the last war haunted my dreams for years.”

The irony about metal helmets is that even ancient peoples recognized the importance of protecting the skulls of their warriors with the strongest materials available. In my office I have a replica Roman legionary helmet. Trust me, it was capable of saving lives.

Today’s combat helmets are highly advanced, and great effort is made to protect military members from head trauma. Sending them into battle with anything less than the best equipment available should be a crime.

DC’s Absurd Educational Policies

Most Americans are sadly disappointed with the deplorable state of our current federal government. (Many of us feel the same about our state governments, but that’s another matter.)

When we talk about (Washington) DC, we are almost always referring to the foibles of our national government . . .  but we often ignore the bizarre machinations of the “municipal” government which oversees the city itself.

Some of the city’s foolishness makes the federal government appear wise in comparison.

Case in point. DC public schools are in shambles. Rather than improve the schools themselves, lawmakers have come up with an innovative solution: Require all of the students to apply for higher education!

Yes, that’s what Kwame Brown and his fellow bureaucrats have proposed.

Forcing students unable to complete high school requirements to apply for college. Right. One brilliant solution to a failed educational system.

Since it’s doubtful that diverting time and energy from actual studies to this questionable exercise will solve the underlying problems, we can hope that the proposed legislation dies an swift death.

In 1868 Samuel Clemens (Mark Twain) judged Washington, D.C. with his razor-bladed pen:

This everlasting compelling of honesty, morality, justice and the law to bend the knee to policy, is the rottenest thing in a republican form of government. It is cowardly, degraded and mischievous; and in its own good time it will bring destruction upon this broad-shouldered fabric of ours. I believe the Prince of Darkness could start a branch hell in the District of Columbia (if he has not already done it), and carry it on unimpeached by the Congress of the United States, even though the Constitution were bristling with articles forbidding hells in this country. And if there were moneyed offices in it, Congress would take stock in the concern, too . . .

God, spare us from the whims of those in political authority over us!

The brilliant C.S. Lewis identified one aspect of the faulty thinking exemplified by this proposed statute. He placed on the lips of the devil Screwtape this sure way to cripple a nation.

The basic principal of the new education is to be that dunces and idlers must not be made to feel inferior to intelligent and industrious pupils. That would be “undemocratic.”

Educational Headaches

Doing a bit of research about Chinese poetry, I came across a fascinating sentiment that has been reverberated across the centuries since it was first penned by Du Fu in the eighth century.

Du Fu was a prominent poet and a dedicated civil servant who believed in making his kingdom a better place for all. He lived during a tumultuous era and survived several major revolts. (Such turmoil is often said to provide fertile fodder for the poet’s heart.)

At one point he earned the displeasure of the emperor and was demoted to a position as Commissioner of Education. He served diligently but found the duties onerous. Foremost among his complaints was the timeless curse of administrators and teachers:

I am about to scream madly in the office.

Especially when they bring more papers to pile higher on my desk.

It’s true that most of us get buried under greater mounds of paperwork as we advance in our careers . . . but it is a particular shame when teachers (people who are there in the trenches because they love kids) suffocate under stifling piles of trivial record-keeping debris.

If you’re interested in reading a couple of verses composed by Du Fu, you can find them on the internet. Or, you could wait a couple weeks for the release of Curtana 2.2 (the free journal I edit), and read them there.

The Inklings (especially C.S. Lewis and J.R.R. Tolkien) are exemplars of the tradition of dedicated patriots and poets who devoted their energies to improving our world. And, I doubt you’d need to search very hard to find in their writings an echo of this disaffection for the piles of meaningless work each of them had to wade through during their prolific lives.

A Font for All Seasons

There are a variety of ailments that disproportionately affect writers. Mundane disorders such as Repetitive Stress Injury, Computer Eyestrain and assorted carbuncles arise as no surprise. But there is another, psychological malady that can cripple an author’s creativity and savage his time schedule.

A fascination with fonts is a logical curiosity among people who love words. You can find stylized fonts reflecting for almost any special interest. In fact, just four months ago the total number of fonts surpassed the population of the planet. An affection for different fonts is one thing . . . but an obsession is quite another. Addicts are commonly referred to as “fontaholics.”

There truly are fonts for all seasons . . . too many versions to number. As an example of a unique font, you can check out Narnia BLL.

This lovely lettering is inspired by the recent films about the land of C.S. Lewis’ anointed Chronicles.

And It’s Not Just about Aesthetics

Recently a Dutch scholar devised a nefont specifically for people suffering from dyslexia.

Their approach, based on “weighting” the various letters and symbols, has been shown to improve readability for dyslexics. (Truth is, it would probably make reading easier for anyone.) Some see this new font as reinforcing prior studies which show serif fonts to be more legible than sans serif versions.

Whether you consider yourself immune to the lure of fonts, or are a self-confessed fontaholic, it’s a field about which every writer should understand the basics.