The Language and Culture of Shalom
Marcus Briggs-Cloud is a linguist and the co-director of Ekvn-Yefolecv, "an Indigenous ecovillage community in Weogufka, Alabama comprised of Maskoke persons who have returned to their ancestral homelands to practice linguistic, cultural, and ecological sustainability." Years ago he resolved to revitalize the language of his people before it completely died out. The Maskoke people depend on communal ceremonies which renew their relationship to the world, ceremonies which depend on the specific vocabulary embedded in their language. As Briggs-Clouds notes, "No language means no ceremony; no ceremony means Maskoke People will perish." You can understand why saving a language projected to disappear by 2040 felt so urgent.
But in his attempt to save Maskoke language, Briggs-Cloud ran into a problem. Surrounded by the norms and assumptions of Western culture, Maskoke people continually had to reach for English words to describe concepts and situations that had no precedent in their own culture. And by importing English words to adequately describe the impact of Western culutre, Briggs-Cloud and his people "would find our Indigenous ontological worldview, that is inextricably tied to the natural world, flipped upside-down." The linguist was faced with a dilemma: admit the inevitable demise of his people's language and culture or embark down a more radical path. He chose the latter.
The result of Briggs-Cloud's refusal to surrender his language and culture is Ekvn-Yefolecv. In addition to being a haven for the Maskoke language, the ecovillage is a model of sustainability, environmentally friendly farming practices, and decolonized curriculum for their children. The members of Ekvn-Yefolecv understand that they are not "exempt from globalization or climate crisis" but this community is allowing their language and culture to flourish. Their commitments, radical from a certain vantage point, were the common sense steps necessary to ensure their survival.
I've thought a lot about the Ekvn-Yefolecv community since first reading about it. One of Briggs-Cloud's important insights is that culture requires a distinct language and that this language must be rooted in a particular community. What are the implications for those of us who are seeking God's shalom in our own particular communities? I've thought of three.
First, what sort of language is required to articulate a vision of God's justice in places so thoroughly shaped by injustice? The tendency, in my experience, is to search the contemporary lexicon for words which approximate the values of shalom, harmony, and righteousness which we read about in Scripture. Steeped in the competition and consumption instigated by consumer capitalism, the language we use is often compromised from the beginning. Our attempts to co-opt mechanical and technical metaphors to describe the values of a kingdom that advances by grace and gift fall woefully short. In fact, rather than serving as the entry to a new world, our default language ensures that God's shalom will not disrupt our violent and exploitative status quo.
Second, if our contemporary dialect fails to form cultures of shalom, we'll need to choose the slow process of developing vocabularies which do. We have seen, all too regularly these days, the sad results of church communities built on the assumptions of the dominant culture. Celebrity, spectacle, and homogeneity cannot sustain a hilltop city amidst so many creeping shadows. We'll need to undertake the multi-generational responsibility of learning a culture sustaining way of talking. We might begin, simply enough, with prioritizing the biological and ecological speech so common in Scripture. These words, and the assumptions behind them, remind us that God alone can accomplish his purposes. They are not ours to commodify or manipulate. A language rooted in the imagination of Scripture will align us with the Creator as well as with the rest of creation. We'll begin to understand our distinct place - our counterculture - as a people of salt and light.
Finally, the cyclical nature of language and culture reveals the urgency of strongly defined community. While one of the characteristics of Christian community is radical hospitality to the stranger, we offer that welcome from our own culturally out-of-step location. Knowing that shalom requires a distinct language and culture - a way of describing and seeing the world which allows us to participate in God's righteousness and justice - we'll resist the suggestions whispered by marketers and bankers to make ourselves relevant. Instead, we'll nurture communities where our language and culture can thrive. How we do this, as people called to love the world without expecting to be loved by it, is a persistent question faced by Christians and we only need to answer it for our own particular time and place. What's important is that our communities are forming people whose language and culture nurture shalom amid circumstances which typically don't.
I hope the Ekvn-Yefolecv ecovillage thrives for many generations. I hope many of our churches will find our own ways to follow their example.
(Photo: Members of the Ekvn-Yefolecv ecovillage.)
I've been enjoying these live video conversations this month. Next up is the incomparable Latasha Morrison of Be the Bridge! Register for the Zoom link or you can join on Facebook.
If you'll be in Chicago the week before Juneteenth, you really ought to attend this conference hosted by my friend Rev. Dr. Charlie Dates and Progressive Baptist Church.