For some reason (now lost in the fog that descends regularly on my neural pathways), I was reading the words of Wesley’s ‘O for a thousand tongues’ the other day. I don’t remember why I was reading, but I do remember being struck by what I read: “Jesus, the name that calms our fears …” I was sure that it wasn’t quite right. Sure enough, it wasn’t; Wesley actually penned “Jesus, the name that charms our fears”.
I thought to myself, there’s a church planting lesson in that.
So what was the lesson? Well, it’s a lesson about contextualization and the gospel. Why have we changed the word from ‘charm’ to ‘calm’? I’m sure it wasn’t to save a letter. It was to modernize the hymn—to make it relevant. But what have we lost in the process?
It’s a question worth asking because, although Wesley was writing in the 18th century, as he looked along the shelves of available words, there were just as many tins of calm as there were of charm. He could have chosen calm, but he didn’t. Why not? While I cannot get into Wesley’s mind in order to answer the question, I can reflect on the different uses of the words. Here are two definitions from an abridged version of Samuel Johnson’s Dictionary, first published in 1755. (Unfortunately the earliest copy I can get my hands on is 1836, but it’ll do, I think.)
- calm: to quiet, pacify, still, compose
- charm: to bewitch, delight, appease
In a superstitious culture full of people held captive by witchcraft and spiritual falsehood, charm says something that calm does not: Jesus is the power that truly deals with our fears. Your superstitious rituals do not. I suspect that Wesley chose the word with great care.
Now, there are lots of lessons here, and I’m going to come back to some more of them in coming posts. But, given our new-found blogness here at The Sola Panel, I’m going to deal with them one at a time! So my first point today is this: did the person who changed the hymn from ‘charm’ to ‘calm’ so it would be more accessible know what they were losing and what they were gaining? It may seem like a small thing, but it is a huge change in meaning. Our chances of thinking about spiritual forces and witchcraft when we read the word ‘calm’ in the 21st century are virtually nil.
Now, what if we weren’t talking Wesley, but were instead talking about the Bible? When we try and apply the Scriptures and speak God’s message to a modern audience in a way that they will understand (which we absolutely must do), do we realize what we’re losing and what we’re gaining?
This is one of the reasons why I want to keep arguing for theologically trained church planters. One of the most complex jobs in the world is contextualizing the gospel in new situations without robbing it of its force and meaning. I am all for having activists with ideas (God save us from a bunch of ivory tower boffins!), but activists with ideas aren’t always aware of what they’re throwing away. What we need to work out is how to get our theological thinkers and passionate activists working together to hold onto the gospel while preaching it afresh in an ever-changing context. And at least part of the solution is persuading the church planting activists to keep doing what doesn’t always come naturally—to do the hard theological yards.
Nice one, Grimmo.
It also relates to some of your thoughts about reading the Bible with kids. It can be quite a challenge to explain the Bible’s teaching to young children in a way that is both simple enough for them to grasp, and yet not a fudge on what the Bible actually says. You’ve got to understand something very clearly in order to simplify it, or express it in a new way. Same with contextualization. Or rather, that is contextualization.
TP
Hey, if those activits want a red-hot theological education, we ‘boffins’ here at Moore are ready and waiting!
Yes!! It frustrates me that so few of our best theologians end up in pioneering church planting but are usually steered towards academic positions. I think this is perhaps the most theologically demanding work of all since you are often working without structures which provide a safety net. It needs the best minds (along with the can-do activists) to establish churches with a good foundation.
I’m a little bewitched myself … If we are saying that the sense of the line is “Jesus deals with our supernatural fears”, the “calm” works fine with me, and actually conveys the message better in my own mind. What does it mean for a fear to be “delighted” or “bewitched”? “Appeased” I can work with. Is this the particular definition Wesley was going with? Please calm/charm my confusion!
Hi Martin,
I’m interested to know why you are happy with appeased and not with bewitched?
At first, your arguments sounded very similar to the likes of some of the fundy KJV-Only crowd.
Whereas they opt to remain “charmed”, I was “calmed” to see you still included or alluded to the necessity of contextualisation.
Looking forward to more on this theme.
An abridged version of Johnson’s dictionary that was published 81 years after the original? We can do better than that
The Internet Archive holds a 6th Edition copy of Johnson’s dictionary, published 1785 (see http://www.archive.org/details/dictionaryofengl01johnuoft). Page 366 contains the entry for “charm”, which I’ve copied below, minus the usage quotes taken from poetry of Shakespeare, Bacon, Dryden, etc. The ſ character is the long s.
CHARM, n.ſ. [charme, Fr. carmen, Latin.]
1. Words, or philtres, or characters, imagined to have ſome occult or unintelligible power.
2. Something of power to ſubdue oppoſition, and gain the affections ; ſomething that can pleaſe irreſiſtibly.
To CHARM, v. a. [from the noun.]
1. To fortify with charms againſt evil.
2. To make powerful by charms
3. To ſummon by incantation.
4. To ſubdue by ſome ſecret power ; to amaze ; to overpower.
5. To ſubdue the mind by pleaſure.
CHA’RMED. adj. Enchanted.
CHA’RMER. n. ſ. [from charm.]
1. One that has the power of charms or enchantments.
2. Word of endeament among lovers.
CHA’RMING. particip. adj. [from charm.] Pleaſing in the highest degree.
CHA’RMINGNESS. n. ſ. [from charming.] The power of pleaſing.