Shea Rowell
Class of 2019

In the beginning was the Word

Shea Rowell
MSMU Class of 2019

In the first novel she ever wrote, Northanger Abbey, Jane Austen allows her narrator a bit of a soapbox moment. She addresses those who claim that reading literature is a waste of time: "It is only a novel..." she writes, "or, in short, only some work in which the greatest powers of the mind are displayed, in which the most thorough knowledge of human nature, the happiest delineation of its varieties, the liveliest effusions of wit and humour, are conveyed to the world in the best-chosen language." From the perspective of an English major studying Austen’s novels, this quotation fills me with joy each time I read it, because it beautifully captures the power of the written word, which I have always believed in.

It may sound old-fashioned, and perhaps it is, but the written word carries history’s weight as the most versatile and effective form of human communication. Our nation’s existence owes itself to the written word: the Federalist papers that rallied the colonies behind the idea of unification against the British Empire, and the Declaration of Independence which initiated our fight for freedom; the Emancipation Proclamation which freed American men, women, and children from their bondage in slavery; Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr.’s "Letter from Birmingham Jail," and his iconic, "I have a dream" speech that changed the hearts of many Americans, black and white, in support of a better nation for us all.

Even in a town as small as Emmitsburg, it is the written word that preserves its history: past, present, and future. It is the letters in the hand writing of St. Elizabeth Ann Seton and Fr. John DuBois that display the over two-hundred-year-old story of Mount St. Mary’s University, St. Joseph’s College, the Sisters of St. Joseph, and the Sisters, now Daughters, of Charity. It is the old copies of the Emmitsburg Chronicle that remind us where we came from as a town; that document the daily lives, losses, and gains of Emmitsburg residents.

This is why historians and scholars mourn for the lost libraries of history, the books burned by world upheavals such as the treasures of the Library of Alexandria, the destruction of monasteries following the Protestant Reformation, and ancient religious texts following imperial conquests and transfers of military force. Language is power, which is why the powers of history have always been wary of dissenting words, why censorship is so central to the success of a repressive regime, and why free speech is such a threat to those whose power depends on fear.

Today, we live in a culture of images. A picture is worth a thousand words, or so they say. They catch our attention, attract our eyes, flood our minds through the screens of our televisions, computers, and phones. Images, of course, are effective communicators. They give us symbols we can recognize anywhere, allow us to share visual realities and provide access to parts of the world we may never see ourselves.

Images are particularly apt at creating beauty to please the eye. In this way, the image stands alone. When it comes to communication, however, a picture cannot exist without words to explain it, make sense of it, or guide its interpretation. A newspaper or magazine photo is nearly always accompanied by a caption and an article to give it context; even social media photos are incomplete without their captions, and the proceeding comment-section conversation. Words, however, can stand alone. Novels, articles, and social media posts are complete without a photo alongside them. Words, like images, can create beauty on their own as well. Fiction stories create elaborate worlds, characters, and plotlines. Poets create images of beauty, spirituality, and potency. The image creates beauty for the eye: the word for the imagination.

Language is the human mind’s greatest achievement; it is part of what makes us more than animals on an arbitrary evolutionary timeline. Humans not only feel, they express their feelings. They not only reflect and discover, but record and preserve their findings for the benefit of posterity. Language is an essential component of who we are as human beings, as members of communities, and as individuals. The languages we speak, the words we choose, and even the stylistic variations we employ reveal our personalities, preferences and quirks. When you write, you reveal yourself to the world.

One of my favorite literary examples of the centrality of words to the human person is from a sermon by the Anglican priest and poet, John Donne. In Meditation XVII, he compares the contents of the human soul to the contents of a book. He writes that "all mankind is of one author and is one volume; when one man dies, one chapter is not torn out of the book, but translated into a better language; and every chapter must be so translated. God employs several translators; some pieces are translated by age, some by sickness, some by war, some by justice; but God's hand is in every translation, and his hand shall bind up all our scattered leaves again for that library where every book shall lie open to one another." To create, God speaks. "God said, ‘Let there be light’ and there was light" (Genesis 1:3). His creation, then, is like his work of literature, in which each creature is the protagonist of his or her own story.

This metaphor rings true in many religious contexts. In Christianity, our Messiah is the incarnate Word of God. In Judaism, the most sacred and central treasure is the Tanakh, the Word and law of God. Likewise in Islam, the Qur’an cannot be handled with unwashed hands, or translated into other languages. In all three of the Abrahamic religions, the Word of God is sacred, central, and without it the religion is void. The written word is intimately linked with the human soul; it forms the link between the human and the divine. We were made in His image; we were made with His words.

In the beginning was the Word

Shea Rowell
MSMU Class of 2019

In the first novel she ever wrote, Northanger Abbey, Jane Austen allows her narrator a bit of a soapbox moment. She addresses those who claim that reading literature is a waste of time: "It is only a novel..." she writes, "or, in short, only some work in which the greatest powers of the mind are displayed, in which the most thorough knowledge of human nature, the happiest delineation of its varieties, the liveliest effusions of wit and humour, are conveyed to the world in the best-chosen language." From the perspective of an English major studying Austen’s novels, this quotation fills me with joy each time I read it, because it beautifully captures the power of the written word, which I have always believed in.

It may sound old-fashioned, and perhaps it is, but the written word carries history’s weight as the most versatile and effective form of human communication. Our nation’s existence owes itself to the written word: the Federalist papers that rallied the colonies behind the idea of unification against the British Empire, and the Declaration of Independence which initiated our fight for freedom; the Emancipation Proclamation which freed American men, women, and children from their bondage in slavery; Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr.’s "Letter from Birmingham Jail," and his iconic, "I have a dream" speech that changed the hearts of many Americans, black and white, in support of a better nation for us all.

Even in a town as small as Emmitsburg, it is the written word that preserves its history: past, present, and future. It is the letters in the hand writing of St. Elizabeth Ann Seton and Fr. John DuBois that display the over two-hundred-year-old story of Mount St. Mary’s University, St. Joseph’s College, the Sisters of St. Joseph, and the Sisters, now Daughters, of Charity. It is the old copies of the Emmitsburg Chronicle that remind us where we came from as a town; that document the daily lives, losses, and gains of Emmitsburg residents.

This is why historians and scholars mourn for the lost libraries of history, the books burned by world upheavals such as the treasures of the Library of Alexandria, the destruction of monasteries following the Protestant Reformation, and ancient religious texts following imperial conquests and transfers of military force. Language is power, which is why the powers of history have always been wary of dissenting words, why censorship is so central to the success of a repressive regime, and why free speech is such a threat to those whose power depends on fear.

Today, we live in a culture of images. A picture is worth a thousand words, or so they say. They catch our attention, attract our eyes, flood our minds through the screens of our televisions, computers, and phones. Images, of course, are effective communicators. They give us symbols we can recognize anywhere, allow us to share visual realities and provide access to parts of the world we may never see ourselves.

Images are particularly apt at creating beauty to please the eye. In this way, the image stands alone. When it comes to communication, however, a picture cannot exist without words to explain it, make sense of it, or guide its interpretation. A newspaper or magazine photo is nearly always accompanied by a caption and an article to give it context; even social media photos are incomplete without their captions, and the proceeding comment-section conversation. Words, however, can stand alone. Novels, articles, and social media posts are complete without a photo alongside them. Words, like images, can create beauty on their own as well. Fiction stories create elaborate worlds, characters, and plotlines. Poets create images of beauty, spirituality, and potency. The image creates beauty for the eye: the word for the imagination.

Language is the human mind’s greatest achievement; it is part of what makes us more than animals on an arbitrary evolutionary timeline. Humans not only feel, they express their feelings. They not only reflect and discover, but record and preserve their findings for the benefit of posterity. Language is an essential component of who we are as human beings, as members of communities, and as individuals. The languages we speak, the words we choose, and even the stylistic variations we employ reveal our personalities, preferences and quirks. When you write, you reveal yourself to the world.

One of my favorite literary examples of the centrality of words to the human person is from a sermon by the Anglican priest and poet, John Donne. In Meditation XVII, he compares the contents of the human soul to the contents of a book. He writes that "all mankind is of one author and is one volume; when one man dies, one chapter is not torn out of the book, but translated into a better language; and every chapter must be so translated. God employs several translators; some pieces are translated by age, some by sickness, some by war, some by justice; but God's hand is in every translation, and his hand shall bind up all our scattered leaves again for that library where every book shall lie open to one another." To create, God speaks. "God said, ‘Let there be light’ and there was light" (Genesis 1:3). His creation, then, is like his work of literature, in which each creature is the protagonist of his or her own story.

This metaphor rings true in many religious contexts. In Christianity, our Messiah is the incarnate Word of God. In Judaism, the most sacred and central treasure is the Tanakh, the Word and law of God. Likewise in Islam, the Qur’an cannot be handled with unwashed hands, or translated into other languages. In all three of the Abrahamic religions, the Word of God is sacred, central, and without it the religion is void. The written word is intimately linked with the human soul; it forms the link between the human and the divine. We were made in His image; we were made with His words.

Read other articles by Shea Rowell