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Jesus said to them, "…have
you never read, ‘Out of the mouths of infants and nursing
babies you have prepared praise for yourself’?"
(Matt. 21:16)
December 2000
Dear Friends,
Judy and I have been on a new assignment, since
August 8, in Haiti for the Presbyterian Church (U.S.A.). Language-learning
is the first task of missionaries on new assignments. For those
of us who are not gifted linguistically, and who are "chronologically
challenged" besides, mastery of a new language is a major
undertaking. We have spent our first three months here devoted
exclusively to language study, and we can barely converse even
yet! The frustrations of learning a new language remind us again
of a very special gift God has given human beings: the gift of
language. The Psalmist, quoted above by Jesus (on the first Palm
Sunday), marveled at how even babies and infants begin to acquire
language very early in life, and how quickly they learn songs
of praises to God. Christmas season is a special time for children
to learn new songs and carols, praising God and enriching our
religious celebrations.
Nothing is more distinctively "human"
than the gift of language. It is the basis of all our socialization
and of all our learning. Without language, we could have enemies,
but never close friends. And without language we would never learn
of the incredible gift which God has given us all: the Lord Jesus
Christ, our Savior. It all begins with language.
The Haitian Creole language contains many marvelous
proverbs. These contain clues to Haitian survival under the harsh
circumstances so prevalent here for centuries. Their proverbs
also reflect a certain irrepressible joy of living. A particularly
poignant proverb for us just now is:
Si ou pa gen lang, ou pa manje. ("If
you don’t have a tongue, you don’t eat.")
That succinct statement alludes to the centrality
of language in human existence. In Haitian Creole, "lang"
means "tongue" and also "language." When you
are suddenly thrust into an environment where virtually no one
speaks your own language, you are helpless. You can’t make
small talk, you can’t buy anything, you can’t ask for
water, for food, for a ride, for directions anywhere, for the
price of anything. You don’t know the days of the week, the
months of the year, nor even how to count. You can’t answer
when someone just asks you to please tell them the time.
During my career as a physician I have been
impressed at the devastating effects of some strokes on adults.
If strokes involve the language centers of the brain, it leaves
people in an almost subhuman state. Language is just that important.
The sounds of words, which have come to mean so much to us all
our lives, can become meaningless gibberish after a stroke. After
some other types of strokes, the ability to hear and to understand
remain intact, but the ability to formulate speech is lost completely.
Language learning is not as big a problem as
trying to overcome a major stroke, of course, but sometimes it
almost seems so! In fact, as language students of "mature
age," we wonder if we’re having a series of "mini-strokes"
every day! Sometimes we think we’ve learned a word, but then
realize it’s gone when we see it a week later, or when trying
to remember it in conversation. Our brains have become more like
sieves than sponges. We sense the real meaning of "having
to work at it." Creole has a fitting proverb, of course:
Sot pa touye ou, men l’fe ou swe.
( "Stupidity isn’t lethal, but it sure makes you sweat!")
Yet through all those sweaty difficulties, we
find that God gives us resources to pull us on. We started our
language study in late August in a suburb of Port-au-Prince, Haiti’s
capital. Our tutor was a theological student, a very committed
young Christian man, and so very patient with us! We lived there
with a Haitian family who have seven children, ranging in age
from sub-teens to mid-20s. We quickly learned that life in Port-au-Prince
is full of problems. At the end of September we came up to this
remote, rural area where life is much less hectic. We have been
continuing our learning with local teachers, our hospital translator,
books, and audio tapes. It will take years for us to gain real
fluency, but each week or month seems to be a bit "better."
And for that, Creole has yet another proverb: "Deye mon,
gen mon." "Beyond the mountains…are more mountains!"
Haiti is very mountainous. Communication, language learning, can
be thought of as a life-long process of mountain climbing. We
haven’t even climbed the first mountain here yet. But, like
the infants the Psalmist referred to, our mouths can now begin
to sing God’s praises—in a new tongue! Those songs will
be new Christmas carols to our ears, and no doubt we’ll hear
some wonderful Haitian tunes. We’re definitely not infants
anymore; we’d give anything to be able to talk even like
five-year-olds at this point! But now it’s time for us to
start hospital work, and to continue climbing.
As we all join our voices in songs of praise
this Advent season, let us also be thankful for God’s very
special gift of human language, a gift that enriches our lives
every day. Peace, joy, and God’s blessings to you in abundance,
as we celebrate again the incredible Christmas story, God’s
special gift to us all, Jesus, the Christ, our Savior.
In Christ,
Paul & Judy Jewett
The 2001 Mission Yearbook for Prayer
& Study, p. 245
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