20th-Century postmodern philosophers like Derrida, Foucault, and others all teach an essential truth: language matters. The words and discourse used to describe reality in turn actually create and construct that very reality. Those who control the words and terms control how reality is perceived. I won’t explain the whole theory in what I hope is a short essay, but some examples commonly used are rights discourse (used to justify violence against those seen as having no rights) or nation-state discourse (used to unify the nation against the outsiders). These philosophers argue that language not only fails to describe the world as it truly is, but it also inevitably inscribes the values and taboos of the ruling class. Institutions of oppression are inevitably established, masked by a linguistic system that justifies it.
Interestingly enough, the biblical story of the Tower of Babel also addresses this philosophical truth. In the story, the whole world has one common language. One group of people decides to create a city (Babel) with a tower that reaches to the heavens so that “we may make a name for ourselves, and not be scattered over the face of the whole earth” (Genesis 11:4). We can see their fear of being conquered and divided. Their response is to group together, unified by a single language, build a fortress city, and defend against those who wish to scatter them. By their common language, they seek to control the entire world.
God, however, does not like this. Babel is the establishment of the first empire, and while it is not a threat to God, he knows that such a dominant power would wreak immeasurable pain, havoc, and suffering on earth. Thus God says, “Let us go down and confuse their language so that they will not understand each other”. They do so, and the empire is halted in its tracks. The very thing Babel was created to defend against—its people being scattered—is in fact what happens to them.
God’s intervention at Babel creates other languages, and thus more opportunities for different people groups to rise up with their own languages of oppression. But God is more willing to have that than a singular language that could dominate everybody. Indeed, by scattering the people of Babel, God is actually putting humans back on the path he originally intended for them in Genesis 1, to “be fruitful, multiply, and fill the earth”, which would inevitably result in a diverse array of cultures, foods, clothing, and human appearances. Diversity of language and culture was always part of God’s plan.
What’s interesting is that throughout the Hebrew Bible, the word for “Babylon” is not just similar, it’s exactly the same as the word for “Babel.” Thus every time we see Babylon come up later in scripture, the poetic-spiritual connection must automatically be made to the Tower of Babel and to the idea of language. The destruction of the Temple and the burning of Jerusalem in 587B.C.: Babel. The beginning of the Israelite captivity: Babel. Babel sees [herself] as God: “I will continue forever—the eternal queen!” Babel proclaims in Isaiah 47,“I am, and there is none besides me.” Babel is the eternal evil empire, the narrative foil for the people of Israel throughout the Hebrew scriptures. Babel is an archetype, a symbol for empire, domination, greed, and spiritual adultery. Even 500 years later, in the Christian New Testament, John uses the image of Babel/Babylon to illustrate the brokenness of humans (even though the actual Babylonian empire had been conquered by Persia far earlier).
In Revelation 17, Babel is depicted as a woman in a desert sitting on a scarlet beast. The beast is covered with blasphemous names: words so evil that merely writing them down was a crime—again highlighting the connection between wrongful language and evil. Later in Revelation, we learn that the woman Babel “is the great city that rules over the kings of the earth”, that the merchants all trade their goods with her, and that she is the murderer God’s people. Babel is the locus of all power, wealth, and violence against God and his people. All empires can truthfully call Babel their mother.
It therefore makes sense that in John’s vision Babel’s violent destruction is met with wild celebration in heaven. At last!— the evil city that is the spiritual signifier for every emperor, greedy merchant, and persecutor of innocents has been thrown down. With the final destruction of Babel, God’s holy city (New Jerusalem) can descend from heaven. In New Jerusalem are people from every nation and language; gone is the false unity that Babel attempted to impose. God’s Kingdom instead brings peaceful diversity. What an image!
But is there hope in the here and now? What can Christians such as myself do to battle the empire of Babel all around us? Hatred, greed, racism, domination—they surround us all, and many of God’s people give themselves up to these things. Whether it is out of fear of “being scattered”, or ignorance, or perhaps because we have bought into the myths of Empire, too many Christians see serving the nation-state above God and engaging in imperialism or domination as acceptable and even admirable practices.
But God gives us a “linguistic turn” to flee the colonizing language of Babel. And that is through Jesus, the Word. As John 1:1 states, “In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God.” (John 1 is perhaps the most incredible chapter in the Bible from a philosophical philological perspective.) God seems to know that He cannot be completely translated into human language, so he must become human. Jesus is God’s translation: all of God’s words, logic, and law revealed in one single being. In order to speak God’s language, his Words, we follow Jesus.
And Jesus behaves in an entirely anti-Babel manner. He wants his followers scattered, that doesn’t bother him in the least. He eschews violence. He opposes all who seek empire, Roman and Jewish alike. He cares little for nationalism, instead seeking out the “Others” around him: women, Samaritans/Palestinians, Romans, slaves, the poor… Jesus shows us how to break the curse of Babel. And that’s through unconditional love and forgiveness. It’s as if he’s saying to humans: “Stop trying to make a name for yourselves—I’ll give you a new name”.
Ultimately, rather than overthrow Babel by force, and so become leader of a new Babel, Jesus willingly lets himself be tortured and killed by the biggest, most powerful empire the Middle East had ever seen–Rome. He endures the absolute worst that humanity has to throw at him, and even forgives them in the midst of that: “Father, forgive them, for they know not what they are doing.” Three days later he rises from the grave, once and for all defeating the final tool of the oppressor—the threat of death.
If that were all Jesus did, that would be enough. But there’s more! In Pentecost, we see another linguistic turn. The Holy Spirit comes upon the disciples and they proclaim the good news of Jesus to a diverse crowd from every nation known to the residents of the Middle East—yet each listener hears words in their own language. Babel, where language was confused, is finally reversed, but in a totally unexpected way; it’s not that everyone suddenly speaks the same language. Instead each person hears the Gospel in their own home language. It is a foretaste of Heaven, where every single nation, tribe, and tongue will worship God all as a great multitude (Rev. 7:9).
In the present day, the Holy Spirit is God living inside of humans who choose to follow Jesus, enabling us to speak and live out God’s language as Jesus did. That may mean physical miracles, or speaking in tongues, or prophecy. And it may mean living in an anti-Babel manner, by loving our enemies, aiding the oppressed, and reaching out to the Other. But in all of this, we must speak in the language of Jesus, the one who did not seek to have power over others, but instead willingly laid down his life. We cannot advance the Kingdom of Jesus with the language and tools of Babel, as tempting as they may be. For those of us who have been raised in empire, in Babylon, all our lives, we will have to learn a radically new way of being, thinking, and speaking. It is hard, but that is the way of Jesus.
(This essay is adapted from a post I originally wrote in 2011).