Stock photo: Liza Summer via Pexels

Topics: Ethical Living | Opinion

Holy sh*t! Why studying theology has me swearing more than ever

You’d think cursing might decrease with studying the divine, but heck no

 | 

When we first picked up our puppy 1o years ago, the woman who sold him to us said “good boy” to him as she said farewell. I, dogless until that moment, thought to myself, “Oh, right, that’s what people say to dogs.” Over the years, it has become a significant part of my silly patter to him: that he is so good, the goodest dog, a good boy, and, as he ages, I sometimes tell him he’s a good man. 

This year I went back to school to study theology. Or rather, I went to the desk in the corner of my bedroom to study theology on Zoom. It felt like the right move pre-COVID and all the more as my regular work experienced COVID cuts. 

I’ve laughed at myself this year because, at the same time as I’ve been learning about church history and devotional classics, I’ve found myself starting to swear like a sailor. 


More on Broadview:


I didn’t curse much before this. I never had to rein in a potty mouth around my kids because the words just never came to mind. It wasn’t that I was entirely against swearing – I’ve long heard the health benefits of letting off a string of profanities – it just felt like a failure of imagination and vocabulary to have to resort to such words to express your needs and feelings. It pays to enrich one’s word power, as Reader’s Digest would tell you. 

Not 2020 me. Nor the 2021 model. Instead, I now curse with creative abandon and striking regularity, and no longer simply when I’m frustrated. I said, one day, to my husband that it seemed counter-intuitive that as my theological studies flourished, so too had my profanity. You’d imagine a person’s swearing might decrease, but hell no. 

I’ve got a couple of theories about why my language has become more profane as my studies have become more sacred. One is that both theological studies and swearing require a kind of emotional honesty. There’s not one Church Lady among my classmates. There are atheists and agnostics as well as academics and future and present clergy. But they are people wrestling with the nature of a higher power and the implications of having faith in such a power. They’re – we’re – people having to be honest about their own prejudices, wishful thinking and doubts as well as our faith. There is an honesty to this program that might go unsuspected in popular imagination: it’s a lot closer to Alcoholics Anonymous than Dana Carvey’s pursed-lipped hypocrisy. And I’ve come to see that same honesty perhaps is found in the lament and honest prayer of expletives. 

Lately, I’ve started to wonder if my bad words come out of another place, which brings me back to my dog. Scratching and begging for food at the table aside (his besetting sins), he is a good boy. But it was Carl Jung who identified how we humans live our conscious lives trying to be good dogs, making the best choices we can (pay attention on Zoom while supervising online school, wash your hands, reply to the emails, recycle, Zoom some more, lather, rinse and repeat). At the same time, though, another part of us rebels and requires expression. Jung called it the shadow side of the human personality. And as much as it sounds like a new way to guilt us, our shadow isn’t so much bad, as opposite. Much as an actual shadow inverts the exact shape of whatever stands between it and the sun. 

And sometimes, when we’ve been the goodest dog for too long, we need somehow to find a balanced expression, to let ourselves be fully human, rather than machine. Think of our shadow as freedom rather than a crime. 

I’m not sure whether my swearing stems from my theology studies, my complete compliance to public health directives, or some combination. But, I am increasingly becoming weary of behaving well. A friend of mine has beagles that regularly climb on her counters to eat butter and other forbidden foods. “Make better choices!” she yells at them. As for me, I want to make worse choices. At the very least, I want to stop having to constantly make good choices, to ease up on the constant weighing of risk and responsibilities.

I don’t have to scratch hard to know that I’m not the goodest dog. In fact, part of why I study theology is because I feel in my bones what the voice of my generation said in the book actually called Generation X: “Now — here is my secret: I tell it to you with an openness of heart that I doubt I shall ever achieve again, so I pray that you are in a quiet room as you hear these words. My secret is that I need God.”

Being so good wears on me, and apparently requires the honest corrective of swearing to balance me out. It also lies in the honest searching place that is theology, groping and hoping that there really is a good dog – damnit – a good God.

***

Susan Fish is a novelist, editor and theology student who lives with her husband, dog and young-adult children in Waterloo, Ont.


We hope you found this Broadview article engaging. 

Our team is working hard to bring you more independent, award-winning journalism. But Broadview is a nonprofit and these are tough times for magazines. Please consider supporting our work. There are a number of ways to do so:

  • Subscribe to our magazine and you’ll receive intelligent, timely stories and perspectives delivered to your home 8 times a year. 
  • Donate to our Friends Fund.
  • Give the gift of Broadview to someone special in your life and make a difference!

Thank you for being such wonderful readers.

Jocelyn Bell

Editor/Publisher

Comments

Leave a Comment

Your email address will not be published.


  • says:

    Perhaps your "theology" courses are making you more conscience of your swearing. I would also challenge you to look at your life from a Biblical standpoint, rather than Jung's standpoint. He emphasized the mind and soul as the primary makeup of man. This stressed individuality.

    Christianity emphasizes mind, soul and Spirit. This stresses community.

    As for swearing, if it offends others don't do it. (1 Corinthians 8 and Romans 14) If you inadvertently teach your children to swear, it is your obligation to explain that it may offend others, and better not to say it (safe) than be sorry.

  • says:

    I studied theology and became a designated lay minister, but it never affected my vocabulary--perhaps because I grew up with a mother whose worst swear word was "damn", and so infrequent we all laughed when she said it. I do still feel uncomfortable when I hear blasphemy, although I admit to being rather vulgar by times. I have just never understood the impulse to take the Lord's name in vain, although my late husband did so on a regular basis!

  • says:

    Broadview loves to give space to these 'campy' type would be students of theology who love to speak of themselves. How about sharing something about the theology of John 1 if you are going to talk theologically about words. "In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God". The Word of God in Christ is the integrity of God's love. its not about your penchant for swearing.

  • says:

    I don't understand the point of this piece. Studying theology isn't about trying to be "good." However as we learn more and more about the early Christian church there is indeed much to swear about.

  • says:

    This article reminds me of the account of a monk taking a visitor on a tour of the monastery grounds: "Over there in the barn, we keep the holy cow. Down in that lake, we keep the holy mackerel. And, across the yard in that outhouse, you can guess what we keep."

    I've heard a lot of profanity in my life and get used to the sh*t and the f-word and hell and damn. But I still get quite upset when people throw Jesus or God into their expressions. We need to respect the Holy.