sarcasm
I have to admit. I'm not a fan of sarcasm.
By definition sarcasm means to "speak bitterly." "Taunting, sneering, cutting remarks with intent to harm." "An insincere form of politeness meant to offend." "To tear flesh like dogs."
My flesh has definitely been torn by sarcastic comments. Ones aimed at me and even more so ones aimed at the people I love.
We claim that sarcasm is in good fun. With no malicious intent.
But more often it seems to reveal hidden feelings. Anger. Frustration. Annoyance. Judgment. Bitterness. Regret. Fear.
At the Women of Faith conference, however, one of the speakers redeemed sarcasm for me. At least a little.
Angie Smith was a great emcee. Witty, smart, adorable in every way. But when she got up to lead the final teaching session you could see that her heart was heavy. She talked about feeling unworthy. She talked about doubting God. She talked about learning in her 20th week of pregnancy that her daughter would die before taking her first breath, and the choice to carry her to term regardless of what the doctors said.
And so her occasional insertions of sarcasm were a welcome relief. Because they weren't meant to harm. They were meant to take the edge off. To make us laugh in the midst of life's worst. To remind us we can't take life too seriously. They were meant to poke fun at the things we often tell ourselves that aren't even remotely biblical (for example, that we are bad people if we occasionally doubt the existence of God).
Perhaps we need to reclaim sarcasm for what it could be. A tension reliever. An instigator of laughter. A reminder that life is so far beyond our control that there is no point trying to control it.
But we really need to stop using it according to its Webster's definition. Because there is nothing nice about "tearing flesh."
embrace sarcasm.
But only if you can do it nicely.
By definition sarcasm means to "speak bitterly." "Taunting, sneering, cutting remarks with intent to harm." "An insincere form of politeness meant to offend." "To tear flesh like dogs."
My flesh has definitely been torn by sarcastic comments. Ones aimed at me and even more so ones aimed at the people I love.
We claim that sarcasm is in good fun. With no malicious intent.
But more often it seems to reveal hidden feelings. Anger. Frustration. Annoyance. Judgment. Bitterness. Regret. Fear.
At the Women of Faith conference, however, one of the speakers redeemed sarcasm for me. At least a little.
Angie Smith was a great emcee. Witty, smart, adorable in every way. But when she got up to lead the final teaching session you could see that her heart was heavy. She talked about feeling unworthy. She talked about doubting God. She talked about learning in her 20th week of pregnancy that her daughter would die before taking her first breath, and the choice to carry her to term regardless of what the doctors said.
And so her occasional insertions of sarcasm were a welcome relief. Because they weren't meant to harm. They were meant to take the edge off. To make us laugh in the midst of life's worst. To remind us we can't take life too seriously. They were meant to poke fun at the things we often tell ourselves that aren't even remotely biblical (for example, that we are bad people if we occasionally doubt the existence of God).
Perhaps we need to reclaim sarcasm for what it could be. A tension reliever. An instigator of laughter. A reminder that life is so far beyond our control that there is no point trying to control it.
But we really need to stop using it according to its Webster's definition. Because there is nothing nice about "tearing flesh."
embrace sarcasm.
But only if you can do it nicely.
Embrace sarcasm? This one, I think I am already good at :-). Nice blog as always Katie!!!
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