In the swimming pool the other morning, conversation drifted onto the topic of recipes. One lady who hails from Texas proceeded to give me her recipe for what she referred to as cornbread 'dressing.' In my preferred patois, 'stuffing' is the word, not 'dressing.' And so in our little conversation I kept using the 's' word. In mock irritation she finally replied, "It's dressing; call it what it is." She was not really irritated, but she was serious that things should be called what they are.
Thereon hinges a philosophical point, one which of course I did not pursue with the matron. The point is that people often succumb to what Rudolf Carnap at the beginning of Chapter 12 of An Introduction to the Philosophy of Science calls "a magical view of language":
Many people hold a magical view of language, the view that there is a mysterious natural connection of some sort between certain words (only, of course, the words with which they are familiar!) and their meanings. The truth is that it is only by historical accident, in the evolution of our culture, that the word 'blue' has come to mean a certain color. (116)
As between 'stuffing' and 'dressing' there is nothing to choose; neither captures the nature of their common referent. The incantation of neither has the power to conjure up the edible reality. Both words stand in a merely conventional relation to their common referent.
The confusion of words and things is a mistake to avoid. A cognate mistake is the notion that there are such things as true definitions. Definitions merely register our free decisions as to how words will be used. Questions of true and false arise only after we have fixed our terms.
So is religious language based on elementary confusion? "Our Father Who art in heaven, hallowed be thy Name." "Thou shalt not take the name of the Lord thy God in vain." "And the Word became flesh and dwelt among us." Or is the Carnap point superficial like so much in Carnap?
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