"For every idle word that men shall speak, they shall give
account thereof in the day of judgment."
"A very solemn sermon," said Miss B., shaking her head impressively,
as she sat down to table on Sunday noon; then giving a deep sigh,
she added, "I am afraid that if an account is to be rendered for all
our idle words, some people will have a great deal to answer for."
"Why, Cousin Anna," replied a sprightly young lady opposite, "what
do you mean by _idle words_?"
"All words that have not a strictly useful tendency, Helen," replied
Miss B.
"I don't know what is to become of me, then," answered Helen, "for I
never can think of anything useful to say. I sit and try sometimes,
but it always stops my talking. I don't think anything in the world
is so doleful as a set of persons sitting round, all trying to say
something useful, like a parcel of old clocks ticking at each other.
I think one might as well take the vow of entire silence, like the
monks of La Trappe."
"It is probable," said Miss B., "that a greater part of our ordinary
conversation had better be dispensed with. 'In the multitude of
words there wanteth not sin.' For my own part, my conscience often
reproaches me with the sins of my tongue."
"I'm sure you don't sin much that way, I must say," said Helen;
"but, cousin, I really think it is a freezing business sitting still
and reflecting all the time when friends are together; and, after
all, I can't bring myself to feel as if it were wrong to talk and
chatter away a good part of the time, just for the sake of talking.
For instance, if a friend comes in of a morning to make a call, I
talk about the weather, my roses, my canary-birds, or anything that
comes uppermost."
"And about lace, and bonnet patterns, and the last fashions," added
Miss B. sarcastically.
"Well, supposing we do; where's the harm?"
"Where's the good?" said Miss B.
"The good! why, it passes time agreeably, and makes us feel kindly
towards each other."
"I think, Helen," said Miss B., "if you had a higher view of
Christian responsibility, you would not be satisfied with merely
passing time agreeably, or exciting agreeable feelings in others.
Does not the very text we are speaking of show that we have an
account to give in the day of judgment for all this trifling,
useless conversation?"
"I don't know what that text does mean," replied Helen, looking
seriously; "but if it means as you say, I think it is a very hard,
strait rule."
"Well," replied Miss B., "is not duty always hard and strait?
'Strait is the gate, and narrow is the way,' you know."
Helen sighed.
"What do you think of this, Uncle C.?" she said, after some pause.
The uncle of the two young ladies had been listening thus far in
silence.
"I think," he replied, "that before people begin to discuss, they
should be quite sure as to what they are talking about, and I am
not exactly clear in this case. You say, Anna," said he, turning to
Miss B., "that all conversation is idle which has not a directly
useful tendency. Now, what do you mean by that? Are we never to say
anything that has not for its direct and specific object the benefit
of others or of ourselves?"
"Yes," replied Miss B., "I suppose not."
"Well, then, when I say, 'Good-morning, sir; 'tis a pleasant day,' I
have no such object. Are these, then, idle words?"
"Why, no, not exactly," replied Miss B.; "in some cases it is
necessary to say something, so as not to appear rude."
"Very well," replied her uncle. "You admit, then, that some things,
which are not instructive in themselves considered, are to be said
to keep up the intercourse of society?"
"Certainly; some things," said Miss B.
"Well, now, in the case mentioned by Helen, when two or three people
with whom you are in different degrees of intimacy call upon you, I
think she is perfectly right, as she said, in talking of roses, and
canary-birds, and even of bonnet patterns, and lace, or anything
of the kind, for the sake of making conversation. It amounts to
the same thing as 'good-morning,' and 'good-evening,' and the
other courtesies of society. This sort of small talk has nothing
instructive in it, and yet it may be useful in its place. It makes
people comfortable and easy, promotes kind and social feelings; and
making people comfortable by any innocent means is certainly not a
thing to be despised."
"But is there not great danger of becoming light and trifling if one
allows this?" said Miss B. doubtfully.
"To be sure; there is always danger of running every innocent thing
to excess. One might eat to excess, or drink to excess; yet eating
and drinking are both useful in their way. Now, our lively young
friend Helen, here, might perhaps be in some temptation of this
sort; but as for you, Anna, I think you in more danger of another
extreme."
"And what is that?"
"Of overstraining your mind by endeavoring to keep up a constant,
fixed state of seriousness and solemnity, and not allowing yourself
the relaxation necessary to preserve its healthy tone. In order to
be healthy, every mind must have variety and amusement; and if you
would sit down at least one hour a day, and join your friends in
some amusing conversation, and indulge in a good laugh, I think,
my dear, that you would not only be a happier person, but a better
Christian."
"My dear uncle," said Miss B., "this is the very thing that I have
been most on my guard against; I can never tell stories, or laugh
and joke, without feeling condemned for it afterwards."
"But, my dear, you must do the thing in the testimony of a good
conscience before you can do it to any purpose. You must make up
your mind that cheerful and entertaining conversation--conversation
whose first object is to amuse--is useful conversation in its place,
and then your conscience will not be injured by joining in it."
"But what good does it do, uncle?"
"Do you not often complain of coldness and deadness in your
religious feelings? of lifelessness and want of interest?"
"Yes, uncle."
"Well, this coldness and lifelessness is the result of forcing your
mind to one set of thoughts and feelings. You become worn out--your
feelings exhausted--deadness and depression ensue. Now, turn your
mind off from these subjects--divert it by a cheerful and animated
conversation, and you will find, after a while, that it will return
to them with new life and energy."
"But are not foolish talking and jesting expressly forbidden?"
"That text, if you will look at the connections, does not forbid
jesting in the abstract; but jesting on immodest subjects--which
are often designated in the New Testament by the phraseology there
employed. I should give the sense of it--neither filthiness, nor
foolish talking, nor indelicate jests. The kind of sprightly and
amusing conversation to which I referred, I should not denominate
foolish, by any means, at proper times and places."
"Yet people often speak of gayety as inconsistent in
Christians--even worldly people," said Miss B.
"Yes, because, in the first place, they often have wrong ideas as to
what Christianity requires in this respect, and suppose Christians
to be violating their own principles in indulging in it. In the
second place, there are some, especially among young people, who
never talk in any other way--with whom this kind of conversation
is not an amusement, but a habit--giving the impression that they
never think seriously at all. But I think, that if persons are
really possessed by the tender, affectionate, benevolent spirit
of Christianity--if they regulate their temper and their tongue
by it, and in all their actions show an evident effort to conform
to its precepts; they will not do harm by occasionally indulging
in sprightly and amusing conversation--they will not make the
impression that they are not sincerely Christians."
"Besides," said Helen, "are not people sometimes repelled from
religion by a want of cheerfulness in its professors?"
"Certainly," replied her uncle, "and the difference is just this:
if persons are habitually trifling and thoughtless, it is thought
that they have _no_ religion; if they are ascetic and gloomy it
is attributed to their religion; and you know what Miss E. Smith
says--that 'to be good and disagreeable is high treason against
virtue.' The more sincerely and earnestly religious a person is, the
more important it is that he should be agreeable."
"But, uncle," said Helen, "what does that text mean that we began
with? What are idle words?"
"My dear, if you will turn to the place where the passage is
(Matt. xii.) and read the whole page, you will see the meaning of
it. Christ was not reproving anybody for trifling conversation at
the time; but for a very serious slander. The Pharisees, in their
bitterness, accused him of being in league with evil spirits. It
seems, by what follows, that this was a charge which involved
an unpardonable sin. They were not, indeed, conscious of its
full guilt,--they said it merely from the impulse of excited and
envious feeling,--but he warns them that in the day of judgment God
will hold them accountable for the full consequences of all such
language, however little they may have thought of it at the time of
uttering it. The sense of the passage I take to be, 'God will hold
you responsible in the day of judgment for the consequences of all
you have said in your most idle and thoughtless moments.'"
"For example," said Helen, "if one makes unguarded and unfounded
assertions about the Bible, which excite doubt and prejudice."
"There are many instances," said her uncle, "that are quite in
point. Suppose in conversation, either under the influence of envy
or ill will, or merely from love of talking, you make remarks and
statements about another person which may be true or may not,--you
do not stop to inquire,--your unguarded words set reports in
motion, and unhappiness, and hard feeling, and loss of character
are the result. You spoke idly, it is true, but nevertheless you
are held responsible by God for all the consequences of your words.
So professors of religion often make unguarded remarks about each
other, which lead observers to doubt the truth of all religion;
and they are responsible for every such doubt they excite. Parents
and guardians often allow themselves to speak of the faults and
weaknesses of their ministers in the presence of children and
younger people--they do it thoughtlessly--but in so doing they
destroy an influence which might otherwise have saved the souls of
their children; they are responsible for it. People of cultivated
minds and fastidious taste often allow themselves to come home from
church, and criticise a sermon, and unfold all its weak points in
the presence of others on whom it may have made a very serious
impression. While the critic is holding up the bad arrangement, and
setting in a ludicrous point of view the lame figures, perhaps the
servant behind his chair, who was almost persuaded to be a Christian
by that very discourse, gives up his purposes, in losing his respect
for the sermon; this was thoughtless--but the evil is done, and the
man who did it is responsible for it."
"I think," said Helen, "that a great deal of evil is done to
children in this way, by our not thinking of what we are saying."
"It seems to me," said Miss B., "that this view of the subject will
reduce us to silence almost as much as the other. How is one ever to
estimate the consequences of their words?--people are affected in so
many different ways by the same thing."
"I suppose," said her uncle, "we are only responsible for such
results as by carefulness and reflection we might have foreseen.
It is not for ill-judged words, but for idle words, that we are
to be judged--words uttered without any consideration at all, and
producing bad results. If a person really anxious to do right
misjudges as to the probable effect of what he is about to say on
others, it is quite another thing."
"But, uncle, will not such carefulness destroy all freedom in
conversation?" said Helen.
"If you are talking with a beloved friend, Helen, do you not use an
instinctive care to avoid all that might pain that friend?"
"Certainly."
"And do you find this effort a restraint on your enjoyment?"
"Certainly not."
"And you, from your own feelings, avoid what is indelicate and
impure in conversation, and yet feel it no restraint?"
"Certainly."
"Well, I suppose the object of Christian effort should be so to
realize the character of our Saviour, and conform our tastes and
sympathies to his, that we shall instinctively avoid all in our
conversation that would be displeasing to him. A person habitually
indulging jealous, angry, or revengeful feeling, a person habitually
worldly in his spirit, a person allowing himself in skeptical and
unsettled habits of thought, _cannot_ talk without doing harm. This
is our Saviour's account of the matter in the verses immediately
before the passage we were speaking of--'How _can_ ye, being
evil, speak good things? for out of the abundance of the heart
the mouth speaketh. A good man out of the good treasure of his
heart bringeth forth good things, and an evil man out of the evil
treasure of his heart bringeth forth evil things.' The highest flow
of animal spirits would never hurry a pure-minded person to say
anything indelicate or gross; and in the same manner, if a person
is habitually Christian in all his habits of thought and feeling,
he will be able without irksome watchfulness to avoid what may be
injurious even in the most unrestrained conversation."