Is Anna Hazare perhaps a covert Christian, as some uncovertly Hindu bloggers suggested in a website I consulted last week? They’d probably have felt their suspicions confirmed had they read one London newspaper describing his “crusade” against corruption. But they’d have been mistaken.
Born in a Christian country, English has naturally adapted some words from that religion for wider use. Crusade is a common metaphor for any campaign against evil. Likewise saint, as in he must be a saint to put up with that, though the word’s Latin original, sanctus, merely meant sacred.
Turn the other cheek; he can walk on water; dividing the sheep from the goats; that’s a cross he has to bear; my dad’ll crucify me if I’m late; resurrection: all these metaphors are drawn from the biblical account of Jesus Christ. Others reflect later Christian beliefs or habits: apocalypse; the gospel of socialism (or whatever); purgatory; a snowflake’s chance in hell; a broad church; speaking ex cathedra (from one’s chair, like the Pope announcing some new doctrine). And, of course, crusade.
I once was on the jury when an Iraqi hotel boy stood accused of some trivial theft. His barrister said to him: “Some of these documents call you Sayid Jaffrey and others Jaffrey Sayid. Is Jaffrey your Christian name?” “No sir,” he replied, “it is my first name.” His implied rebuke was right. But the barrister’s usage was wholly normal when I was young.
English has extended its welcome even, if rarely, to other religions: a bikers’ Mecca; karma and nirvana; juggernaut and even, I fear, holy cow, usually for something you mustn’t meddle with, though I’ve met it as an exclamation of surprise.
Historically, English exclamations often reflected religion. Most used the name of God, unspecified. Today’s Americans use Oh my God to register some disaster; English soldiers in the 1500s were so free with By God that they became bigods in French slang. But often Jesus specifically was invoked. Jesus Christ is common today to express alarm or surprise; in the past it produced various ways to avoid pronouncing the sacred name itself, such as jeepers creepers or jiminy cricket.
Such usages, of course, aren’t found only in English. We have goodbye — this is, God be with you; Spanish, French and Italian have adios, adieu and addio (which has joined modern Greek as antio). In Italian, cristiano was once a common way of addressing some other man, and today’s exclamations still make free with the Madonna.
Can one still use such language today? One American envoy invited an early UN meeting to show “a Christian spirit”, or some such words. Those days are clearly past, and by now it is unwise — though not unknown — to launch, say, a “crusade for democracy” against some Muslim regime. But a “crusade against corruption”?
Born before political correctness took wing, I’ll live with that, though I’d hardly offer it if The Telegraph lived in Saudi Arabia. And is it really offensive to all non-Western ears? If so, sorry, but those offended should look closer to home. Who said recently: “We have deliberated on many names for the state and finally decided to rechristen it as Paschimbanga”? And whose wording was reported all over India, unsubedited?
As any reader of this paper will know, a certain Partha Chatterjee. Who, I notice, hasn’t rechristened his surname into chaste Bengali. So is he too a Christian? As with Mr Hazare, I doubt it. Draw an absolute Lakshmanrekha, if you must, round a few English words, fair enough. Short of that, be aware that what’s acceptable in one society may not be so in another — or even intelligible. But do please know when to stop.
