Parrish 1

Mary Parrish
Professor Rebecca Morean
English 100.20
5 February 2015
From Faith, to Words, to Faith in Words
In the South, where simplicity, fundamentalism, and improper grammar flourish,
Father Von Unruh saved my tragically grammar deficient soul with every sermon he
gave. With his vanishing gray hair and his legs stretching longer every day to make more
room in his body for all of the words he needed to learn and his calm, sweet eyes hiding
behind his glasses, and his smile that reached to either side of his face whenever he came
across someone who seemed even slightly interested in his work, he was consummate.
The word enlightenment was a mystery until Father Von taught me what it
meant and let me in on his quest to find it. Growing up, I was given spelling words in
school, which caused me to focus considerably more on correctly placing letters in the
correct order, rather than understanding the meanings of the letters. This was the same
grade school that taught me what all of my opinions were on nearly every aspect of
society. It was not until high school, when Father Von transferred to my parish, when he
unveiled my brain.
Always prepared, he wrote out his sermons and allowed my congregation to read
along as he spoke, if they so well pleased. One morning, straining to keep my head
propped up and attentive, I heard a word I had never heard before: defenestrate. Hoping
it could be used as the bases to a new action packed short story I had in my head,
immediately, I took the written sermon, found the word, and circled it. When I got home,

Parrish 2
I looked up what the word meantto throw someone out of a window. I am unsure how I
made it so far in life without having such a specifically accurate word to describe such an
action. No longer do I have to describe an incident creating a time consuming back-story;
I could simply use the singular word to reinvent the situation for a future character. I did
this every week finding more words like consummate, incontrovertibly, and
euphoric. Because I love writing stories and creating characters, I used this list as a
brainstorming method in doing so. Unknowingly, however, the list became so much more
than just words to inspire a story; they were helping me develop other skills. They were
helping me to develop reason and logic.
I spent nearly every Sunday asking him what certain religious traditions actually
meant and why the Church cared so much about them. I learned things in my theology
classes during the week and brought them up during Sunday school just to hear his
response.
Whether he agreed or disagreed, I did not mind; I was able to have a discussion
about my faith rather than just being told what my faith was. He let me do this. He let me
disagree with him if it meant I was comfortable enough in the understanding of these
religious topics to talk about it with people. If I were attempting to understand my faith,
this meant I was reflecting on it. Not once through grade school, with parents and
teachers constantly shoving right and wrong down my throat, did I ever legitimately think
about my religion. Yes, I thought about God and the Bible and Bible class, but never did I
think about what faith was and if it ever actually meant anything to me. Finding words
that allowed me to think about it concretely, the idea surfaced quite often. I found myself
roaming the hallways at school thinking about God and the logic he encompasses, while

Parrish 3
my peers thought about lunch. While others happily walked from class to class, I
euphorically skipped with the confidence that I was allowed to think about whatever I
wanted and had the capacity to do so.
Through Father Vons diction, I was able to articulate my real opinions, my
opinions outside of my parents and school system. I was able to argue with people; more
importantly, I was able to argue with him. I learned more about my faith from him using
knowledge and reason to come to conclusions rather than just being smothered with the
same beliefs and traditions that had been practiced for hundreds of years. If language and
dialogue and connotations and word structure were all allowed to change, then so can
faith and ethics and right actions and wrong actions. I was set free. I could finally be my
own person, no longer in the shackles provided for me by my surrounding authoritys
opinions.
Not until he moved to my parish did I understand how profoundly important
words are. I was literate and had the ability to write accurately, but he polished my
vocabulary. He made it possible for me to understand what I wanted to say. Not only did
he affect my words, he affected my faith. I did not automatically agree with everything he
taught in the sermons because he could use fancy and impressive words, but I was able to
think about what he was saying. I was able to think about what I thought was wrong or
right on the topic with these words. I was able to figure out what I wanted to believe with
these words. These words are what have allowed me to be who I am today, and allowed
my to believe in my own faith. The faith untouched by simple, vague vocabulary.