sidvicius wrote:Hardly a complete answer, but would it be reasonable to suggest that Latin is useful because it has stopped evolving in the way that other languages do. Thus the meanings of Latin words have much more strict interpretation. If you say something in Latin, it's meanings are much more specific than if you say something in other languages, especially modern English, which can be easily misinterpreted. Latin is much more rigorous in this respect, right?
No, this is bogus, I think. Latin hasn't stopped evolving: it's still spoken all over Europe and it's called Italian, French, Spanish, Romanian, Catalan and the like. These, and the Latin they 'evolved' from are normal languages. So there's nothing structural or technical about Latin that makes it different from other languages. Using Latin isn't using a different kind of language, it's using language in a different way - pretending you can freeze the course of historical development and that this somehow confers some magical precision on the meanings of the words. You could of course do the same thing with English - pick a historical variety, say the language of the late 16th century, and claim that this is somehow more precise and 'rigorous' than later (or for that matter earlier) variants.
In a real 'evolving' language words have a meaning which is guaranteed by the consensus of the living communities which use them. Using a fixed historical variant of a language takes away this organic underpinning of the meaning of the words, and allows you instead to invest words with your own meanings. There's no community of native speakers to argue with you, so the words can mean whatever you want them to. This, I think, is the appeal of Latin for those who see it as a more effective vehicle than a living language for articulating truths, if they believe that truth is something received passively rather than experienced and lived. In this view truth can be pinned down, if you capture it in language that doesn't change. But this is illusory: no form of words captures the truths of our faith in a way that articulates their full meaning.
Humpty Dumpty attempts the same control over the meaning of words in Through the Looking Glass:
Lewis Carroll wrote:There's glory for you!'
`I don't know what you mean by "glory",' Alice said.
Humpty Dumpty smiled contemptuously. `Of course you don't -- till I tell you. I meant "there's a nice knock-down argument for you!"'
`But "glory" doesn't mean "a nice knock-down argument",' Alice objected.
`When I use a word,' Humpty Dumpty said, in rather a scornful tone, `it means just what I choose it to mean -- neither more nor less.'
`The question is,' said Alice, `whether you can make words mean so many different things.'
`The question is,' said Humpty Dumpty, `which is to be master -- that's all.'
In the context of liturgical and theological language, the logical destination of preferring fossilised Latin words to living vernacular ones is a faith that cannot be expressed in ordinary language, only in technical terms. Can faith be living if it can only be expressed in immutable formulas in a foreign language?
M.