It’s odd. The older I get, the more easily I can be distracted. I used to be able to concentrate on a textbook through the fragrance of a cooking dinner, the sound of a child practicing the piano, and the sight of a toddler diving into the sofa, all at the same time. Now there are times when I can’t even remember what I was looking for fifteen seconds ago.
I have even become self-distracting. I’ll be working on an important project. Then a foreign but interesting question enters my mind. Sometimes a Google® search follows. Half an hour later, I might remember what I was supposed to be doing.
It just happened to me a while ago. I was thinking about my weekly essay for In the Nick of Time when I heard somebody discussing collective nouns. Immediately my mind lurched into the new subject. I’ve always had an interest in collective nouns, so it wasn’t hard to divert my attention. Who can forget expressions like a murder of crows, an unkindness of ravens, or a shrewdness of apes? Did you know that women are known collectively as a gaggle unless they are married? Then they are called am impatience of wives.
Normally, when I think of a gaggle I think of geese. But geese form a gaggle only when they’re on the ground. When they’re in the water they’re a plump. And aloft, geese are collectively known as a skein or a wedge.
Other animal collectives include a sloth of bears, a clowder of cats, a convocation of eagles, and a pod of dolphins. Some animal collectives sound like somebody just made them up to be funny. Did you know that ferrets form a business? Hippopotami travel in bloats? What about a cackle of hyenas or a crash of rhinoceros?
Collective nouns for the professions can also get quirky. How else would harpers congregate than in a melody? A nucleus of physicists makes sense, as does a shudder of clowns. But who would ever anticipate a tabernacle of bakers or a superfluity of nuns? On the other hand, a lechery of priests makes a certain cynical point. And how else would dermatologists gather if not in a rash?
New collective nouns are still being coined. Alistair Reid came up with a grumbling of buses in 1958. People speak of a parliament of owls, but I am told that C. S. Lewis coined that collective. He probably adapted it from Chaucer’s poem on the “Parlement of Foules.”
If new collective nouns are welcome, why not add a few more? I’d like to suggest a ponder of philosophers. Perhaps a hedge of politicians. Maybe a choke of golfers. And certainly, a deceit of journalists.
Then again, we have too few collective nouns specific to the theological world. Granted, the Te Deum hints at a few possibilities with its references to an army of martyrs, a communion of saints, a company of apostles, and a fellowship of prophets. And the Catholic Church does have a college of cardinals. But somehow those seem more like ordinary, common nouns than genuine collective nouns.
We need collective nouns for people in or preparing for various ministry positions. We should designate multiple seminary students as a babble, especially between classes. What about an exposition of pastors? In more revivalistic circles, perhaps a pound of preachers? A squall of evangelists? A nag of nouthetic counselors? A stoppage of deacons? A scare of prophecy experts? A skew of discernment bloggers?
Denominations need their own collective nouns. Maybe a plunge of Baptists. A frump of Methodists. A mutter of Episcopalians. A drone of Lutherans. A complexity of Presbyterians (also known in Dutch Reformed circles as a convolution). And of course, a gibber of Charismatics.
Now that we’re on the subject, the Charismatic movement offers a host of possibilities. A whoop of Pentecostals? A halt of faith healers? A slam of Spirit-slayers? A hoodwink of new apostles?
Various theological positions could be designated by suitable collective nouns. Maybe a frown of fundamentalists? A rapture of dispensationalists? A fulfillment of preterists? A realization of amillennialists? It would be difficult to find better collectives than a smug of Calvinists or its opposite number, a shrill of Arminians.
Now, having enjoyed a moment of distraction, I should probably go finish some work. But what was I doing again?
Corrigenda
A few weeks ago, I wrote about an outsider’s perspective on the biblical counseling movement. One of the responses was a very kind note from Donn Arms of the Institute for Nouthetic Studies, who pointed out a couple of confusions. I’m happy to post his corrections here. First, he said, “I believe you have misunderstood what the Association of Certified Biblical Counselors (ACBC) is. ACBC is the same organization as the former National Association of Nouthetic Counselors (NANC). It is just a new name. I believe you have ACBC confused with the Biblical Counseling Coalition (BCC).”
And then, “Secondly, you have our organization misaligned. The Institute for Nouthetic Studies is part of Mid-America Baptist Theological Seminary, which is located in a suburb of Memphis. You mistakenly identified us with Midwestern Baptist Seminary, which is in Kansas City. Midwestern, as you know, is a Southern Baptist seminary. Mid-America is not a Southern Baptist seminary, even though our largest clientele is Southern Baptists. Both Midwestern and Mid-America have solid biblical counseling programs.”
I am grateful to Donn for these clarifications and happy to make the corrections.
This essay is by Kevin T. Bauder, Research Professor of Historical and Systematic Theology at Central Baptist Theological Seminary. Not every one of the professors, students, or alumni of Central Seminary necessarily agrees with every opinion that it expresses.
Immortal Love, Within Whose Righteous Will
Stopford A. Brooke (1832–1916)
Immortal Love, within whose righteous will
Is always peace,
O pity me, storm-tossed on waves of ill;
Let passion cease;
Come down in power within my heart to reign,
For I am weak, and struggle has been vain.
The days are gone when far and wide my will
Drove me astray;
And now I fain would climb the arduous hill,
That narrow way
Which leads through mist and rocks to Thine abode;
Toiling for man, and Thee, Almighty God.
Whate’er of pain Thy loving hand allot,
I gladly bear;
Only, O Lord, let peace be not forgot,
Nor yet Thy care,
Freedom from storms and wild desires within,
Peace from the fierce oppression of my sin.
So may I, far away, when evening falls
On life and love,
Arrive at last the holy, happy halls,
With Thee above—
Wounded yet healed, sin-laden yet forgiven,
And sure Thy goodness is my only heaven.
