The Comeback of Amongst?

Too much Rite I, perhaps, along with my late-in-life discovery of the King James Version, has made me a writer who finds it natural to speak of things being amongst other things. I’ve had copy editors who change it, without asking, to “among”; they will say it’s the publisher’s house style. But to me, the words are different. They feel different: “among” seems more ordinary or accidental. “Among the many things on her dresser was a five-dollar bill.” But “amongst” suggests a real connection: “When he was amongst his brothers, he always felt inferior.”

I read a column by Bryan Garner, author of Garner’s Modern English Usage, a book now in its fifth edition. Garner was reviewing a book by Anne Curzan, the title of which is Says Who? A Kinder, Funner Usage Guide for Everyone Who Cares about Words. The “funner” puts me off, as I hope it puts off you, dear reader. Garner went on to list ten points on which Curzan disagrees with him, one of them being “fun” and “funner.” My sympathies were pro-Garner. But then things got interesting.

    Garner: “I call amongst a pretentious archaism in American English—primarily a Briticism.”

    Curzan: To the contrary, you should “keep your eye on this resurrected word” because “it may have reenergized legs.”
 
Hey! Once again I find I just might be on the cutting edge. A resurrected word! With legs! Take that, you stodgy modern style guides!
 
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The word “legs” also caught my ear. It was at a clergy lunch that the late rector emeritus of Saint Thomas Fifth Avenue picked up his wine glass, containing a fine red from France, slowly turned it around at an angle, and pronounced it a good wine. “It has legs,” he said.
    
I never knew wine might have legs. Now I read that a word (a "resurrected word"!) can have legs. And it is a word I like to use. What will next have legs?
 
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Meanwhile we can return to Galilee. He lived amongst us, a teacher walking from place to place as he drew his disciples close, tying them to one another with bonds eternal. That, to be sure, was the event of all events to have legs.
 
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Out & About: I am to preach at St. Matthew’s Cathedral, Dallas, on Sunday, Sept. 29. The Eucharists are at 9 and 11:15 a.m.
    
The next Sunday, I will be teaching a class at St. Martin’s Church in Houston, at 10:15 a.m. My topic is “Everything Happens for a Reason”—something Jesus never said! (Nor do I.) If you live in Houston, it would be great to see you.
    
Book seminar October 13: At St. Matthew’s in Dallas, we’ll discuss Russell Kirk’s Gothic novel, Old House of Fear. The title refers to a castle on a purportedly haunted Scottish island. Anyone who reads the book is welcome to join; we meet from 5 to 6:30 p.m.
    
I will teach Christian Ethics at the Stanton Institute, a five-session course meeting on one Saturday each month from January through May, starting Jan. 18, from 1 to 4 p.m. at St. Matthew’s, Dallas. I teach the course around basic human questions, such as “What’s Christian about Christian ethics?” (Would you take a course in “Christian Physics”? What’s the difference?) For more info or to register contact Erica Lasenyik:

Dust Storms May Exist

    There are several highway signs of this sort: “X MAY Y.” Here in Texas I’ve seen “BRIDGE MAY ICE.” In New Mexico, down on I-10 there are warning signs: “DUST STORMS MAY EXIST.” One also sees signs warning “GUSTY WINDS MAY EXIST” or even, to return to the bridge, “ICE MAY EXIST.”

    Online commentators on these signs—an already too-large group that yours truly is joining, briefly—tend to take them as statements of fact. That is to say, they take “may” as meaning the same thing as “might.” By these signs, motorists are warned that, in the area into which they are driving at 80+ miles per hour, there might be dust storms or gusty winds or something else that would love to remove their vehicle from the asphalt. Signs prefer short words. “May” is shorter than “might” and, indeed, one of its meanings is to indicate possibility, something that might be. 

    But that’s not how I learned it in the second grade.

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    Our teacher had a paper apple tree on the wall, with paper apples labeled with words like “can” and “may.” If one of us asked, “Can I go to the bathroom?” the “can” apple would fall out of the tree to the ground. If someone then said, “May I go to the bathroom?” the apple would rise again to the tree.

    Lesson: “May” has to do with permission; “can” has to do with capacity. If I know how to play the piano, then I can do it. But if I’m visiting you, it’s another question whether I may play your piano.

    Well, the second grade is way back in my rearview mirror, but this lesson has stuck. When I see “may” I think permission is what is at stake. Quickly, I want to know who is giving permission for these dust storms to exist! Or more precisely, Why has our government taken it upon itself to tell nature what it may do?

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    All Christians should know that it is a perennial temptation of government to claim omnipotence. Yet in truth, governors, legislators, judges—all of them serve under God’s providence. They have limited functions. And in the end, they will cast their “crowns” at God’s feet. 

    We need to remember this, for many important reasons. I know the people who run the highway department do not really think they have power to allow natural phenomena. They do not grant permission for ice to form, and they do not allow dust storms to occur. Nonetheless, it is good for all of us to remember: Only God gives existence to anything. Everything that exists is so by his doing.

    Just as he told Job from the whirlwind, so he tells you: Gusty winds have his permission to exist. God permits things to exist that have the capacity to kill you.

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    Out & About: Important note about the upcoming “Good Books & Good Talk” seminar on Aldous Huxley’s Brave New World: We are meeting at St. Matthew’s Cathedral but in a new room in Garrett Hall, a different building than before, on Sunday, September 22, from 5 p.m. to 6:30. (Note: that same evening there is a service at 5 p.m. in the Cathedral itself.) For the seminar, come to the Garrett Hall door (opposite the cathedral, across the green close): on the digital call pad, select 2nd Floor St. Matthew’s, then press “Reception to call.” You will be buzzed in. Come up to the 2nd floor; we will meet in room 201.

    Our next seminar will be three weeks later, October 13, on Russell Kirk’s Old House of Fear.

    I am preaching the next two Sundays: on September 22 at St. John’s in Corsicana, Tex., at 9:30, and on September 29 at St. Matthew’s in Dallas at 9 and 11:15 a.m.


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The Rev. Canon Victor Lee Austin. Ph.D., is the Theologian-in-Residence for the diocese and is the author of several books including, "Friendship: The Heart of Being Human" and "A Post-Covid Catechesis.: