The Daily Word is PHLYAROLOGIST
This noun entered the English language in 1867 and expired the same year. Pity. It is such an elegant synonym for uninformed, unaware, insensitive, egotistical bobbleheads. It means “A person who speaks nonsense.”
You have stumbled upon the blog of a phlyarologist who aspires to a daunting vocabulary as one of her tools to bring you along on her journey. I want you to laugh, to cry, to get mad, to stop female genital mutilation, female infanticide, and bride burnings. I want you to rebuild Haiti and drop kick the Middle East all the way to my least favorite planet, Uranus. (After we bring home our troops and the Abu Dhabi airport)
Have I ever asked what YOU want? Phlyarologists are so wrapped up in their own agendas; they don’t ask such tiresome questions. Now that I have wrestled with the word, I hope I can make some changes around this blog. But I need to know what you care about, what atrocities you want stopped. What joys, blessings, and victories you want to share and celebrate. I want this to be your forum, too.
Yesterday, I joined seven phlyarologists in the office for morning devotions. We sang “Praise His Holy Name” in our usual babble of Maharati, British English, and American English and read the parable of the Good Samaritan. Two blocks away, a young woman who gave birth, alone, under a peepal tree three days ago was finally noticed by the police and taken to a hospital. Her husband had kicked her out; her natal family had disowned her. She was badly burned. Another “the stove exploded” bride burning. The baby died of sepsis. She, having no money, was discharged to the streets.
The phlyarologists concluded devotions with “Bind us Together.”
Prayer is a powerful force; prayer changes things. But what slaps the smug off my face is the Biblical truth: faith without works is as dead as an infant born alone under a peepal tree.