“They draw near with their mouths, and honor Me with their lips, but they remove their hearts far from Me, and their fear for me is commandment of rulers” (Isaiah 29:13; cf. Matthew 15:8). This well-known prophetic condemnation of hypocrisy implies a neat theory of language.

First, it indicates that at least the intended purpose of speech, of the words of the mouth, is access. We speak in order to “draw near” to our hearers. The goal is personal access and personal presence. It is presence from a distance, presence across the space that separate persons, presence in the particular case across the space that separates heaven and earth. Speech has a limited range of access. It can draw near only to those who are within the range of hearing. Audio reproduction extends the range of speech, so media allows people to “draw near” with the mouth at a much greater distance, but the aim is still access to personal presence. Before the development of audio reproduction, we of course had books. Though the phenomenology of the printed word and reading is different, we can perhaps extend the point: Writing too is a bid for proximity, for intimacy, for access.

Second, the wording of Isaiah 28:13 hints at specifically liturgical access. “Draw near” ( nagash ) has fairly general connotations, but is used with some frequency for liturgical access to Yahweh (Exodus 30:20; Leviticus 2:8; 8:14; 21:21, 23). The near synonym qarab (draw near, bring near) is one of the key terms of Levitical theology. In Isaiah 28, the “drawing near” through words is exp,icitly liturgical; the people of Zion seek access to Yahweh in prayer. Again, though, perhaps we can broaden the point: All language use is (at least) analogous to liturgical language. Liturgical language is the paradigm case of language use, the form of language use that sets the pattern for all others. Perhaps we can put the point more strongly and suggest that all language use is liturgical in the strict sense. Even the words that seek to draw near to another human being (or our pet cat) are words that either move us closer to or more distant from God. We may perhaps speak of the liturgical consummation of language.

And speaking of “consummation,” we can also discern an erotic dimension to language use in Isaiah 28. nagash evokes a liturgical setting, but it also (like qarab ) evokes a sexual setting (e.g., Exodus 19:15). The analogy between liturgical and sexual approach is implicit in Leviticus, and is also the basis for the rich liturgical typology of the Song of Songs and for most of the tradition of commentary on the Song of Songs. We might then say that language is not only inherently liturgical but inherently erotic. All speech intends to draw near in profound intimacy, since all speech intends to enter the hearer. All speech aims to seduce.

Finally, we shouldn’t neglect the second half of Isaiah’s (and Jesus’) statement. “This people” (a contemptuous dismissal, like Clinton’s “that woman”) intends to draw near, uses the tool of access - language - but in fact does not get near, and in fact does not want to draw near. Mouth and heart have become disconnected, so the stated aim of prayer is undermined by hard and distant hearts. It is here that we must locate much of the dislocation, slippage, and frailty of language that Derrida and other postmoderns have done so much to highlight. Some of what they analyze is inherent in language use in a temporal, pre-eschatological world; but much of it is the product of a breach between mouth and heart, a breach that, given our sinfulness, does indeed mar virtually every speech act. All speech aims to seduce, but the heart seduces to dominate. And speech is healed only with a new heart of flesh.