Tautology
It is what it is. Wherever you go, there you are. The evening sunset was beautiful. There is a fancy word, originating in Greek, for these kinds of redundant statements: tautology. This is formed from two shorter Greek words for “the same” and “saying” or “word.” Generally speaking, unless you are making a joke or emphasizing a point, redundancy is considered poor form in writing and rhetoric. However, in the world of logic, tautologies have an interesting function. They are a special kind of statement that establishes such an internal logic that it becomes necessarily true. There is a meme that floats around the internet from time to time confronting us with the reality that everything in the world is either a potato or not a potato. As much as some annoying people will argue that a french fry is somehow between the two, that can be easily dismissed. A french fry is a potato that has been cut and cooked in a special way. It’s still a potato. So is a chip. It could be argued (incorrectly, by the way) that a picture or sculpture of a potato is, in fact, a potato. But even if someone did try to claim that a potato photo is a potato (it isn’t), that wouldn’t refute the tautology. If it is a potato, then it is a potato. If it isn’t, then it’s not. It’s that simple.
As much as we may want to pretend to be extra smart and argue with them, tautologies are ultimately unassailable. You can’t disprove it with logic, because it’s logic is perfectly internally consistent. Those of us who grow weary with too much debate (which doesn’t include me, much to the chagrin of most of my friends) may take refuge in the shelter of tautology. There are some things that we can know for certain. In a world where uncertainty, falsehood, and misleading ideas are abundant, there is a simple comfort in being able to know some things for sure, even if they are small and relatively useless things. It doesn’t help us pay the bills to ponder the incontrovertible fact that a ball is either green or not green.
Sometimes, we want to feel the same reliability elsewhere. Sometimes, we want to be as dependable as a tautology. Though it isn’t a common expression anymore, most of us are probably familiar with the phrase, “My word is my bond.” The meaning there is that when I say I will do something, I will most certainly do it. You can count on me to keep my promises. Saying is doing. It’s tautological.
Unfortunately, I doubt anyone can truly boast of this. Everyone fails from time to time. Some people get around this by not making promises they can’t keep, but if you make yourself reliable by avoiding any kind of work, that isn’t really helpful. You’re just dependably useless. Most of us probably bear regrets, even if forgotten, of times when we have been unreliable, when our word hasn’t been our bond. We flaked on a friend’s party. We bailed when a friend asked for our help moving something heavy. We slept in and failed to get to work on time. We weren’t there for a friend who needed us because we were secretly upset with them for some small slight. Whatever the case, we have said things and failed to bring them to fruition. We have made plans and had goals. We have made promises to ourselves and failed. When we speak, the most we are doing is setting a goal. Our declarations of intent don’t make things happen. To speak, for us, doesn’t bind us to actually doing it.
In Exodus 19:8, the people of Israel declare “Everything that the LORD has spoken we will do.” This is a dramatic and powerful statement. They have just recently fled Egypt, seeing God’s power in the plagues and the parting of the sea. Now, encamped before the mountain of God, they promise to do God’s will. Things are looking very hopeful, but we know how this story goes. It doesn’t take long for the Israelites to break their promise. They start worshiping an idol, while Moses is receiving the Law from God. They couldn’t be relied upon to remain faithful for a couple months, let alone the entire time that God would claim them as God’s people.
It isn’t that the people are completely faithless. They go back and forth. They are fickle, but not entirely oppositional to God. Much like us today, consistently keeping their word was impossible. Things came up, challenges arose, fatigue set in, and I’m sure they had an array of other excuses. We can sympathize, of course. We are no better than the ancient Israelites. As much as we would like to be perfectly true to our word, we never have been, and we never will be. Our word is simply human, and humans are marred by sin.
Fortunately, our word is not what we rely upon. Even though we may fail repeatedly, God’s Word is eternally reliable. As seen in Genesis 1, God’s Word shapes nature itself. When God says something will happen, Creation itself is built around the promise. God’s Word is the internal logic that weaves the fabric of reality. When God speaks, it is tautological. What God says is absolutely, reliably certain, because God’s Word is what makes certainty, reality itself, possible.
The Israelites made a mistake in their promise in Exodus 19:8. They were relying on their own fidelity to achieve the promise, but humans are fickle. That commitment was bound to fail. However, there is one thing they could have said that would have been certainly true. “Everything that the LORD has spoken, the LORD will do.” Of course, it’s tautological. Its redundancy makes it feel less important to us, but this isn’t the same as thinking about a green or not green ball. This reassures us of the certainty of God’s promises: God loves us, God forgives us, God claims us, and God is reshaping the world into the Kingdom of Heaven on earth. In the chaos of an uncertain world, spinning out of control, we can take refuge in the certainty that we receive from God. God’s promises are true, because God’s Word is Truth.
