Fudge! I'd like to tell you that the aforementioned was the word that sprang to my mind [and to my mouth] when my laptop noisily fell to the pavement last weekend. Thoughts of spending several hundred dollars to replace the contraption also entered my mind. "Fudge" wasn't the word employed. It was a similar one-syllable utterance which my maternal grandmother would say merited having my mouth washed out with soap.

Why is it that with the thousands of words available to us for every conceivable situation that profanity is so often front and center when occasional adversity parks itself at our doorsteps?

There is a study of dubious provenance that suggests the use of something less than the King's English [e.g., swear words] is cathartic. When we swear, the study contends, we release tension that otherwise would be bottled up, morphing into stress -- and stress has been demonstrated to have deleterious effects on health. To that conclusion, let me share a non-profane yet provocative word used frequently by the British: rubbish.

Resorting to swear words -- and in the interests of full disclosure I say this as a person who unfortunately cannot claim to be a profanity teetotaler -- is an indicator. It indicates a lack of discipline and an absence of respect for those within earshot. When I hear profanity, even when it comes from own mouth, the truth of this cannot be denied.

In the 1960 film, "Inherit the Wind," the character of Henry Drummond is criticized by opposing counsel for his salty language. Drummond's answer is instructive: "I don't swear for the h*** of it. Besides, there are d*** few words that anybody understands!" While there may be more than a kernel of truth to Drummond's words, the cost of profanity is high.

Swearing can keep a person from getting a job or the next promotion. In some settings, it can even get you fired. Moreover, its effect, far from reducing tension, actually introduces it into a situation. People who hear it feel as if they've been slapped.

Now that the moral high ground has been firmly established on this issue, allow me to trip and fall down this carefully constructed mountain: Jesus once cursed a fig tree because it had no fruit. "…Jesus was hungry. Seeing in the distance a fig tree in leaf, he went to find out if it had any fruit. When he reached it, he found nothing but leaves, because it was not the season for figs. Then he said to the tree, 'May no one ever eat fruit from you again.' And his disciples heard him say it. In the morning, as they went along, they saw the fig tree withered from its roots. Peter remembered and said to Jesus, 'Rabbi, look! The fig tree you cursed has withered!'" (Mark 11:12-14, 20-21/NIV)

Jesus cleansed the temple of money-changers. Jesus used strong language to refer to King Herod ["sly fox"] and the Pharisees ["brood of vipers," "hypocrites"]. While none of the above sounds terribly objectionable to 21st century ears, in Jesus' day, the impact of the Master's provocative language had an immediate effect on his listeners.

I'm not sure why bad words spring to mind so quickly in times of frustration, setback and adversity; I just know that they do. Even Jesus apparently struggled with this -- as tame as his utterances may sound to us today. Be reminded, though, at his moment of greatest stress and pain, the true character of Jesus of Nazareth was revealed. Not profanity, but concern: "Father, forgive them, for they know not what they do."

The next time somebody lets loose verbally with less-than-acceptable variations of the word "fudge," try to cut the speaker a break. Even the second member of the Trinity, the One who sits at the right hand of God, had his moments.

Dr. Jeff Long teaches religious studies at Southeast Missouri State University and is administrator of the Foundation and assistant director of marketing at Chateau Girardeau Retirement Community.