Verbosity as a tragedy

If there's one thing I cannot stand about theologians, it's how removed they often are from ordinary life. On one level, it's easy to see that the priest, who is taken care of financially by the diocese, who is not married, who spends all day studying theology and whose every move is checked and instructed by the Church, cannot truly relate to most of his parish on many levels. But this is a topic for another day and, perhaps another rant (as a theology student, it can be extremely frustrating knowing that there's no money to be made in theology, so while I put myself in debt there's no financial pay-off while people in religious orders often get tuition and living expenses covered).
What I mean to say is that often the things we talk about in theology classrooms are so far removed from both comprehensibility and practicality that it seems like we're talking for our own benefits. I've had plenty of professors who seem to just enjoy the sound of their voices. So the problem is, I think, twofold. First, I think there's a problem of actually seeing how what we're studying has any real application. Luckily, since I study at the School of Theology and MINISTRY, there are a lot of ministers in my classes who make the professors aware of this problem. Additionally, in moral theology classes, at least, the very subject matter is of such a nature that it is supposed to be directly applicable. While there is a lot of talk of theory and formulae, moral theology is really where the aetherial musings of theologians materialize. Abortion, gay marriage, suicide, euthanasia, politics, work and wages, the plight of the poor--essentially the actual happenings in the lives of the faithful--are the real topics of moral debate.
The second problem, however, is much harder to address and fix. Theologians often like to use and incorporate language that is often confusing and usually unnecessary. Then, they often use the terms as if they're obvious when, in fact, they often mean different things depending on the person.
Take, for example, objectivity and subjectivity, two terms which, I believe, were started by the ever-so-confusing German philosopher Immanuel Kant. Objectivity, in one usage, means what is actually the case. Subjectivity, on the other hand, is "just your opinion." However, another usage of objectivity is looking towards the object, in other words "your perspective" and another usage of subjectivity is looking towards oneself, in other words "introspection." However, rather than using terms that are much easier to remember and follow, theologians often opt to interchange objectivity and subjectivity in such a way that one finds himself reading the same passage multiple times to tease out the meaning only to realize at the end that the solution was simple and just confusingly worded.
One of my roommates, in her zeal to show her enthusiasm for Systematic Theology purchased a fridge magnet with one of those quotes on it, the kind that normally are supposed to either inspire, comfort or amuse. On the magnet was a quote from Bernard Lonnergan, a Jesuit theologian, and the quote said, "Objectivity is the genuine fruit of subjectivity." While I would first rather have something like a quote about teamwork posted on my fridge rather than some out of context quote that means nothing to the average person, I decided to actually ponder the meaning. It seems to me that what is meant by this quote is that objectivity, according to my first definition, is the result of subjectivity, according to the second definition. In other words, seeing the way something is happens when we practice introspection. I don't know about the other readers out there, but I would rather read something like that as an inspirational quote over "Objectivity is the genuine fruit of subjectivity" any day.
but those borrowed philosophical terms aren't even the extent of it. Within theology, especially "systematics" (already NOT a self-apparent term) there are several smaller branches whose meanings are just as cryptic or non-apparent. There's ecclesiology, or the way the Church runs, soteriology, or how we're saved, christology, or Jesus and the Trinity, apologetics, or defending the faith, eschatology, or the end times, exegesis, or interpreting Scripture, and others. Most of the terms are fanciful but unnecessary. It's almost as if theologians feel the need to come up with specific terms for anything that they might find interesting just in order to give it more credibility as a discipline. The problem, of course, comes when one tries to actually relate it to anybody who hasn't studied theology for years.
Then, of course, the terms get put into buzz-word formulas. In business meetings one might hear, "We need to actuate more synergy by cooperative endeavors" but in theology it's even more confusing. One of my professors this week made a joke about St Paul and stated, "His christology is his soteriology." Would it not be much easier to simply say, "He believed our salvation was only through Christ?" Another professor of mine gave a homily today in which he stated we need to make the subjunctive into the indicative. Not only was that a reference that only a theologian would understand, but he would also have to be grammatically familiar with a language that has both subjunctive and indicative like Latin. It occurred to me that the priest, God bless him, was trying more to impress with his knowledge of grammar and the liturgy than he was trying to give an actual lesson.
Alasdair MacIntyre, no small name in his own right, once said in a class that one should not pretend to have mastered a concept until he can explain it to his grandmother who only has a third grade education. This seems quite applicable, as I can't even understand some of what these elite professors are talking about, even with a grad student's level of understanding.
The cultured despisers of the world often criticize theists for being ignorant and uneducated. Truth be told, most of the theologians I have met have been legions more intelligent than the likes of Christopher Hitchens, Charles Dawkins, Samuel Dennet et al. How, though, is anybody in the world supposed to know this when we theologians use overinflated language and tend to confuse rather than explain. I'm not saying the content needs to be watered down or lightened, heaven forbid, but rather that rather than using bombastic terms like "objectivity" or "soteriology," why is it that we cannot actually say what we mean?