A Jesuit priest is on record that the shortest and most earnest and heartfelt prayer he knew was, 'F*ckit'.
A phrase from 'Slaughterhouse five' is one of mine: 'So it goes'.
I do remember it took me a while to realise that the theology I had been taught was wrong (or wrongly applied), and that the appropriate faith response to someone who has experienced a tragedy is to be with them, sit with them, and see what they need - probably in silence.
TBH I think most people are pretty much tongue-tied in the face of death and don't know what to say.
When I was pregnant with my youngest, who we knew would be born with skeletal deformaties , one of my friends was going to take photos of him and pass them round the school-gate Mums, so that they could get over any initial shock before I returned to the school-gate. That way, I wouldn't have people avoiding me because they were worried about reacting badly.
In the event David was stillborn, but I still think that it was an incredibly sensible, practical and kind thing to offer to do. I'm sure the school-gate Mums would have appreciated it too.
A funeral verse I have used a number of times is Psalm 116.15, "Precious in the eyes of God is the death of his saint." RSV.
To think God will take pause at the death of someone he loves is comforting to many people.
A good example of bad theology in the face of tragedy. The psalmist is actually thanking God for sparing them from some tragic end. Basically saying that they were spared because the cost of their demise would be too costly (precious) for God to bear.
vs 8 For thou hast delivered my soul from death, mine eyes from tears, and my feet from falling. I will walk before the LORD in the land of the living.
I'm sure that's not how you intended it, but that reflects the sentiments of the psalmist. Hopefully those bereaved funeral attenders didn't go researching for context.
TBH I think most people are pretty much tongue-tied in the face of death and don't know what to say.
When I was pregnant with my youngest, who we knew would be born with skeletal deformaties , one of my friends was going to take photos of him and pass them round the school-gate Mums, so that they could get over any initial shock before I returned to the school-gate. That way, I wouldn't have people avoiding me because they were worried about reacting badly.
In the event David was stillborn, but I still think that it was an incredibly sensible, practical and kind thing to offer to do. I'm sure the school-gate Mums would have appreciated it too.
First I'm sorry to hear about your loss, that's terrible.
Second I'm glad you had a friend who was on your wavelength and could say something like that without causing further pain. That says a lot about you and your friend and the trust you had/have.
I do remember it took me a while to realise that the theology I had been taught was wrong (or wrongly applied), and that the appropriate faith response to someone who has experienced a tragedy is to be with them, sit with them, and see what they need - probably in silence.
It is easy to quote a passage and move on.
I think people are different and what is right for one is wrong for another.
When someone recently was grieving I was on the phone in silence. Because they were upset and there was nothing I could say that would comfort them.
I know other people who expect chatter. I think even in the aftermath of a traumatic experience they probably would expect people to be around and would draw strength from having conversations with others even if these were later completely forgotten.
Maybe there are people for whom the thing that they have grown to expect from their religious tradition is that there would be people around them who say comforting things.
Just because these latter things are of no comfort to me does not then mean they are of no comfort to anyone.
My usual first words to a bereaved person are, "How are you doing?" It seems to create an opening into conversation that works. I'm expecting to be doing it again in a few days.
My usual first words to a bereaved person are, "How are you doing?" It seems to create an opening into conversation that works. I'm expecting to be doing it again in a few days.
My usual first words to a bereaved person are, "How are you doing?" It seems to create an opening into conversation that works. I'm expecting to be doing it again in a few days.
Mine, too. Yes, it often works.
While I don’t necessarily disagree, care with tone is important here. At least where I live, “how are you doing?” is a standard friendly greeting, to which “Good,” “Fine” or “Great” are the expected responses. I’ve known of situations where someone used “How are you doing” with the intent of a sincere and sympathetic inquiry, but where it was heard as a casual greeting.
The mother of a lady who attends the same Pilates studio as me died suddenly a few weeks ago - ironically, on the health clinic premises. Whenever I see the daughter, or her daughter (who works at the same place), I always carefully ask how they're coping. They've both said how much they appreciate being asked, and for the opportunity to talk about themselves, and the lady who died.
Seems like when a person asks, "How are you doing?" The most they expect is a one word answer. Whereas, as Bishops Finger says, a gentle "How are you coping?" will elicit a more detailed answer.
I posted this here in Hell because of my frustration about it, but I am genuinely curious about the theological position that says -- this unambiguously bad thing happened : God is good. It's almost as if this person is trying to head-off any frustration with God. That's how I read it, perhaps reflexively.
A Shipmate educated me about a thing called "spiritual bypassing". It's something that some people do when they are having doubts or difficult feelings about God and can't cope in healthy ways with that, so they skip immediately to these kinds of obnoxious statements. I have someone in my family who does this, I think possibly because he genuinely worries that he might get smitten or something if he says "That sucks" or expresses anger toward God.
And then there are the people who think you can "manifest" something terrible if you ever, ever verbally acknowledge that bad things happen. And for them, saying this stuff is a way of warding off more evil.
I wish there was some way to prevent it, it just hurts more people. Ugh.
So it's like saying "avert" or doing something to distract the evil eye.
When a close friend of mine died of HIV-related illness in the 90s I remember sitting in a pub with someone (I was still drinking then) and he said ‘Isn’t it incredible how life goes on as if nothing has happened’. It was so apposite. It felt as if we were two static figures amidst a rushing world.
When my Mum died my sister’s husband rang me & he is a very stiff-upper-lip type fella not given to displays of emotion, but I found his rather incoherent, rambling display of concern deeply touched me, despite all its awkwardness.
As people have pointed out on the thread, most clunky attempts at theological consolation are well-intentioned. Plus I am daresay I’ve been clunky about others’ grief - particularly people I don’t know very well - in my time.
Several discussion groups I'm in mock the "thoughts and prayers" thing by posting pix of (tater) tots and pears.
I don't understand
Isn't just mocking T&Ps?
Yes. "Thoughts and prayers" becomes "tots and pears" - a perfect rhyme for many of us in the US who have merged the O in cot and caught, as @KarlLB notes.
I'm with Sojourner on this. I think you nailed that right on the nose.
Wish more people would apply it generally, not just to bereavement. 10 days or so ago someone connected with me on LinkedIn solely to, as far as I can see, advise me to do exactly what I've been doing for the last 20 months without success. Worse, I replied with minimal sarcasm instead of specifying the orifice appropriate for the action I suggested which I suspect would have both got the point across better and given me a bit of release for the fury it generated.
LI being a virtual platform, they are not physically there to discuss this with, of course.
That is a digression from the point of the thread. I suggest we keep it to this post.
I remember when a funeral service was being held at the local A.O.G. church which was next door to where I was living. On one of the bouquets of flowers was a card saying "Congratulations, you go there first!" Perhaps the post was in that sort of spirit.
My usual first words to a bereaved person are, "How are you doing?" It seems to create an opening into conversation that works. I'm expecting to be doing it again in a few days.
Mine, too. Yes, it often works.
While I don’t necessarily disagree, care with tone is important here. At least where I live, “how are you doing?” is a standard friendly greeting, to which “Good,” “Fine” or “Great” are the expected responses. I’ve known of situations where someone used “How are you doing” with the intent of a sincere and sympathetic inquiry, but where it was heard as a casual greeting.
I've recently learned I have this knack for dissociating myself into a "black hole" and just sitting quietly until they figure out the silence means I'm waiting for them to say something.
People talk to fill in the void. Sometimes the trick is to be the void. They'll talk. Americans don't like silence, in my experience. Or if they do, then I get some quiet.
And far as platitudes...it really varies by where you are. I find I let people pick their own and affirm whatever they're saying if I'm not familiar. "Smile and nod." If someone wants to use a trite bandage over a gaping wound, I may not be qualified to judge unless I've got something better.
I remember when a funeral service was being held at the local A.O.G. church which was next door to where I was living. On one of the bouquets of flowers was a card saying "Congratulations, you go there first!" Perhaps the post was in that sort of spirit.
My father and my godmother died on the same day, about 8 hours apart. Her daughter and I joke that they raced each other to the Pearly Gates.
I remember when a funeral service was being held at the local A.O.G. church which was next door to where I was living. On one of the bouquets of flowers was a card saying "Congratulations, you go there first!" Perhaps the post was in that sort of spirit.
My father and my godmother died on the same day, about 8 hours apart. Her daughter and I joke that they raced each other to the Pearly Gates.
My grandparents died no more than a couple of weeks apart. We're reasonably sure one held on until they were sure the other was coming along soon.
My Mum, and an old friend of hers from church, went a week or so apart. We joked that V_ had got the urn on early, so my Mum would be on washing up. I think they both would have hoped that tea-towels wash themselves in heaven. No shortage of people handy with a Gopak folding table up there though, dexterity with which is a surefire physical manifestation of one's Perseverance. (It was a Methodist church, but a joke about the Elect and the ubiquity of those b***** tables seemed nevertheless appropriate).
Is there a church more than a handful of years old that doesn't have at least some Gopak tables? Liturgy and music may vary from one denomination to another but Gopak tables are surely the greatest modern symbol of ecumenism.
During Covid, when social distancing was still required, but services could be held, Our Place arranged a pop-up chapel for weekday Mass. It was dedicated to St Gopak, on account of the origin of the temporary altar...
I never knew those wretched tables were called Gopak. I never did work out how to fold them, and I've come across a fair amout of the Berylware china too.
As for spouses dying at more or less the same time, the vicar at my grandmother's funeral who didn't really know her or my grandad had some lovely sentiments about 'in my Father's House there are many mansions.' He pictured them happy in a cosy heavenly abode. My abiding thought was yes, and they are probably still not talking to each other. It wasn't the happiest of marriages.
I love it. The only thing I have to say is that Berylware isn't always green - I've seen light blue, yellow and a sort of buff colour too.My present church doesn't use it anyway.
[Er .. we do tend to be straying from the theme of this thread ... although, of course, tea, possibly from Berylware cups, may be drunk at post-funeral receptions].
I wonder if those tables were named after a Ukrainian dance of the same name. It is highly energetic and acrobatic often performed in group at fesitivals and celebrations.
Somehow I doubt it. I hadn't realised they'd been going for over 70 years!
Given that the ones I started moving around 35 years ago weren't new it doesn't surprise me one bit. One thing I have learned is that turning them upside down for folding/unfolding the legs is counterproductive. Lay it flat where you want it, lift one end and unfold the legs, the lift the other and do the same. When putting them you stand at one end, pull the bar towards you and nudge a leg forward with a foot, at which point you can lower it to the ground, then repeat the other end, leaving both sets of legs folded. Yes, I've spent far too much time around these tables, why do you ask?
Alas, you're probably right, Shame - one could write an interesting hagiography about St Gopak, how s/he was martyred by having to put away an entire church hall-full of vicious and unChristian folding tables...
I believe that even good theology, if expressed in a non-helpful way, can be inappropriate when talking with someone dealing with tragedy. Also, some of the things people say can be at least technically accurate, but leaving out complementary truths that make a real difference when someone is hurting.
Many years ago, when I was grieving, when all I could do was stand at the back of the church during services and weep, I was sternly told off by a church member (not my beloved pastor) that it 'was a bad witness'. I ask you! I never spoke to that lady ever again.
Many years ago, when I was grieving, when all I could do was stand at the back of the church during services and weep, I was sternly told off by a church member (not my beloved pastor) that it 'was a bad witness'. I ask you! I never spoke to that lady ever again.
Many years ago, when I was grieving, when all I could do was stand at the back of the church during services and weep, I was sternly told off by a church member (not my beloved pastor) that it 'was a bad witness'. I ask you! I never spoke to that lady ever again.
Probably the kinder route. Sensible.
I'm afraid I would never have darkened the doors of that church again.
Our Place used to have a similar sort of lady - one with the pastoral skills of a mosquito - who actually caused me to suffer a long bout of depression. The parish priest at the time told me that 'a true Christian should never suffer from depression', his pastoral skills being those of a bed-bug.
I no longer identify as Christian, true or otherwise.
Comments
A phrase from 'Slaughterhouse five' is one of mine: 'So it goes'.
It is easy to quote a passage and move on.
When I was pregnant with my youngest, who we knew would be born with skeletal deformaties , one of my friends was going to take photos of him and pass them round the school-gate Mums, so that they could get over any initial shock before I returned to the school-gate. That way, I wouldn't have people avoiding me because they were worried about reacting badly.
In the event David was stillborn, but I still think that it was an incredibly sensible, practical and kind thing to offer to do. I'm sure the school-gate Mums would have appreciated it too.
A good example of bad theology in the face of tragedy. The psalmist is actually thanking God for sparing them from some tragic end. Basically saying that they were spared because the cost of their demise would be too costly (precious) for God to bear.
vs 8 For thou hast delivered my soul from death, mine eyes from tears, and my feet from falling. I will walk before the LORD in the land of the living.
I'm sure that's not how you intended it, but that reflects the sentiments of the psalmist. Hopefully those bereaved funeral attenders didn't go researching for context.
First I'm sorry to hear about your loss, that's terrible.
Second I'm glad you had a friend who was on your wavelength and could say something like that without causing further pain. That says a lot about you and your friend and the trust you had/have.
I think people are different and what is right for one is wrong for another.
When someone recently was grieving I was on the phone in silence. Because they were upset and there was nothing I could say that would comfort them.
I know other people who expect chatter. I think even in the aftermath of a traumatic experience they probably would expect people to be around and would draw strength from having conversations with others even if these were later completely forgotten.
Maybe there are people for whom the thing that they have grown to expect from their religious tradition is that there would be people around them who say comforting things.
Just because these latter things are of no comfort to me does not then mean they are of no comfort to anyone.
Mine, too. Yes, it often works.
The mother of a lady who attends the same Pilates studio as me died suddenly a few weeks ago - ironically, on the health clinic premises. Whenever I see the daughter, or her daughter (who works at the same place), I always carefully ask how they're coping. They've both said how much they appreciate being asked, and for the opportunity to talk about themselves, and the lady who died.
Very true.
It is more about seeing what the person needs, not talking just to fill the space, as some people are liable to do.
So it's like saying "avert" or doing something to distract the evil eye.
When my Mum died my sister’s husband rang me & he is a very stiff-upper-lip type fella not given to displays of emotion, but I found his rather incoherent, rambling display of concern deeply touched me, despite all its awkwardness.
As people have pointed out on the thread, most clunky attempts at theological consolation are well-intentioned. Plus I am daresay I’ve been clunky about others’ grief - particularly people I don’t know very well - in my time.
Yes. "Thoughts and prayers" becomes "tots and pears" - a perfect rhyme for many of us in the US who have merged the O in cot and caught, as @KarlLB notes.
I'm with Sojourner on this. I think you nailed that right on the nose.
Wish more people would apply it generally, not just to bereavement. 10 days or so ago someone connected with me on LinkedIn solely to, as far as I can see, advise me to do exactly what I've been doing for the last 20 months without success. Worse, I replied with minimal sarcasm instead of specifying the orifice appropriate for the action I suggested which I suspect would have both got the point across better and given me a bit of release for the fury it generated.
LI being a virtual platform, they are not physically there to discuss this with, of course.
That is a digression from the point of the thread. I suggest we keep it to this post.
I've recently learned I have this knack for dissociating myself into a "black hole" and just sitting quietly until they figure out the silence means I'm waiting for them to say something.
People talk to fill in the void. Sometimes the trick is to be the void. They'll talk. Americans don't like silence, in my experience. Or if they do, then I get some quiet.
And far as platitudes...it really varies by where you are. I find I let people pick their own and affirm whatever they're saying if I'm not familiar. "Smile and nod." If someone wants to use a trite bandage over a gaping wound, I may not be qualified to judge unless I've got something better.
My father and my godmother died on the same day, about 8 hours apart. Her daughter and I joke that they raced each other to the Pearly Gates.
My grandparents died no more than a couple of weeks apart. We're reasonably sure one held on until they were sure the other was coming along soon.
Berylware crockery (in various liturgical colours) also used to be fairly ubiquitous.
I think that the Berylware tended to be non-conformist, did it not? Obligatory link to the Beryline Prophecy:
https://cyber-coenobites.blogspot.com/2014/07/the-beryline-prophecy.html?m=1
How far are we away from testing the prophecy?
As for spouses dying at more or less the same time, the vicar at my grandmother's funeral who didn't really know her or my grandad had some lovely sentiments about 'in my Father's House there are many mansions.' He pictured them happy in a cosy heavenly abode. My abiding thought was yes, and they are probably still not talking to each other. It wasn't the happiest of marriages.
I love it. The only thing I have to say is that Berylware isn't always green - I've seen light blue, yellow and a sort of buff colour too.My present church doesn't use it anyway.
BTW do you know about Methodist tea? https://davewalker.com/methodist-tea-colours/
[Er .. we do tend to be straying from the theme of this thread ... although, of course, tea, possibly from Berylware cups, may be drunk at post-funeral receptions].
Given that the ones I started moving around 35 years ago weren't new it doesn't surprise me one bit. One thing I have learned is that turning them upside down for folding/unfolding the legs is counterproductive. Lay it flat where you want it, lift one end and unfold the legs, the lift the other and do the same. When putting them you stand at one end, pull the bar towards you and nudge a leg forward with a foot, at which point you can lower it to the ground, then repeat the other end, leaving both sets of legs folded. Yes, I've spent far too much time around these tables, why do you ask?
Wait until you have to first lever them from the floor they were nailed to a century ago!
Probably the kinder route. Sensible.
I'm afraid I would never have darkened the doors of that church again.
Our Place used to have a similar sort of lady - one with the pastoral skills of a mosquito - who actually caused me to suffer a long bout of depression. The parish priest at the time told me that 'a true Christian should never suffer from depression', his pastoral skills being those of a bed-bug.
I no longer identify as Christian, true or otherwise.
Been there, done that (well, we had workmen in to do it).