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.
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.