The Art of Comforting Mourners

As sensitive and caring people, we try to do the right thing. Sometimes, however, trying to do the right thing, and not succeeding, can do more harm than good.

Such is the case with comforting the bereaved. One of the worst things that consolers can do is to resort to cliches that are not only worn out, but downright silly.

One of the worst things that consolers can do is to resort to cliches that are not only worn out, but downright silly.

One cliche making the rounds is, "He or she is in a better place." How can anyone know such a thing? This statement is not helpful to the mourner. What we do know is that this world is a good place -- for it is a place to do good. Death, therefore, is a tragedy.

Another remark that turns mourners off is that God needed the deceased more than the living needed him. Again, how can anyone know that? Moreover, it makes God into some sort of self-absorbed entity who wreaks tragedy in this world for the purpose of drafting people onto His heavenly team.

Yet another no-no is to suggest -- usually following the death of a person who has lived well into the eighties or nineties -- that "at least he or she lived a full life." No matter how well-intended these words are, they are a cruel invasion of the mourner's emotions. They trivialize the mourning and make whoever is in despair feel as if they are grieving unnecessarily. This disconnects the mourner from the consoler when the purpose of offering comfort is primarily to connect.

Many people who have gone through mourning for parents have complained to me about receiving this comment. They claim that such rationalizing is demeaning and undermines their feelings. They believe that the experience of many years together with parents makes separation after death more difficult, rather than less so.

A couple was grieving the loss of a six-month-old daughter. A well-meaning ‘sage' came by and offered that, "She died as a perfect soul, never having had the chance to sin." He meant well, and truthfully many people in similar circumstances might be comforted by this remark. But these parents were in fact very upset by the comment. It is true that the young girl had no opportunity to sin, but she also had no opportunity to do good, and that was the unaddressed -- even ignored -- lament of the grieving family.

The problem -- and the challenge -- is that it takes more than good intentions to be an effective consoler. And presumptuous comments about the good side of a terrible tragedy are tricky at best, highly damaging at worst. A young widow was hurt by a friend during the mourning for her husband, who suggested, with the best of intentions, that, "You are young and pretty, you will soon find someone."

Without getting too deep into more examples, we can add to the collection of no-no's such phrases as "I know how you feel," "Life goes on," "You will heal," "Count your blessings," "You have other children," "Your grief will pass," and "You have your whole life ahead of you." All these expressions trivialize the mourning, rather than appreciating the gravity of the grief.

Condolence visits challenge us to be exceedingly sensitive and careful with our lips. Once the words come out, they cannot, unlike cars, be recalled. It is nice when the mourners themselves are understanding and appreciate our good intentions, but we should not rely on this.

You may ask, "If everything I say is potentially no good, what should I say?" Great question. And the answer is: say nothing! Say nothing? Is it not the obligation of the comforter to offer words of comfort? The answer, surprising as it may sound, is no. It is not the obligation of the consoler to offer words of comfort. The consoler's obligation is to comfort, plain and simple.

Comfort is achieved simply by being there, with the mourner, even in silence.

How can one comfort without saying anything? Comfort is achieved simply by being there, with the mourner, even in silence. Everyone would agree that coming and saying nothing is preferable to coming and saying something silly or unwelcome. Of course, the best result is attained by coming and sharing wise thoughts and reflections.

But how can one know what is appropriate when every mourner thinks differently? The answer -- through silence, through coming with lips sealed and ears wide open. That is the Jewish protocol, an often-ignored protocol, for mourning visitation. Come there, sit, and listen. The mourner will start talking, and you will then know where the mourner is. You can then respond. This is the safe, sensitive, and sensible way to be a comforter.

Affirming the mourner, and the mourning, is critical. Acknowledging the difficulty in finding the right words is a comforting gesture. Wanting to learn more about the deceased, when appropriate, is also welcome when one senses the mourner would like this.

One of the most effective sources of comfort is saying nice things about the deceased and about the mourner. Stories about the deceased, especially ones of which the bereaved was not aware, are a great source of comfort, often bringing a smile to the face of the mourner. Saying kind things to the mourner can also be quite comforting, such as expressing admiration for love shared, or care given.

Always remember that no matter how awkward you may feel when visiting a mourner, it's not about you. It's about the mourner. What will make the mourner feel better (as opposed to yourself)? What will bring a smile to her face? The answer may be hard to come up with, or you may have many answers. The more effort that you put into answering this question, the more likely it is that you will really fulfill the religious and social obligation of comforting the mourner. And the more likely, then, that the mourner will be helped along on his way from grief to gratitude—gratitude for the life of his loved one.

Based on Rabbi Bulka's new book, Turning Grief into Gratitude