Sunday, March 18, 2018

Insensitive Speech for $1000 - Please Keep Your Judgements and Backhanded Compliments to Yourself

I know that it can be hard to find the right words of comfort in the face of someone else's grief.  There are times when I struggle to know what to say or how to help.  Choosing words is not always easy, however, I've come to discover that there are some comments that cause more harm than help.  

I'm sure that there are good intentions behind these comments.  However, on reaching the recipient, they can be less than complimentary or even exclusive.  You may note that some of these comments are gender-specific or may affect a woman very differently than a man hearing the same words. 
If you find yourself leaning toward any of the statements on this list, please consider the nuances and alternate meanings described below.  As a general rule of thumb, be mindful of the questions you ask any mourner, but certainly, don't ask a woman any questions you would never think of asking a man. If you can think of additional comments that would be preferable, please share so we can enhance this list with constructive advice for those who seek it.


Charged Comment: Is anyONE in the Shloshim?
  • This one really caught me at the beginning of my foray into Kaddish.  Fresh out of the shiva house, I would be waiting for the service to begin, perhaps chatting with someone else in the synagogue, and all of a sudden, the word shloshim caught my attention as surely as a "squirrel!" running through the room.  Yes, I'm in the shloshim, I responded immediately in my head.  Then realizing that the men were looking for a MAN to lead the service, I realized on the second beat that those asking were not computing the fact of my presence or my pain in being both summoned and excluded at the same time.  
Try this instead: "Does anyONE have a chiyuv (obligation)?"
  • In an Orthodox setting, the halachic obligation to lead a service, pray with a minyan, falls squarely on the men.  While I am choosing to recite Kaddish regularly this year to honor my father's memory, I do not have the same obligation as a man to lead the service and I accept this differential by choosing to attend an Orthodox synagogue to recite Kaddish.  Thus, this is the best way to make this announcement in this setting (in my opinion) and encompasses both Shloshim, Yortzeit and the year of Aveilut.
  • Another option: "Is anyMAN in the Shloshim?"  
    • This question at least acknowledged my presence in the room and my pain in being bereft of my parent.  The anyONE question tries to be inclusive, yet does not address the elephant in the room which is known by any who choose to pray in an Orthodox setting.  Being direct and acknowledging the obvious goes a long way.  



Charged Comment: "Wow, you go to Minyan 3 times a day!  That's a lot!"
  • This comment hits in two ways, depending on who is speaking.  One perspective hits like a backhanded compliment: "Wow, that's so impressive that you make the effort to go so much!"  In my head, I want to respond: "Ok, thanks, but I'm not going because I want to... I'm going because it feels like the right thing to do while I'm mourning my father."
  • The other side comes across more as a judgment "Why are you bothering to go to synagogue so often? Don't you know that women aren't obligated in this?"  To which I want to respond: "Yes, I do know, and I've encountered many challenging situations as a woman entering a man's space to say kaddish.  It's definitely not easy, and often more challenging for me than for the men who are in the same position.  And yet, it still feels like the right thing to do for me at this time to honor my father as I move through the mourning process.  So please keep your judgments to yourself." 
Try this instead: "That takes dedication."  
  • Keep it neutral, and try to keep the judgment out of your voice.  If you want to continue the conversation, try one of these.  I have plenty to say about the experience itself, but I'd rather not feel the need defend my choices in casual conversation.
    • What have you learned?  
    • What have you found meaningful? 
    • What challenges have you encountered?



Charged Comment: "Don't you have any brothers?"
  • There are many ways to answer this, but all of them ask me to defend my choice to recite kaddish myself.  I am my father's child - why shouldn't I honor him by saying Kaddish? 
  • What if I don't have any brothers?  Does that mean I should outsource Kaddish to someone outside the family simply because I am my father's daughter and not his son?  Why can't I also honor my father by saying Kaddish as his CHILD?  
  • What if I have a brother who is choosing a different path?  For starters, it's not your place to remind me of this.  Families come in all shapes and sizes and choices and your judgment that my brother should be saying Kaddish instead of me (or in addition)... well, maybe it's not something I haven't thought of before.  Maybe that's one more hurt that I'm feeling, at the same time as I'm saying Kaddish for my father.  
  • What if I have a brother who IS saying Kaddish?  Am I not my father's child too?  Why should Kaddish be limited to only one of my father's children because he is male?
  • And finally, why is MY family situation YOUR business?  I came to you to find an opportunity to say Kaddish with a minyan.  Please save your judgments for a more opportune time (or never). 
Try This:  Just don't ask.  If curiosity overwhelms you, perhaps ask "Do you have any company in saying Kaddish for your father?"  But read the knee-jerk responses above before deciding whether satisfying your curiosity is the best choice for the moment. 



Charged Comment: "Wow, look at all the beautiful women in Shul today!"
  • This is another backhanded compliment.  Because women are not halachically obligated in daily communal prayer, those who do attend often do so because they are saying Kaddish.  As such, your comment is tantamount to "Look how many beautiful grieving women we have in shul today!"  I'm sure this is hardly what you mean to say, as I'd like to believe that you would never want to call attention to our pain.  Yes, there is some beauty in the camaraderie that forms when people come together to achieve a certain goal, but the response to your comment, at least in my head, reads: "yes, I'm here today, because I'm saying Kaddish.  I wish I didn't have to be here for this reason, and I wish even more that you didn't feel the need to remind me that I'm here in Shul today because my father is not." 
Try This: NOTHING.  
  • Don't say anything.  It's not your place to comment.  Move on. At the very least, comment on the camaraderie that you see or offer to be a listening ear.  Perhaps try "It's good to see you today, how is saying Kaddish going?" or even better... if you happen to be an officer of a Shul, ask how the Shul can make saying Kaddish easier for women in the future.  Now THAT would be a help, more than a hindrance!



Charged Comment: "How much time do you have left (to say Kaddish)?"

  • Ouch.  This one really hurt in ways I didn't see coming.  First of all, it required me to calculate how long it has been since my father passed away and how much time remained of my marathon year of Kaddish.  As exhausting as it is and has been, contemplating the end of the year (or the eleven months) cut like a knife, as it forced my feelings of loss and fear of the end of this structured mourning period into sharp, unwanted focus.  
  • Though it seems like a long time, now that I'm past the halfway point of the year, every additional day that I get to go to Shul and recite Kaddish for my father feels like a gift... a last lingering connection with my father.  I dread the day that will mark the end of this period of intense and daily remembering and begin a chapter of a new normal where my first thought on waking up is something other than "Daddy" and the idea that there is still something concrete that I can do with my feet/body/words/&soul to honor him. 
  • Of course there are times when I, myself, look forward to lazy Sundays and sleeping in perhaps a little later some days of the week.  Don't think for a moment that it's not hard some days and weeks.  I have not yet figured out (at the 7-month point) what role prayer/minyan/shul will play in my life after the end of this year.  It's hard to wrap my mind around the idea of "THE END" juxtaposed with the challenges I'm currently facing.  Please know that I don't mean to jump down your throat with my response to your innocent question - these thoughts are just something I need to express somehow, some way, and this blog has become my forum for doing so.  I hope I will not be quite so stark in person!
Try This: "How long has it been?" 

  • This may not seem substantively different than the first comment, but it allows me to stay in the moment and focus on what I have done until now, rather than on the dwindling time I have left to continue to do it.





If you have caught yourself using any of these charged comments in the past, don't waste time feeling bad.  Just try to choose your words more carefully going forward.  I appreciate your all of efforts to help, especially when your intentions are good and the words just don't come out as you or I would have wished.   Thank you many times over for all of your love and support in this difficult time. 






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I am an educator who is trained to reflect, not a rabbi or any type of halachic authority. These writings are in no way binding, and may not represent all approaches to and experiences in navigating grief. In fact, there will likely be those who disagree with me or can offer additional suggestions and reflections. For this reason, I am leaving the comments section open so that together as a community, we can broaden the scope of this blog to include a majority of human experience.

One important request: Please be respectful in posting your comments and be sure to frame your tips in the most positive phrasing possible. I reserve the right to delete any unkind comments and plan to update the original posts occasionally to include additional insights and reflections from our combined experience.

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