Well meaning friends . . . or not

After over 35 or more years of seeing people die and then trying to help family and friends deal with that I’ve found the only safe thing to say is that you’re sorry for their loss. If you try to do more or try and make sense of someone’s dying whethere it’s a newborn or or a 90+ year old, you’re going to say the wrong thing. In Harold Kushner’s book, “When Bad Things Happen To Good People”, he remembered a woman that came to him distraught over the death of her child. A well meaning person has told her that God only gave us trials that we were strong enough to bear and her first thought was that if she were a weaker person, her child would be alive. For me the only thing to do is to let people know you’re sorry and then stand ready to help them with whatever that means for them.

This is such a hard thing, since people really do try to help in those times when they end up hurting instead.

There was a wonderful post over on BCC some time ago that came to mind when I read this post. I’ll try to find it and provide a link.

Here it is:

“I Pray You . . . Bear My Joy Awhile” (http://bycommonconsent.com/2011/09/29/i-pray-you-bear-my-joy-awhile/)

Amen, Brian.

I know a mother who lost her husband to disease. They had children ranging in age from pre-school to high school. One of their sons had struggled with lots of things most of his life.

When her husband died, the only thing that helped her was to believe that God had a more important work for her husband to do. Expressing that belief nearly killed her son, emotionally. He heard, “God thinks I’m not important.”

When grief is strong, the only thing that is relatively non-damaging is support and care. Sometimes, words simply fail.

Of course what they are really doing is trying to make sense of Job’s problems. They want:

1.The universe to make sense.

2.The universe to make sense in a way that assures them that they are inoculated or protected against bad things happening to them.

3.Job to get over it so he is not a cloud in their lives.

4.To “help” without actually having to do anything.

After over 35 or more years of seeing people die and then trying to help family and friends deal with that I’ve found the only safe thing to say is that you’re sorry for their loss. If you try to do more or try and make sense of someone’s dying whether it’s a newborn or a 90+ year old, you’re going to say the wrong thing. In Harold Kushner’s book, “When Bad Things Happen To Good People”, he remembered a woman that came to him distraught over the death of her child. A well meaning person has told her that God only gave us trials that we were strong enough to bear and her first thought was that if she were a weaker person, her child would be alive. For me the only thing to do is to let people know you’re sorry and then stand ready to help them with whatever that means for them.

Well said GBSmith,

In trying to make sense of the death of our daughter we thought that maybe God was using this to bring about a mighty change in us – with the other side of the coin being that if we were less stubborn he could change us through less drastic means.

A pastor told my wife that “people just die…it happens all the time.” While technically true, this was highly offensive to DW.

I’ve been told, “You have so much Joy left in your life,” “You will have more children,” and “cheer up – you will have her again in the eternities.”

When DW told an old friend some about our declining attendance in the LDS ward, they chastised her and reminded her that she had to stay worthy to raise her child in the millennium.

An LDS coworker relayed an SS lesson taught by our bishop that we would all be tested to see if we will remain true. I am not sure if we were specifically mentioned as an example but the coworker came to warn me that I was failing my test. The idea that my daughter may have died to try my loyalty to the LDS church did not warm my soul.

I do think that all of this is “well meaning” but it is also an attempt to make sense of the issue from their POV. Most people are rather uncomfortable with the topic and the situation and most people are not totally equipped be the type of listening ear or support that might be needed. I believe that sometimes people with very defined ideas about the afterlife may be especially bad at this because they have too much at stake and if you are mad at God or don’t accept their religious explanations they may become flustered or worse – critical.

There are some that are gifted with empathy and the ability to listen and they are a Godsend, But if that is not you – an “I’m sorry for your loss” and maybe a hug will go a long way.

It seems so wrong and almost playful of God to give us trials for that reason — to test our loyalty. It seems even worse to use it to test loyalty to an organization or person.

I agree, but I do think I understand the thought process. “Why did X happen to good faithful Peter Priesthood? Oh, it was a test and all he needs to do is hold firm to the iron rod and everything will work out for the best. Case Closed.”

Of course what they are really doing is trying to make sense of Job’s problems. They want:

1.The universe to make sense.

I love that interpretation. In fact, I think I heard it once from someone (maybe you) but it never really sunk in until now.

But that interpretation raises other questions. I thought that because he was about to sacrifice his son, he passed the test, and therefore, was given all the blessings of the Abrahamic covenant, which we then have access to through temple ordinances. So, if Abraham was blessed by God to have those blessings made available to him, what did he do to warrant them if he failed the test?

I also wonder a bit about Job and the JS story where he asked people to give up their wives to him, out of a test of loyalty. I was told that story about JS in the MTC by one of my trainers. AT the time, it didn’t even phase me, but now, it seems unconscionable.

Of course what they are really doing is trying to make sense of Job’s problems. They want:

1.The universe to make sense.

2.The universe to make sense in a way that assures them that they are inoculated or protected against bad things happening to them.

3.Job to get over it so he is not a cloud in their lives.

4.To “help” without actually having to do anything.

I ran across some interesting comments by a researcher that I believe dovetail nicely with the topic:

Vulnerability is not weakness, nor is it optional. We can’t opt out of the uncertainty, exposure, and emotional risks that are woven through our daily experiences. Like it or not, vulnerability is coming, and we have to decide if we’re going to open up to it or push it away.

The only choice we really have is how we’re going to respond to feeling vulnerable. And contrary to popular belief, our shields don’t protect us. They simply keep us from being seen, heard, and known.

If there’s anything I’ve learned over the past decade and experienced firsthand over the last year, it’s this: Our willingness to own and engage with our vulnerability determines the depth of our courage and the clarity of our purpose.

Even if letting ourselves be seen and opening ourselves up to judgment or disappointment feels terrifying, the alternatives are worse: Choosing to feel nothing — numbing. Choosing to perfect, perform, and please our way out of vulnerability. Choosing rage, cruelty, or criticism. Choosing shame and blame. Like most of you reading this, I have some experience with all of these alternatives, and they all lead to same thing: disengagement and disconnection.

One of my favorite quotes is from theologian Howard Thurman. He writes, “Don’t ask what the world needs; ask what makes you come alive, and go do it. Because what the world needs is more people who have come alive.” Vulnerability is not easy, but it’s the surest sign that we’ve come alive.

And this brings me back to Wendy Ulrich’s essay:

The fourth and final stage of committed relationships is about renewal. Not exactly a renewal of the honeymoon, but a more mature, realistic, and truly loving renewal. We come to accept our spouse or our parents or the Church, and we come to accept ourselves. We allow God to run the universe, and we become more content to let go of things we cannot change. A deeper, more mature love begins to emerge, with fewer power struggles and less disengagement. We do not need to see all the answers, and we do not need perfection by our standards in order to not be embarrassed or ashamed of our Church, our partner, or our God. We reinvest in the relationship, not because we have decided to risk yet one more time that we will not get hurt only to have the rug pulled out yet one more time from under us, but because we have learned that hurt can be survived, that this is a risk worth taking, and that it does not mean we cannot be happy or that we are irrational suckers or that we are doomed to failure because we take another chance on trust or because we fail or are failed again. We see ourselves and our partner more realistically, and we do not run from either vision. We recognize that we can be hurt by being betrayed or we can be hurt by not trusting, but we don’t get the no-hurt choice because there isn’t one, at least not until we simply choose not to read betrayal into every ecclesiastical failure, or abandonment into every unanswered prayer.

“Believest thou…?”: Faith, Cognitive Dissonance, and the Psychology of Religious Experience by Wendy Ulrich, Ph.D.

What are your thoughts on how these topics relate? What does this mean to you?