When I started out in the
rabbi business over 35 years ago, it was rare that any family or friend of the deceased would rise before the gathered and give a eulogy. Eulogies were left to the professionals and
personal reminiscences found their expression during the shivah. There has been a dramatic change in that
paradigm, as anyone who has been to a funeral recently can attest. Both family and friends take to the podium
for some good words, which is precisely what eulogy means, “eu” from the Greek
meaning well and “logia” from the Greek meaning speaking.
This protocol shift is
probably due to a confluence of changes.
The clergy, in general, have not been living up to their holiness
standards, as the media has exposed—as well they should—a host of
disillusioning scandals. The growth in a
more casual approach to ritual has diminished the need for clergy at all. And finally, there is the fact that sometimes
clergy just underperformed in the eulogy department, speaking at length
philosophically, and perhaps poetically, with little having to do with the
deceased. Or speaking of the deceased at
length—but not necessarily the one that was being buried. A good friend of the family could easily walk
away from a funeral with the question—“Who was that rabbi describing
anyway? Not the character I knew…” And so we have what we have today, lay
eulogies in abundance.
When I arrange a funeral, I
typically meet with family a day or two before, both to serve as a basis of the
eulogy I hope to write, but even more importantly, for the family to remember
and reminisce. It really is very
therapeutic. I begin by asking if anyone
from the family would like to speak and nine times out of ten, some of them do. I will never give a eulogy prior to the
family speakers (though once a family demanded that I do) as I’d rather the
family say what they need to say without the rabbi doing it for them. In the final analysis, I have heard some
outstanding eulogies penned by personal friends and family of the
deceased. And then there is the
occasional disaster. So again, having
had a certain degree of experience in the field, I present the following
recommendations for your consideration.
I realize that there is a certain degree of danger in trying to reign in
a family’s need for expression at such an emotionally-laden time. And there is even a tradition that would have
rabbis rule as leniently as possibly during a time of sorrow—a sense that
whatever is going to bring solace to the family should be permitted even when
not 100% within kosher boundaries. I get
all that. But again, you be the judge
regarding the following:
1)
Please do not ask, on the spot, if there is
anyone who would like to say a few words about the deceased. This may work when only a few people are in
attendance, but at a large gathering, it opens the possibility of Uncle Sid
coming to the podium, unprepared, and beginning to ramble for the next 15
minutes about well…who knows? It’s Uncle
Sid and sometimes he’s on task and sometimes he’s on a flask and you just never
know what’s going to come out of his mouth.
Before the first words are spoken at the funeral, there should be a
general consensus by the family as to who will be called to speak.
2)
Try to have whatever it is you want to say
written down. In other words, come
prepared. Public speaking may look easy,
but it can be very intimidating. People
typically think what they have to say is far briefer than the time it actually
takes to say it. It’s that old quip,
attributed to many though true nonetheless, that the people who speak for over
an hour do so because they didn’t have enough time to write a shorter
speech. Brevity is beauty and the one
who can speak succinctly will hold the attention of the listeners best.
3)
If you know yourself to be an emotional person,
and the possibility exists that you will dissolve into tears mid-eulogy, it’s a
good idea to have a back-up speaker who can take over and finish the good words
you have prepared. Watching a person
weep in public is heart-wrenching, and trying to hear the words of a person who
is sobbing through a eulogy is virtually impossible. Have your pinch-hitter waiting in the wings.
4)
Granted, it’s no easy task limiting the number
of speakers to speak, but the fact is listening to ten speakers speak can be a
burden. It is especially so when the
first four speakers have now said about everything that ought to be said at the
funeral, the remaining six simply repeating with little variation what already
has been said. You can tell when an
audience has reached their eulogy limit when the majority of the chapel
consists of people whose heads are bowed low, mostly because they are checking
their email.
5)
A great eulogy is one in which the truth is told
with dignity. This is the reason why
some funerals will present a greater challenge than others because the truth
about a person’s life is not necessarily a story of dignity or integrity. A eulogy can be colorful and even humorous,
under the right conditions, but it shouldn’t be ribald or vulgar. No one needs a listing of the deceased’s
favorite strip clubs, or how he relieved himself the night that he and the
speaker were totally smashed. There’s a
place for those stories, and the funeral is not the place.
6)
Finally, and this has got to be my favorite
recommendation of all those given, please don’t use the F-word in the
eulogy. There are a number of other
words that ought to be avoided but I suspect you catch my drift. I once sat through a eulogy where the speaker
said the F-word eight times (I counted). The first time, people
laughed. The second time, not so
much. Every time thereafter, it was just
irritating. As an addendum, people
sometimes feel compelled to apologize to the seated clergy before they actually
curse. I’m not exactly certain why this
happens. Either the apology renders the
curse kosher, a sort of soaking and salting of the curse before consumption, or
maybe there’s a concern that if a curse enters the rabbi’s virgin ears, his or
her head will explode. I hereby disabuse
you of that illusion. I have personally
heard many a curse and so far, my head is intact. My hair isn’t, but not due to any profanity, as far as I can
tell.
There
you have it: six recommendations to help the lay person navigate the emotional
waters of speaking well of the dead. When
a child speaks of a parent or a devoted nephew or niece of their loved one, it
can be a beautiful moment. I’ve
witnessed those moments. But we do need
some ground rules going forward. One
last recommendation. You may need to
consult this piece at some time in the future.
Cut it out of this paper. File
it, and may you never have to use it for at least 120 years.
