Tuesday, March 14, 2017

PLEASE DON’T USE THE F-WORD IN THE EULOGY


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.