53 Comments
User's avatar
Linda Stoll's avatar

Christine, I want to shout this wisdom from the rooftops. The older I get the more I realize that often there is nothing meaningful to speak and our presence is more meaningful in times of trouble when we hush our incessant chatter.

Expand full comment
Christine Vaughan Davies's avatar

"when we hush our incessant chatter" - what a great line and it's so hard to do. I'm working on a post that delves more fully into the power of silence and may need to quote you!

Expand full comment
Jon Swanson's avatar

I do, from time to time, tell people that they can punch the next person that says some of these things and that they can say the hospital chaplain gave them permission.

I also wrote a small book called "This is Hard: What I say when loved ones die" to help with finding words to say. And hear.

Thank you.

Expand full comment
Christine Vaughan Davies's avatar

I love that you give people that permission! And your book sounds so important, I am looking forward to reading it as well as your substack.

Expand full comment
Sarah Coomber's avatar

Thank you for the excellent reminders ... this is such an important piece. Although I've tried to weed out all of those platitudes, they can sometimes slip out! Augh!

I was on the receiving end of one recently -- from a good friend -- and was surprised at how it caused me to try to fake being "fine" when I wasn't. For a whole long conversation I faked fine-ness. At the end, I felt like a fraud, a really sad fraud.

I want to do my best not to put someone else in that position.

Expand full comment
Christine Vaughan Davies's avatar

It is not surprising they come out, because they are so deeply rooted in our societal lexicon. I'm sorry that your friend not only missed you, but silenced you and made you feel inauthentic. For what it's worth, I think the faking fine is a natural reaction because it often takes too much pain and energy to call people out on these in the moment.

Expand full comment
ricardo's avatar

bad experience...sorry about that

Expand full comment
Mary Austin (she/her)'s avatar

So wisely said. In a recent sermon, we yelled “boo” to many of these, and it was surprisingly delightful to yell our frustration about these unhelpful platitudes in church.

Expand full comment
Christine Vaughan Davies's avatar

Oh I wish I could have been in that congregation! How powerful that must have been. Was it recorded? I will totally watch if it's on youtube and shout boo from my couch!

Expand full comment
Mary Austin (she/her)'s avatar

It was. I can’t remember which Sunday. Part of the series on “Giving Up Toxic Christianity for Lent.” You can just yell “boo!” from your couch at random, in solidarity.

Expand full comment
ricardo's avatar

amazing

Expand full comment
Julian Denise Greene's avatar

Thomas Merton said, "there is greater comfort in the substance of silence than in the answer to a question."

Expand full comment
Christine Vaughan Davies's avatar

Oh I love this! I'm working on a post about silence now and will have to incorporate this!

Expand full comment
Karmen Frisvold's avatar

It hit a chord when you said that the reason so many people leave church is because of the lack of authenticity. Not only not receiving it from others, but also feeling like your own authenticity is unwelcome.

Expand full comment
Christine Vaughan Davies's avatar

Absolutely. Isn't it devastating when a place of hopeful refuge becomes a place of pain and judgement? I'm working on another post about various types of spiritual toxcitiy because sadly these stories are so common.

Expand full comment
Christine Slater's avatar

In my many years of ministry, I learned that presence and accompaniment are the two most important things you do. Talking is down the list a bit. And often it isn’t even necessary.

Thank you for pointing out that words, however well intentioned - perhaps more especially so - always have the capacity to make something worse.

Expand full comment
Christine Vaughan Davies's avatar

I'm so glad you found your way here and for your intimate knowledge of how to do this work!

Expand full comment
Christine Slater's avatar

Likewise!

Expand full comment
Veronica Llorca-Smith's avatar

What a brilliant article, Christine.

I couldn't agree more with what you said.

Sometimes it's better to simply shut up, listen and give someone a hug. That's it.

Expand full comment
Christine Vaughan Davies's avatar

Thanks, we can be more effective if we keep it simple!

Expand full comment
Abigail's avatar

This is so good. I don't think I ever said these sorts of things before I had my miscarriage, and had typically shrugged them off when I heard others say them. But after my miscarriage? Yeah, stuff like this hurt so bad and I wanted to yell at the people who said it.

Any advice on how to gently ask someone who repeats one of these platitudes to not? Or explain how they are actually harmful, not healing?

Sidenote: Do you have any good resources on the role of humor in grieving? About two weeks after my miscarriage, I hit a roadblock where I needed to find something to laugh at in order to take a break in between the waves of grief so I could survive the next wave (and handle it in a healthy way). This is probably highly individual (everyone's grief journey is), but I don't think I've heard anyone else talk about that.

Expand full comment
Christine Vaughan Davies's avatar

Abigail,

Thanks so much for reading. It's lovely to meet you and I look forward to reading your work too!

I could write a whole post on the #$% people said to me after my miscarriages! I wrote a little more about it here - https://journeyingalongside.substack.com/p/beyond-the-celebration

When people say these platitudes, if you are actively grieving, I saw just brush it off and move on. It may not be worth your emotional energy. When people say them to me, I use it as a teachable moment. I usually say something like, "I know you mean well, but sometimes that phrase hurts more than it helps" Or you know, feel free to just send them this post!

As to humor - it's been on my list to write about for a while, so perhaps I'll get writing on that topic sooner rather than later. The closest thing I have to that right now is a post I did a while back about joy in the midst of sorrow - https://journeyingalongside.substack.com/p/doubling-the-joy

Expand full comment
Emily Curzon's avatar

These are such wise words about such an important aspect of grief, or rather grieving alongside others. When my sister died, I clung to those who showed up to just sit next to me on the couch. Presence does matter. Thanks so much Christine!

Expand full comment
Christine Vaughan Davies's avatar

Thank you for sharing about your experience here and what helped you through it. I'm glad you had others show up and grieve alongside you in your pain. Sitting on the couch is so important!

Expand full comment
ricardo's avatar

this breaks me dear

Expand full comment
Peter Wright's avatar

Christine, this should be printed and handed out to every one who enters a church or visits the family of a terminal patient in hospital. I come from a much more down-to-earth and plain speaking environment than I think is common in my new country in Canada. I am amazed how frequently I hear these platitudes and am grateful that my experience helps me "show up and shut up" when required.

Expand full comment
Christine Vaughan Davies's avatar

Ah thank you for seeing the value in this post, I believe it's such an important message that does need to be shared with others. If you want, we can turn this the article for you blog to correspond to the podcast episode we recorded.

Expand full comment
Amanda Fowler's avatar

Oh wow friend. Absolutely love what you're saying here and could not agree more.

Expand full comment
Christine Vaughan Davies's avatar

Thanks for reading. It's common sense, but so hard to get others to follow along.

Expand full comment
Sherry Morrison's avatar

I cringe when people say “I’ve been blessed”, implying that others less fortunate have been overlooked or punished by God. Thanks for validating

Expand full comment
Christine Vaughan Davies's avatar

Yes! That is another example of problematic theology due to what it says about others. It reminds me of a seminary a classmate when talking about an experience where she escaped a traumatic situation and said "God didn't want me to get assaulted that day" as if God wants that to happen to others?! We have to think through how our statements can feel/sound to the others listening.

Expand full comment
Mark Longhurst's avatar

Very wise and well-put, Christine! Thank you for inviting us into solidarity with suffering instead of trite and hasty escapism.

Expand full comment
Christine Vaughan Davies's avatar

Thanks Mark! The hasty escapism can be tempting but we know that's not where we are called to be!

Expand full comment
Amy Walsh's avatar

This is a particularly interesting and important example of how intent and impact can diverge in our speech. My experience with this is a bit different because I have information people need to know, but I can’t stay long, so I neither show up nor shut up. That said, I think that delivering bad news and end of life discussions are something that I am particularly good at. A few things that feel key to that are slow down, take enough deep breaths that your feelings aren't running the conversation and that aren'treactive to whatever emotions come at you, make sure we all know the same facts, answer all questions, make sure they know it's not their fault. Be with them in silence for as long as I practically can or until I can hand off to a chaplain. There's more to it that's hard to articulate, but those are somethings that come to mind.

Expand full comment
Christine Vaughan Davies's avatar

I so appreciate your reflection here. And of course, you definitely cannot shut up, as your words are so important. Maybe this is one of the topics we need to colloborate on! I've tried to teach MDs in the past how to give bad news as sensitively as possible but it can be hard to teach and many of the residents have seen it modeled so terribly.

Expand full comment
Amy Walsh's avatar

Ooh, yeah, I'd love to, but it might be like that time I tried to teach my husband to ski. Some things are hard to unknow once you know them, so some good questions or prompts would be really helpful.

Expand full comment
Christine Vaughan Davies's avatar

I would not be a good student of skiing either!

There was an older model/method I’ll have to dig up that I sometimes gave out an article about, but even that wasn’t the greatest.

Expand full comment
Amy Walsh's avatar

Oh, he was a fine student. I was a bad teacher. I said things like “you lean and then you lean the other way”

Expand full comment
Edward Goode's avatar

I am grateful that I have learned to avoid these. Unfortunately, some it came in learning the hard way in my CPE internship in seminary...Stories could be told.

I find myself going more and more to the beginning of Job in times like this - not when all the things come upon him but that single line of how his three friends showed up and they simply at with him for 7 days because they saw how great his suffering was.

And then things go off the rails when they start to talk...

Expand full comment
Christine Vaughan Davies's avatar

Oh I want to hear those hard-won stories of learning (maybe a future post for you?) because there is so much richness in those encounters where we mess up and learn how not to do things.

I too think about Job here and use his friends as examples when teaching this to my CPE students.

Expand full comment
ricardo's avatar

good thoughtful of you

Expand full comment