This week I was confronted with a new situation - The Religious Office Card - and I wasn’t quite sure how to act. In our office (of 9 employees), we had a coworker, whose sister lost her husband the weekend before. Another person in the office thought it would be a nice gesture if we got a card to sign and send to the sister.

I’m not a particularly emotional person, so this seemed a little odd to me. Seeing as how nobody in the office was even so much as an acquaintance to the sister, it almost seemed a little patronizing.

When the card was first handed to me, I was debating whether or not to sign it at all, since I had never even heard of this person before her husband died. It just didn’t seem like I was in any position to be offering sincere sympathy to this woman. But then, I read the card. The text of the card read like this…

Outside:

God Grant You Peace

In This Time Of Sorrow

Inside:

May you find comfort in warm memories of the beautiful life that has passed. May you find peace in the assurance that an even more beautiful life has begun for your loved one.

With Deepest Sympathy

Well that complicated things a bit. Not only do I feel conflicted about writing in the card to this woman I’ve never met, regarding a subject so painful as the death of a spouse, but now I’m at odds with the message of the card, which is little more than utilitarian religious rhetoric.

Should I add my piece, which would be devoid of religious connotations? If so, what would I say? And how do I say it without coming across too strongly as against the idea of finding comfort in god/prayer/a more beautiful life after this one? Will saying something explicitly opposite of the card’s symbolism effectively out me to my coworkers? Is that a bad thing?

All these thoughts ran through my head in a matter of seconds. And to help answer some of my questions, I tried to get a feel for what my coworkers thought. Being the newest addition to this office, it’s possible that they knew more about her through our coworker than I did. So I read the messages they had written. These are the comments of the coworkers who had written in the card before it landed on my desk:

You are in my thoughts and prayers at this difficult time.

My prayer[s] are with you and your family.

May the Lord Bless and guide you though this difficult time. You are in our prayers.

I am so sorry for your loss. Please know that I am thinking of you & praying for you!

Oh great! Not a single one that doesn’t fall in lockstep with the card’s religious overtones.

I put the card aside and continued to work for a little bit while thinking about what I would say if I wrote anything. I had decided that if I couldn’t come up with anything good to say, then I would simply pass the card onto the next person.

I eventually arrived at the point where I wanted to write in the card… partly because, as an atheist, I felt challenged by those who had essentially called us out in the wake of the Virginia Tech terrorist massacre by saying atheism had nothing offer… and partly because, as a human being, I felt some level of empathy for this woman, and knew I had something to offer no matter how small or how devoid of religious expression. The difference a few words can make may be profound, no matter how insignificant they seem at the time they are written.

So I tried to think of something that would remind her of the influence of her husband’s life, and call on the strength that she had within herself without looking to someone else’s myth for comfort, while acknowledging the hole that his untimely death certainly left behind. After thinking on it for a few minutes, I began to write in the card. And this was my addition:

Samantha,

I cannot offer personal comfort or platitudes of prayer. As a stranger to you, I can only sincerely hope that your husband has left you with a positive indelible impression upon your life and who you are today, an impression for which you are eternally grateful, endowing you with the strength to go on through his life, and leaving you with little to regret through his death. My best regards!

I was left wishing that I could know her reaction, for I hope it was a positive one. I would be remiss if I didn’t acknowledge my own hope that my words, which required true thoughtfulness and originality, garnered a deeper and more sentient response than the expected and canned promises of prayers left by others.

What would you have done? Would you have written in the card? What would you have said?

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