By Jim Nichols

Here is an odd suggestion for you. Sometime soon read a series of published obituaries online or in a newspaper or magazine. Notice the words early in that article that describe what happened to the person of concern. That is, the person who is no longer alive—what occurred to him or her?

I have been following an interesting, published discussion regarding the word choices we use in this situation. The discussion began with one author criticizing the use of euphemisms to describe the end of life.

Euphemisms, of course, fill our lives. These are items, activities, places, types of occupations and others that we choose to soften or blunt to an extent by our word choice. This may be to use what we believe to be more polite language, something that is not so inflammatory or harsh. For example, the company is downsizing rather than firing workers. That politician is not lying but simply spinning the truth. Torture becomes enhanced interrogation, and slaughterhouse becomes a meat packing company.

In my quite unscientific counting of published obituary descriptions for the end of life, “passed away” or “passed on” are most common. It is this phrase that the author of the first contribution to this published discussion criticizes. 

This author (Rachel Mann) gently suggests that the use of this or other euphemisms for “died” suggests a lack of reality and honesty as to what has occurred. She notes this may be an indication of our fear of death and our inability to use real words to describe it. By not using the word “died,” we are avoiding accepting the human finality of the event. She quotes Voltaire: “One great use of words is to hide our thoughts.”

While “passed away” is most common, other options occur. Sometimes the issue is avoided completely; the person’s history is discussed with no real mention of the death. “Received her reward” brings a certain perspective. “Achieved his heavenly goal” appears. “Lost her battle with cancer” may speak truth but describes something questionable to me. While an extended illness may have aspects of a struggle, the inevitability of death, frankly, makes it a certainty. I do not believe individuals dying from cancer or any other prolonged illness should be described as “losers.” 

As I read obituaries and go about my chaplain work, I have pondered my own language, both verbally and in writing. What is in my mind as I try to communicate a death?

Some of the rebuttals to the first article about euphemisms are reasonable to me. Theologically, there are considerations to add here.

As believers, we must not miss the point that the demise of a human does not lead to oblivion, but to a transition. We certainly do not understand it humanly or theologically, but it is a fundamental aspect of our faith. Most functioning adults with any religious background at all have developed some (perhaps vague) view of death as a journey. They may see it as a bridge from this life to the next with people crossing being at various positions at any one time; perhaps they stop and linger here and there, maybe even take a few steps backward. Others may anticipate a ship at sea departing from one shore but destined for another (currently invisible) shore.

It is not my job as God’s person to clarify or correct others on this topic or others; my role is to listen and care.

Returning to my own word choices, I sense that I use the words “died” or “passed on” (or something similar) in different places at different times. What will simultaneously communicate accuracy and compassion best to these hearers? I also sense that my word choices vary if I am speaking of something that occurred yesterday compared to one in the past. Try out that kind of thinking and see if you agree with me.

When the medical team in the ICU discontinues CPR, I must help choose words for the waiting family that communicate truth (“she died”) but also offer compassion, care, and hope. 

The apostle Paul (I Corinthians 15) notes, “Listen, I will tell you a mystery! We will not all die, but we will all be changed in a moment, in the twinkling of an eye. . . “

 A mystery indeed.

Jim Nichols is a retired Abilene Christian University biology professor and current hospital chaplain