A prize naff thing said by clergy:
When my father died, many years ago, the curate came around (at my wife's behest) to....something. Comfort? Counsel?
Neither happened.
Instead I got a short lecture on the Kubler-Ross stages of grief.
Gee, thanks.
I would have preferred a) sympathy, b) tell me about your father, c) how will the future look now.
In some cases it might do to talk about death as evil and a great intrusion on God's very good creation, but to pull this off one would need to be a pastoral genius.
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