Read: Proverbs 25:11 & 20
A word fitly spoken is like apples of gold in a setting of silver. Like vinegar on a wound is one who sings songs to a heavy heart (Proverbs 25:11 & 20, NRSV).
Don’t get me wrong. I’m a big fan of vinegar. It makes glassware and windowpanes sparkle. And if you are willing to spring for the fancy balsamic stuff, it can revolutionize your salads.
But vinegar has its place, as our proverb points out, and that place is not on wounds.
So it is with our words. Some perfectly fine words are beautiful in one context and brutal in another. Who of us has not cringed upon hearing a well-meaning friend tell us that our recently departed loved one is “in a better place”? While technically true, it douses our already broken heart with vinegar. As one grieving woman once said, “I know I’ll see my mother again someday. But I miss her NOW.”
All of us struggle to find the right words for certain situations. Sometimes we might do well to remember that the ministry of presence may be the best medicine for a heavy heart. It takes courage just to show up, after all, and that alone may be the most eloquent expression of our love and support. That said, there are times when we must speak even when we are at a loss for words.
There are a lot of proverbs that speak to the importance of a word well-spoken. This testifies to the fact that desperate “word searches” predate computers by several millennia. Being able to find the right words for specific situations is a sure sign of wisdom in the book of Proverbs. Spouting ill-suited words is a sure symptom of folly.
So far, so obvious. What’s much less obvious is how we should acquire this knack for knowing what to say and when to say it. Some people just seem to have good instincts for this. But short of being jealous of them, is there anything we can do to cultivate this gift?
There’s probably no substitute for maturity. Yet, one of the qualities that we develop as we mature is empathy. What would happen if we were to mix, say, two parts empathy with one part patience? It might mean that when we ran into our recently bereaved neighbor we would first “stop before we blurt.” It doesn’t take long to pause and ask ourselves, “What part of what I’m feeling right now is my own discomfort?” If the answer is, “A lot!” then that split second is long enough to remind ourselves that it’s not about us. Then we might spend the next second or two imagining what our neighbor is feeling in that moment. What would you most need to hear in their situation? Maybe it’s simply, “I’m sorry.” It’s hard to go wrong with that.
So far we’ve got: good instincts and maturity (two parts empathy + one part patience). Let’s add experience to the mix.
I know someone who once attended a reception at which Queen Elizabeth II and Prince Philip were present. He said, “You always knew where they were in the room because of the laughter.” Few of us will ever get as much experience as the royal couple in finding just the right word to say—often to perfect strangers. And perhaps some of us would never get the knack for it even if we did. Still, their story reminds us that this is something we can work at—and presumably get better at with practice.
There is one more thing worth mentioning, and the beauty of it is that it can be applied even if we have lousy instincts, little maturity, and no experience. I’m talking about prayer. That, in the end, may be the best word—and the best strategy—for such situations.
Ponder: What’s the worst thing anyone has ever said to you in a painful or joyful situation? What’s the best thing? What can you learn from both?
Pray: Guard our lips, O God, and give us words that heal and help. Grant a special measure of wisdom to world leaders working and speaking for peace.