First Interview with Dr. Earl A. Grollman
Dr. Earl A. Grollman is a writer, lecturer, and rabbi whose books on coping with loss number over more than 750,000 copies in print. A pioneer in the field of crisis intervention, he appears on many national television programs and his writings have appeared in numerous publications. His volume When Someone You Love Has Alzheimers: The Caregiver's Journey was written with Professor Kenneth S. Kosik of Harvard Medical School.
Q: How did you become involved in the field of crisis intervention?
A: I didn't choose the subject of death; it chose me. I had never attended a funeral while I was growing up. During my training in seminary, death was discussed either theologically--is there life after death?; or homiletically--how to prepare a eulogy. Yet on the first day of my job as an assistant rabbi, I received a phone call from a family whose son had drowned. The first funeral I conducted was the first funeral that I had ever attended.
Then my closest friend died and his children did not ask, "Rabbi" or "Dr. Grollman"; they said, "Uncle Earl, what do we do?" I went to the library to find a book on explaining death to children; there wasn't a single volume to be found. It was a taboo subject. Somehow, many people believe that if death were not discussed, it would magically disappear. Now, of course, we understand that we cannot protect our youngsters from death, just as we cannot protect ourselves from life.
After that experience, I wrote one of the first books about children and death-this was before hospice had begun in the U.S. 500 copies were published; I purchased 490 of them. So few professionals were interested in the subject of death at that time. I was called "hamelach hamavet"-"the angel of death" by my colleagues. The standing joke was that if there were a convention of thanatologists, all we needed was to rent a telephone booth. Professionals had to be almost apologetic in their interest in the field. But thanks to such groups as HFA, we have learned the revolutionary concept that living is the leading cause of death. And we now recognize that grief comes in many forms, as a result of the inevitable losses of life. These issues make up what it means to be a human being.
Q: Tomorrow is the second anniversary of the terrorist attacks of September 11th; the bombing of the Alfred P. Murrah building in Oklahoma City took place on April 19th, 1995. You did counseling on-site at both tragedies. How would you contrast the events?
A: In both places I felt like I was in a time capsule. No words will ever capture the magnitude of the havoc. I can't compare the two tragedies. Each case is its own universe. Each shade of trauma is unique to each victim, each family, each witness.
I was often asked, "How could God allow this to happen?" I don't think God had anything to do with the disasters. This broke God's heart as it would any parent whose children had been brutalized. The evil is the price of freedom that God gives us. If we are free to choose to love, to share, to become unique human beings, then we also have to be free to hurt and damage and destroy. God's predicament is the predicament of every parent who has to grant freedom to children, and the granting of it had been misused and abused at Oklahoma City and September 11th.
For me, God was present in the darkest hours even as the fires raged. God was cleverly disguised as the men and women who formed human chains in their determination to save as many lives as possible. God masqueraded as the brave men and women of the fire and police departments who plunged into the towering inferno to rescue whomever they could. And God also bore a striking resemblance to those I saw working around the clock in the smoldering rubble oblivious to their personal safety.
Q: People must ask you how you can do this type of work. How can professionals prepare when summoned to a national disaster?
A: First, I must prepare to meet the challenges by confronting my own shock, my own grief, and my own care. What am I doing to keep myself healthy?
Ultimately, I believe what I'm sure other professionals believe: "We get more out of it than we give." Someone compared it to being a midwife. We didn't make the baby happen. We didn't make the labor begin. But to be there and facilitate it-it's a privilege. The Hebrew word for crisis is "mashber"-it also means "birth". It is precisely when I confront the crisis of mortality that I am able to confront death with the birth of fresh insights. I scrutinize my beliefs-deepening some convictions, overturning others with a whole new set of priorities. I begin to build a bridge across the abyss through all things that count the most-memory, family, friendship and love. I become more aware than ever before of what is significant and what is trivial. What more important reminders of the crises of life than the creation of fresh perceptiveness of the real purpose of existence?
Q: What advice do you have for professionals in assisting bereaved individuals in a crisis or disaster situation?
A: When I first went to Oklahoma City after the bombing of the Murrah Building, I quickly found that the people suffering there did not look to me for answers; they wanted someone to listen. I always like to remind myself that "you don't argue theology in a house of bereavement." In a crisis situation, or even when a loved one is nearing death in hospice care, the families may not be ready to talk with a clergy person. But they need to know that they have someone to talk with when they are ready.
I once received a call that four boys were missing in a boat off the coast of Massachusetts; one boy from my synagogue and three of his friends (all of whom were from different faith communities.) I went to the Rescue Command Center that night and waited with the families until the bodies were recovered. Later that week, I received calls from two of the boys' family members. When I asked if they had contacted their own clergy persons, both said no; they wanted to talk with me. I was glad to do so, but inquired why-and the answer both times was, "because you were there with us."
It is critical to establish a rapport and a relationship with any bereaved individuals with whom you are working, whether after a disaster or any kind of loss. And this relationship must be ongoing, continuing; grief does not end when the funeral is over.
Q: What are some tangible suggestions you have for clergy in establishing and maintaining these relationships, and of assuring survivors of ongoing support?
A: A common emotion that I hear in bereavement support groups is anger towards clergy; "our clergy person gave a lovely eulogy, and we've never heard from her since the funeral." Call the family a month after the death, just to check in. Allow them the opportunity to ventilate, and validate what they are feeling. Call on important holidays, and especially on the first anniversary of the death; these can be very lonely and difficult days. And even in this era of technology, don't rely on e-mail or even typing. I have terrible handwriting, but many people have told me how much a hand-written note has meant to them.
Q: You served as an educator for HFA's recent clergy education program in Florida. In the evaluations, a majority of participants listed Self-Care as an area in which they needed more information and support. Do you see this often in your work as a clergy educator?
A: I call this the issue of "professional hypocrisy"-dispensing counsel to others about leading a balanced life and ignoring this advice for ourselves. How often do we fall into the sad irony of caring for our clients while neglecting ourselves and those close to us? Our training as often autonomous decision-makers frequently translates into denying our own need for help. Research portrays a disturbing epidemiology of disaffection, emotional and physical fatigue, isolation, burnout, and even withdrawal from our respective professions.
Where does the renewal begin? The answer is deceptively simple. It begins with ourselves. In the words of theologian Abraham Heschel: "To heal a person, one must first become a person." To some of our ever-increasing demands we need to learn how to say "no"., Our advice to our clients should apply to ourselves as well-regular health care, exercise and adequate rest; guilt-free vacations, unencumbered by unread journals and leftover work; reconnecting with family, friends, and colleagues; time alone to reflect and meditate; and of paramount importance, a pursuit of interest beyond our parochial, personal life.
Q: Clergy members help others face difficult situations every day as professionals. What about when they themselves become the ones dealing with loss and grief in their own lives?
A: I recently read a story of a young rabbi who was shocked at how little support she received after the death of her mother. Because of our professional background, we are expected to "handle" whatever comes along. Yet when I meet with clergy members, like those in the HFA Clergy Education program, I find that they do not want to discuss clinical issues; they want to talk about real life. Clergy members and other professionals need to know that that they have a right to grieve-it is not a sign of weakness but a sign of strength. And they must also give themselves permission to not be in charge. I mentioned earlier about the death of my close friend. I was so angry on the day of his funeral; I did not want to be there to officiate, I wanted to be there to mourn! Later, when my mother died, I was able to clearly state that my role in her funeral would be as a grieving son, not as a rabbi.
I am pleased to find that clergy are now meeting and talking and helping each other. This can be a very lonely profession, and that kind of support can be invaluable.
Q: HFA's upcoming National Bereavement Teleconference will be focusing on Alzheimer's disease and loss. What are some of the spiritual issues that are the most challenging with this disease, and what are some steps caregivers can take to deal with them?
A: Alzheimer's is a different kind of death; many call it "the long farewell." Two very dear family members of mine recently died after long struggles with the disease, and watching their transformations was painful for everyone who loved them. Caregivers need ongoing opportunities to legitimate and validate their feelings, and to ventilate them in a safe place. Support groups can be extremely beneficial in these situations. And caregivers need "daily vacations"-listening to music , a short walk. These moments help remind them that they are not crazy, and may also disavow them of the martyrdom that can sometimes accompany caregiving.
Anger is an emotion that caregivers often feel and may not often admit. It is critical that clergy members recognize that anger-towards God, towards the world-is a normal feeling. Anger implies an emotional investment; we get most angry at the people we love the most. Anger at God shows that the connection is deep and powerful; and as I remind people, God can take it.
Above my desk is a statement by the French novelist Gustave Flaubert:
"Le meilleur de la vie ne se passe a dire
Il est trop tot, puis, il est trop tard."
"The better part of life is spent saying,
It's too early and then it's too late."
Editor's Note: Listed below are links to some resources with more information on the topics above.
HFA's Florida Hospice Clergy End-of-Life Education Enhancement Education Project Final Report
"Clergy to Clergy: Supporting Those Facing Illness, Grief, and Death", an audiotape series
