Speak No Ill of the Dead

In the wake of Rush Limbaugh's death, people of certain sensibilities cite the adage in the title as the explanation for remaining silent.  Some are no doubt silent because they don't have the gall to speak highly of someone who specialized in being obnoxious, recognizing the cognitive dissonance of lauding such a character while ostensibly rejecting the traits in themselves and in those to whom they serve as role models .  Others who experienced the acid burns of Limbaugh's caustic words feel paralyzed by the rush of emotions that surface when they think of Limbaugh.  They have much to say, but feel no freedom to say it because they can't go against the obligation to avoid speaking ill of the dead.  

As most of my readers know, Limbaugh had a long and lucrative career (he earned 85 million dollars in at least one year) in the broadcast world, first in radio.  His stints in radio were typically short, and he was fired from multiple radio jobs. Later he transitioned to TV, and gained fame when he worked for Fox News.  His manner was crass and bombastic.  His career took off after the Fairness Doctrine expired in 1987 (which required that all publicly aired opinions be balanced with air time for opposing opinions), and he became a darling of those with conservative political persuasions.  Unfettered by the earlier restraints on what could be legally flung into the airwaves, Limbaugh became increasingly radical and increasingly popular. 

Many Christians had already become deeply invested in Limbaugh's fear-based views and rhetoric (which sadly are too often stoked also in Christian circles*), and they followed him willingly as the radicalization took place.  He focused on grievance and served as a spokesman for all those who felt aggrieved by the circumstances of their lives, particularly those who felt wronged by "them."  "Them" included mainstream media, Democrats and other liberals, feminists, and minorities.  Those to be feared included some on the "them" list, but "Socialists" were added.  Limbaugh was unarguably a kingpin in fostering the dissension and division that serves as the most prominent feature in the current American political scene. David French wrote perhaps the most nuanced assessment of Limbaugh's influence here.

I've pondered the prohibitive injunction in the adage on occasions previous to Limbaugh's death, and often wondered where it came from, or if the "command" has any validity.  This time I actually did some minimal research and learned that the origins of the maxim are as ancient as the Greek civilization of Sparta.  A philosopher from there apparently first uttered these words in Greek.  Most significantly, I learned that there is no direct evidence in Scripture that the adage constitutes an obligation.  

Jesus certainly was speaking ill of the dead when he said in Luke 11:47 and 48 that the ancestors of those he was speaking to had killed the prophets.  In the context in which he said this, he was pronouncing woes on members of his audience, who were putting on a show of righteousness.  They were religious leaders.  Apparently they had built tombs as if to honor prophets, but Jesus points out the irony of this, since they were at the same time continuing in the tradition of their murderous forefathers.  Jesus does not mince words in drawing a straight line between the objectionable behavior of the forefathers and that of the Scribes and Pharisees in the audience.  In both timeframes, Jesus saw behavior that called for public denunciation. Although other parts of Scripture mention speaking ill of others in a negative light, Jesus' example nevertheless offers us guidance for how we speak of the dead.  

In the passage cited, Jesus was trying to reach the hearts of members of his audience.  It seems that in order to do that, he knew that it would be necessary for them to acknowledge their own sins.  Otherwise they had no need to accept what he offered them: a new life, full of meaning and hope.  Speaking ill of the dead was an attention-arresting way for Jesus to bring home the truth of the heart condition of his listeners. A desire to accomplish that same result in listeners may at times justify speaking ill of the dead in our time.

I don't believe, as some do, that prayers for a person after their death accomplish improvements in their fate. The good thing that is left to those who remain after a death is to turn to God in their bereavement.  A heart turned toward God in humility always invites exposure of the sin that lurks there.  In the presence of a loving, forgiving God, this is not a disastrous process because the remedy shows up right along with the crushing weight of the problem.  Whatever a person feels after Rush Limbaugh's death, the answer always is to turn to God with the emotion.

One of the articles I read after Limbaugh's death was written in 2009 and quoted a cleric who had officiated at many funerals.  In one particularly challenging case, he had heard nothing good from anyone about the deceased. He decided that the best way to handle the situation was to address it directly.  So he began by saying something this: 'Let's be honest, he could be a pretty cantankerous so-and-so.'  He reported that an almost palpable sense of relief swept over the audience at these words.  He interpreted the response as affirmation that being honest about the unpleasant realities associated with the life of a deceased person can be a step in the process of healing for those who have been wronged.  

I've seen such honesty demonstrated by others, and engaged in it myself at times.  I've been challenged for my own actions, and tried to learn from it.  I'm not sure that I've learned what my challengers believe was necessary:  Don't say anything bad about a person who has died.  Really?

In general, my words have been very mild--like saying privately "Life just got a lot simpler for _________________ [survivors]."  Publicly I have said something like "He wasn't perfect, but he was a good man."  Of course, the first phrase in the public expression is not strictly necessary, since everyone already knows this mildly-stated negative thing.  It may not be fair, since the person being spoken of can't defend himself.  It certainly is not socially expedient (largely because of the ingrained notion in the adage).  But to forbid saying any negative thing of the dead?  I don't think so.  Doing so can help others see you as a trustworthy person, since you're obviously not OK with maintaining pretenses.  If you go overboard with the bad report, you risk being seen as mean-spirited and vindictive instead of being trustworthy--and you may, in fact, be such.  This isn't OK either.  Here is an article written by someone who avoids falling into this trap on the occasion of Limbaugh's death, managing in the same article to point to an inspiring contrast instead.

I think the story of the cleric above illustrates perfectly why sometimes saying something negative about the dead is actually a way to introduce a healing element into the realm of possibility for those who have been wronged by a deceased person.  Picture with me a situation where a parent has repeatedly been an embarrassment to his children because of his adversarial and mean-spirited public behavior.  Acknowledging at least the difficulty that this person's behavior caused others could be enormously affirming to those who suffered in silence for decades.  Being seen is a powerful encouragement to anyone who has felt like their suffering was invisible for too long.  It could cast all those associated with the hurtful individual in an admirable light (look at what they became in spite of those formidable odds).  Beyond that, I believe that being truthful about even unpleasant realities is the only way we ourselves can learn something valuable from another's life.  

I've seen the hazard of pretending that bad things never happened.  This charade subjects its "players" to a lifetime of repeated avoidance maneuvers.  Otherwise, the pain comes flooding back.  It may surface in forbidding others to speak of anything related to the hurtful behavior or the one who inflicted it.  Staying away from such forbidden subjects then becomes the burden of everyone else who desires to maintain a good relationship with the one who was wronged.  This too is damaging behavior--not redemptive in any discernible way. 

One other prominent feature of Limbaugh's rhetoric which resonated with evangelicals was patriarchy. This article connects that thread of his ideas with James Dobson and Tim LaHaye.  I can think of other names I'd add to such a list.  The writer of the article sees patriarchy in a  toxic light.  I believe it can also be a benevolent force, but agree that it has sometimes not been practiced that way in Christian circles.  In Limbaugh's iteration of patriarchy, masculine toxicity apparently prevailed.  The environment he inhabited treated women as sex objects.  He married a succession of four women, punctuated by three divorces.  

Nothing I might think of to say about Rush Limbaugh is the final verdict about who he was.  I heard one defender say that he spoke recently of having a personal relationship with Jesus. I hope that is true, and I'm sure that other good things could well be said of him.  My goal is to say only what I believe to be true and which could potentially serve "for our learning."  I hope we gain resolve to avoid stoking fear, vilifying "others," being dishonest about a person's legacy, or promoting toxic masculinity.  These would be worthwhile reasons for reflection on Limbaugh's life and death.  

Being exhaustive would be impossible, and the effort would be exhausting.  I do know that there are no gaps in knowledge about Rush Limbaugh for the Final Judge of all the earth.  He is for sure not constrained by any obligation to "speak no ill of the dead." Even if we can't hope to get everything right, Rush Limbaugh will be rightly judged.  Whether or not we are OK with speaking ill of the dead or whether we learn anything at all in thinking about him, I hope we can all agree on that.  

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*I'm reading a wonderful book right now that brings home the idea that Christians often traffic in fear-based responses to life.  This tendency makes them ripe for exploitation by others who are not fearful primarily of the judgement of God, but fearful of things like loss of control over their own lives, loss of personal wealth,  loss of political power, loss of public favor, increased restrictions on behavior, increasingly limited choices, etc.  The book was written by someone who teaches at the same university where my brother Caleb has taught for many years--Messiah University in Mechanicsburg, PA.  Believe Me:  The Evangelical Road to Donald Trump by John Fea.  Fea is himself an evangelical and a historian.