A Painful Task: The Condolence Letter, Posted September 8, 2025

Some years back, during  COVID, when it became clear that I would be working remotely for quite some time, I looked around for a project that could be completed at home. I knew that the Scott Family Collection housed a large number of letters, mostly personal, but some documenting business transactions, and these letters were a window into a lost time. One summer, I even opened the boxes and listed the contents, recording the writer, the intended recipient, and the date, hoping to get back to them.

Reading someone else’s mail is a guilty pleasure. You learn their innermost thoughts and find out about their daily lives. Some letters are very funny, full of anecdotes and foibles.

Mostly, this is an enjoyable task. Shared meals, trips taken, pleasant visits to relatives, all add to our understanding of a person’s life. I especially enjoyed reading about family gatherings to enjoy a grape harvest, or a Sunday afternoon ice cream party.

However, sometimes you come across a condolence letter. These letters are written for a specific purpose, that is, to acknowledge a death.

Today, when someone dies, we tend to just send a card, or a text, or even an email to convey our sympathy. You can even leave notes on the funeral home’s website, for all the world to see in perpetuity. But in the past, before all of these modern conveniences, people had to put pen to paper and arrange their thoughts on the page. A painful task.

Over time, I started to see patterns. The writer often asked to be excused for not writing sooner. They had only heard about the loss recently. Then they convey sympathy, expressing how much grief they feel individually and of course, share with the mourner.

Then they would write something about the deceased. How much they enjoyed their company. How promising they were, if young. For the loss of someone of advanced age, the comments might include how blessed a relief the end must have been when it finally came.

If the writer was a believer, they would often quote a Bible passage, sharing trust in God, comfort in their faith, assurances of how we would all see each other some day.

I was struck by this sort of absolute assurance when I worked at a divinity school. The dean said to a gathering of graduands that it was wonderful to be together, to spend time together, and that except for graduation this would be the last time we were all together before the Kingdom. It was a poignant moment, acknowledging the necessity of change and loss but hopeful and uplifting as well. I never forgot it.