Iranian Culture Boot Camp: Funeral Customs in Iran & How to Give Condolences in Persian

Believe it or not, this post has been sitting in my drafts folder for over 5 years now. For one reason or another, I kept putting off writing it. I mean, the topic is such a downer. “Death” as related to Persian insults and expressions of affection is amusing, but who wants to think about it in the literal sense? In 2015, a few months after I came to Iran, my paternal grandmother, the matriarch of the Fallahi clan, passed away. After experiencing a traditional ceremony in our village, I once again opened the file aptly named “funeral” to note a few things before quietly tucking it away. Too soon. That brings us to today when I finally decided it would make a good post for the Boot Camp series. Somber, yes. But useful (though I sincerely wish you never have to refer to it). So here are more details than you ever wanted to know about [Islamic] funeral customs in Iran, how to give condolences in Persian, and a few of my own observations on some cultural differences. 

(I’ve included a free printable handout at the end with the vocab and phrases from this post- including all the Persian spelling not written in the post itself- conveniently listed together for easy reference. Don’t miss it!)

Funeral customs in Iran: the ceremony

I had been to funerals (marâsem-e khatm) before in the US, either for Americans or Iranians, but the first funeral I ever attended in Iran happened to be my grandmother’s. I received the phone call in the evening just before I was headed in to teach a class, and by the next morning, my relatives had flown in from abroad, and we set out for the village. 

In Islam, the burial should take place as soon as possible. First, the body is washed, either at home or at a mordeshu khune, literally, “a corpse washing house.” (The Persian insult mordeshuresh-o bebaran comes from here.) A mordeshu (corpse washer) or family members of the same gender wash the body with soap and water and then wrap the body in a white, cotton shroud called a kafan. The idea here is that you’re born naked into this world and leave it covered only in a simple cloth.

After this, the body is placed in a tâbut (coffin) for the tashi jenâzeh (lit., accompanying corpse), the funeral procession in which friends and family carry [“accompany”] the body to the final resting place, the cemetery (ghabrestân). Men usually carry the coffin, and fellow mourners follow, reciting lâ ilâ ilallah, an Arabic phrase meaning “there is no God but God.” If the deceased is a woman, it should be a mahram (kin such as a son, husband, brother, son-in-law, etc.) who carries her. This clip from the old comedy Shish o Besh gives an idea of what this looks like. (Although I should mention that the guy leading the chants was a con artist crashing the procession. You get the idea nonetheless.)

The burial ceremony is known as marâsem-e khâksepâri. Sepâri comes from the verb sepordan (“to entrust”), so in essence, you are entrusting the body to the dirt. Muslims bury the body (or “plant” the body, as my little niece says, and I think we should all adopt this new verb) without a coffin, so the body lies on the dirt. One or two men usually go into the grave pit to position the deceased leaning on the right side of the body so that it faces ghebleh, the direction of Mecca. Typically, a mullah then leads the prayers, after which mourners head to a mosque where they continue their praying. Depending on the financial situation of the family, lunch or dinner is also served either in the mosque or a restaurant. This first night that the deceased has been buried and is alone is called shab-e gharib.

Important days after a funeral in Iran

A few other ceremonies take place on the 3rd (sevom), 7th (haftom), and 40th (chehelom) days after the funeral. Often times if someone can’t make it to the main funeral on the first day, they try to make it on one of these other important days. The first year anniversary, or sâl, also marks an important day.

Traditional sweets of an Iranian funeral

Halvâ (a sweet paste made with oil, flour, rosewater, and saffron) and dates (often stuffed with walnuts) are served at funerals. Before or after you eat, you are supposed to say a prayer for the deceased. This prayer is a verse from the Quran called fâteheh. Family members also make halvâ every year on the anniversary. You may remember the idiom bu-ye halvâsh miyâd, which has its roots in this custom of Iranian funerals. 

Good things to know 

Any time Iranians visit someone at the cemetery (sar-e khâk raftan), they tap or touch the headstone with their fingers or a small rock and say a fâteheh. The concept behind touching the headstone is so that the deceased becomes aware that someone is there to visit them. A particularly auspicious time to go to the cemetery is on Thursday evenings (shab-e jomeh), which is also when kheyrât may be distributed on the streets.

If you’re attending a funeral ceremony in Iran, it’s respectful to bring white flowers (or have them delivered). 

Tradition holds that after a funeral, mourners (azâ dâr) continue to wear black and not do anything beauty related such as shave, color their hair, wear make-up, etc. out of respect. Of course, like everything else nowadays, people have work and commitments, so they may not adhere to these customs quite as strictly. After the 40th day has passed (although this depends on the person- it could be longer in some cases), a close friend or family member comes to “take the mourner out of mourning.” Many years ago, for instance, my aunt’s husband passed away, and she continued to wear black for some time. After the 40th day, my mom brought her out of mourning by bringing her colorful clothes and helping her color her hair, etc.

Nowadays in Iran, you’ll also see large banners hanging outside the family’s house/apartment/workplace which offer condolences and mention who has passed. It’s usually family, friends, co-workers, or other residents of the apartment building who chip in and buy these to show their respect.

Observations of a hyphenated Iranian on the differences between funerals in Iran and the US

As I mentioned before, my grandmother’s was the first funeral I had ever attended in Iran, and there were a couple of things that surprised me. For starters, I was a little disturbed by the wailing. On the one hand, it’s a good thing because it releases emotions. But I find Americans to be quieter and more composed during funerals. They tend to cry in a more silent manner whereas the loud sobbing in Iran was unfamiliar for me and made me feel rather uneasy.

Random observation #2 is related to a Persian idiom/insult which I’m sure you’re familiar with. We were at the cemetery during the ceremony of the 3rd day, which also happened to be the funeral of someone else in the village. As we walked over to give our condolences, I noticed one relative picking up handfuls of dirt and kind of putting it on the head of a fellow mourner. I couldn’t help but stare in awe, wondering how that was in any way consolatory. A few days later, I was in class with one of my students who is a psychiatrist. He asked how my family was doing since the funeral, and I told him about this one particular scene I had witnessed. I told him that I knew that Persian insults and phrases like khâk bar sar or che khâki be saram berizam came from this, but that I didn’t think they actually did this. After quietly listening to me go on and on about how the American in me was shocked, SHOCKED I tell you, he matter-of-factly explained that this actually was a way to console someone in Iranian culture. There’s something about the quality of the dirt that’s supposed to calm them, and it’s symbolic of saying “it should have been me who was buried/what will I do now without you?” I was surprised by all of this, but he just chuckled and said he was more surprised by my surprised reaction. And that, my friends, was a HUGE lesson in cultural understanding and perspective for me.

Another random observation is that you have to walk on the headstones in many cemeteries in Iran. Case in point, the cemetery where my maternal grandmother has been laid to rest. It’s virtually impossible not to walk on a headstone, which I always feel weird about because I feel it’s disrespectful, but, alas, it’s perfectly normal here.

How to give condolences in Persian

So what do you say to someone who has just had a loved one pass?

تسلیت میگم

tasliat migam

Meaning: My condolences

A more formal, respectful way to say this is tasliat arz mikonam. You can also follow this phrase up by saying:

غم آخرت باشه 

gham-e âkharet bâshe

Meaning: [I hope] this is your last sorrow/grief.

…which you can also follow up by saying:

انشالله / امیدوارم تو شادیها ببینمت

inshâllâh / omidvâram tu shâdi-hâ bebinamet

Meaning: I hope to see you in times of happiness.

In this clip from Shahgoosh, two family friends are giving their condolences. Notice how they mix and match these phrases (transliteration below). 

1- Milâd jân, to-i? Tasliat arz mikonam pesaram. Omidvâram gham-e âkharet bâshe.

(Milad, is that you? My condolences, my son. I hope this is your last sorrow.

2- Tasliat arz mikonam. Inshâllah tu shâdi-hâ bebinimet. Gham-e âkharet bâshe.

(My condolences. I hope we see you in happier times. May it be your last sorrow.)

(If you’re interested, it might be worth watching the entire funeral scene to get a feel for it. It’s about the last 10 minutes of the second episode.)

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When you can’t be there for a friend who has lost someone, you can tell them:

من را در غم خودت شریک بدان

Man-o dar gham-e khodet sharik bedun

Meaning: Literally, Consider me a partner in your time of sorrow. (I share your grief in this time of sorrow.)

If a parent has passed, Iranians will say that they pray that the “shadow of your mother/father is always over you.” So if the mother has passed, they hope the shadow of your father stays, and vice versa. The phrase goes like this:

انشالله / امیدوارم همیشه سایه ی پدر/ مادر بالا سرت باشه

inshâllâh / omidvâram hamishe sâye-ye pedar/mâdar bâlâ saret bâshe

When speaking of the transitioned

Whenever you speak of someone who fowt karde (has passed away), you add khodâ biâmorz or khodâ rahmatesh kone, before his/her name. This is like the English “may he/she rest in peace” or “God rest his/her soul.” For example, “Khodâ biâmorz / khodâ rahmatesh kone, my uncle, Dâei Joon, once ran a red light, and when we told him, he brushed it off, saying, ‘Meh, it was more like pink.’” 

Another way to phrase this is marhum (late), as in “Marhum Dâei Joon (or Dâei Joon marhum) once ran a red light…”.

Nuance: There’s also the phrase khodâ bâbât-o biâmorze (God bless your father), which can also be used to mean that you are being naive or that something is impossible or far-fetched, similar to the English “give me a break!”

In more formal relationships, when someone tells you khodâ biâmorze about a loved one, you can respond khodâ raftegân-e shomâ-ro ham biâmorze (May God rest the soul of your passed ones, too).

Maybe you’ve just met someone and they don’t know that a loved one of yours has passed away. A nice way to mention it is to say: 

عمرش را داد به شما

omresh-o dâd be shomâ

Meaning: He/she has given his/her life to you. 

In this clip from the movie Rokhe Divâneh (Crazy Rook), the narrator is introducing his parents, saying that his mother is a retired teacher and his father, a cutler, got leukemia 15 years ago and omresh-o dâd be shomâ. 

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Generally, any time you speak of the deceased, Iranians say the following phrases (separately or together):

روحش شاد

روانش شاد

ruhesh shâd (ruh is Arabic)

ravânesh shâd (ravân is Persian)

Meaning: May their soul be happy

یادش گرامی

yâdesh gerâmi

Meaning: May their memory be blessed

نور به قبرش بباره

nur be ghabresh bebâreh

Meaning: May light shine down upon their grave

Questions?

Any questions about the funeral customs in Iran or how to use any of the related phrases? How does the ceremony in Iran compare to your country?

Also, don’t forget to download the PDF of the vocab and phrases from this post below!

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