Eric’s Funeral

March 1, 2001

Rabbi’s Words

Why are we here today? It may seem a silly question, and yet it is very important now for us to understand the purpose of this time. One may think that a funeral is supposed to help make things better, but that actually would not be the proper focus. In fact, Jewish tradition instructs us not to attempt to comfort the bereaved while their dead lie before them.

Instead, our purpose starts with making things worse. We will not attempt to pave over the road suddenly broken to pieces which lies before us. There is no salve for the wound in this moment, no plug for the hole in our hearts. Our tradition teaches us not to try to make it better, but at this time to do our best to "daloyay damay" to raise tears from the well of grief.

While we are sure, from both sides of the spiritual ancestry from which Eric was descended, that his soul is beyond pain and at play in the fields of the Lord, right now we give time and space to the pain of the living. We do not try to solve a problem without solution, we do not try to patch together pscyhes torn forever.

...in my experience a deep plunge into the waters of sorrow is the hopefulest way of getting through them in one's daily road of life again. No one can help another very much in these crises of life; but love and sympathy count for something. Thomas Huxley

So let us recall, together, Eric's goodness and grace, and let the tears well up from the depths.

First of all, Eric will always be an incredible gift from on high. Twelve years after Stacey's beauty and delight entered your lives, your miracle baby brought extra amazing grace, joy, love and laughter. From the time he was three, Eric started telling jokes and making everyone laugh. He was very funny, and a joy to watch while he played.

His creativity was plentiful. He loved his hot wheel cars, and would take a simple ruler to make a bridge for them. With his aunt vivian, he could pick out a present from the toy store, and without looking at the instructions, he could put it together. He learned from close observations of others, and excelled at bringing order to chaos, organizing his cars by category, neatly putting all the videos back in their-jackets and on the cart.

Eric loved books and learning and exploring the world. He was ready to have six friends over, to play with his companions, to take on the world more and more. He loved his computer and was so very, very smart.

We all know, though, that while keen intelligence is a special prize, a loving child is a treasure, and Eric was loving beyond all measure. His younger cousin Jeremy received lots of love from his best friend Eric, who shared everything he had with Jeremy, and who took care of Jeremy without jealousy. His big sister also received the bounty of his generous spirit, as well as her boyfriend Randy, who was Eric's best friend for giving him rides on his shoulders and gave Eric a glimpse of what it would be like to be tall and see the world from up there.

He took the time out of each day to let his mom and dad and everyone know how much he loved them. He'd wait until you'd almost left and then say wait, i almost forgot, and run and jump and give a big bear hug and lots of kisses.

Eric was, in a word, irreplaceable. We could try to understand, but there is no understanding. We could try to make sense of our loss, but it is nonsensical. We are all here because we know how precarious our hold on life is, and we know that this could have happened to any of us, and we are so sorry that this sorrow fell upon your household.

I'd like to talk to everyone but the immediate mourners for a moment. While our own pain, awkwardness and doubt often prompts us to try to say something, anything, to be of help, everyone is best served by restraint. As hard as it is, our tradition teaches us to quietly stand nearby, or to take someone's hand, or to give a hug, and to wait in silence, for silence is a fence around wisdom. At this moment of true powerlessness, our attempts to ameliorate a situation which cannot be made better, might only add to feeling a lack of control. By enabling mourners to begin, if they want, a conversation, we restore some power to them. By refraining from trying to answer questions which have no answers, which are quite truly rhetorical, we recognize that the questions are really cries, and that crying from the hole in one's heart is the only thing that gives hope for healing.

Greeting mourners with your presence, and without words, allows them the power to begin a conversation, or to keep quiet. Right now, there are no answers, there aren't even really any questions, all there is is absence. Eric's absence in this world.

The only response to Eric's absence is our presence, our faithfully being there. Tzarot rabim chatzi nechama, when many share tzurus, when many share troubles, that is halfway toward comfort. What we can do now, however, is to let Joan and Mark and Stacey and Tasia and Mary and Jimmy and Gus and Nick and Vivian and Jeremy know that no one is alone in this, not just this week, but next week, the week after, and the many days and weeks to come.

This week's Torah portion is called Teruma, which always reminds me of the word trauma, but in fact, means contribution. It details the gifts of the heart brought by the Israelites to build a temporary sanctuary for God while they travel through the wilderness.

Eric brought tremendous gifts of the heart to the temporary sanctuary of God we call his body. And just as the Israelites would put up the sanctuary for a while and then take it down and move on and encamp elsewhere, so Eric's spirit has moved on and encamped elsewhere. We trust that he rests in peace, we know that his memory will always bring blessings, we ask God to learn the holy scriptures with him and help him grow in greatness in the world beyond and to send the light of his soul to us to help guide us through the dark days ahead.

At this time, we seek the wisdom of silence in our own quiet reflections on the blessing and meaning of Eric’s life.