Eulogy for Jake
Abraham Joshua Heschel wrote that there are three ways to mourn: to weep, to be silent, and to sing. Today and for weeks, and months, and years to come, the family and friends of Jake will do all three. Now, here, some of us are weeping and some of us are silent. Our tears are tears of sorrow, and our silence is the silence of reverence as we bid Jake a peaceful journey into eternity. To weep, to be silent and to sing. These three responses, entwined together like a twisted candle, are appropriate responses for the young man we honor today, and each strand of wick helps us sort out the complex feeling that have come upon us with our loss.
First the weeping. We weep because we shall miss Jake and what we shall miss most is a young man who did not speak harshly of others or to others except when they really deserved it, a young man who relished intellectual banter with friends, and one who reveled in toe to toe debate with teachers. We weep for the loss of a young man who had the indomitable spirit of a Ulysses, and the courage of a David. We weep because we shall miss someone who loved the challenge of learning and the joy that comes with discovery. We shall miss one whose ideas and spirit caused him to champion the right of all people to think independently and speak out for a world free from superstition. And also, we weep because we shall miss the light in his eyes whenever someone he liked walked into the room, and that beautiful, sonorous voice that greeted you with sincere affection. For the loss of his physical presence among us, there is weeping.
And there is silence. There is the silence that comes as each of us stands questioning the mysteries and the insanities of life that we call illness, disability, and death. The path Jake walked for his all too brief life was that of an independent fighter whose unconquerable spirit would not allow him to wince in the "clutches of circumstances" nor allow him to cry out in rage. So our silence is a silence of awe and respect because he walked his path with fortitude, resolve, and integrity, modeling for us a strength that made him heroic and a model for how one confronts the irrationality of life-threatening illness. And I will tell you that Jake was strengthened by his loving parents, and loving family, loving friends, and a medical team who attended to him and showered hm with affection. All the blessings, well wishes, and love offered by his family and friends also stand in humble silence as a tribute to him.
And finally, there is song. The song we sing today is a song of thanks for Jake Wetchler’s life, for the memories we have of that life, and for the blessing that his life brought each of us. We sing of the enormous potential and enthusiasm that exuded from him, and of that powerful handshake or hug when he said hello. We sing of a young man who avoided small talk in favor of lofty philosophical discussions, and we sing of a young man who loved his music and who was always looking to expand his talents. We sing of a young man who delighted in physical activity, and in the wonder of what the human body could accomplish. We sing of a young man who loved deeply and was grateful for the tireless support of those around him.
Whenever I lose someone I love, I look for one moment in my relationship that I can conjure up immediately that will bring a smile to my face. For me, the moment I have selected to conjure up whenever I will think of Jake is that moment when he first confronted me in my classroom with a response that was so astute that I immediately recognized that I may have a student here who was every bit as smart as I was. Jake’s responses were always incisive and knowledgeable, and I also found myself calling on him not just because I liked the sound of his voice, but because of the look of honest consideration and reflection on his face that told me he was really thinking about something I might have said. Sometimes we disagreed, and sometimes I heard myself saying, “can we disagree passionately and still remain friends?” He always said, “yes” and so out of that mutual respect, we became friends, and more than that, in my heart, Jake became one of my kids. Not every student who comes into my classroom comes into my heart. Jake was one of the few.
I am grateful for the blessings that his presence in my life brought me. Jake told me that he was honored to have me as a friend, and wrote in a small book he gave me, “Thanks to you, these past four years have been a mind-altering experience. The way in which you conduct your classes has made all the difference in how I intend to conduct my life.” He was grateful to me, and I was grateful to him because he made me a better teacher, and I knew that Jake would be in my face if I were not on my best game. To be truthful, I was selfish. It was I who wanted Jake in my life so I might be assured that as I got older, there would be ongoing interesting, intellectual challenges and exchanges. Jake was truly unique, and I simply wanted the pleasure of watching him grow into the incredible man I knew he would become.
And so I invite you to think of Jake, your relationship with him, and your memories of him. I invite you, to select the happiest memory, and let this one vivid recollection be the first one that is conjured up whenever you think of him. The smile that will come to your face when you see Jake, will be a fitting memorial to his life.
With love,
Len Berman
October 15, 2009
First the weeping. We weep because we shall miss Jake and what we shall miss most is a young man who did not speak harshly of others or to others except when they really deserved it, a young man who relished intellectual banter with friends, and one who reveled in toe to toe debate with teachers. We weep for the loss of a young man who had the indomitable spirit of a Ulysses, and the courage of a David. We weep because we shall miss someone who loved the challenge of learning and the joy that comes with discovery. We shall miss one whose ideas and spirit caused him to champion the right of all people to think independently and speak out for a world free from superstition. And also, we weep because we shall miss the light in his eyes whenever someone he liked walked into the room, and that beautiful, sonorous voice that greeted you with sincere affection. For the loss of his physical presence among us, there is weeping.
And there is silence. There is the silence that comes as each of us stands questioning the mysteries and the insanities of life that we call illness, disability, and death. The path Jake walked for his all too brief life was that of an independent fighter whose unconquerable spirit would not allow him to wince in the "clutches of circumstances" nor allow him to cry out in rage. So our silence is a silence of awe and respect because he walked his path with fortitude, resolve, and integrity, modeling for us a strength that made him heroic and a model for how one confronts the irrationality of life-threatening illness. And I will tell you that Jake was strengthened by his loving parents, and loving family, loving friends, and a medical team who attended to him and showered hm with affection. All the blessings, well wishes, and love offered by his family and friends also stand in humble silence as a tribute to him.
And finally, there is song. The song we sing today is a song of thanks for Jake Wetchler’s life, for the memories we have of that life, and for the blessing that his life brought each of us. We sing of the enormous potential and enthusiasm that exuded from him, and of that powerful handshake or hug when he said hello. We sing of a young man who avoided small talk in favor of lofty philosophical discussions, and we sing of a young man who loved his music and who was always looking to expand his talents. We sing of a young man who delighted in physical activity, and in the wonder of what the human body could accomplish. We sing of a young man who loved deeply and was grateful for the tireless support of those around him.
Whenever I lose someone I love, I look for one moment in my relationship that I can conjure up immediately that will bring a smile to my face. For me, the moment I have selected to conjure up whenever I will think of Jake is that moment when he first confronted me in my classroom with a response that was so astute that I immediately recognized that I may have a student here who was every bit as smart as I was. Jake’s responses were always incisive and knowledgeable, and I also found myself calling on him not just because I liked the sound of his voice, but because of the look of honest consideration and reflection on his face that told me he was really thinking about something I might have said. Sometimes we disagreed, and sometimes I heard myself saying, “can we disagree passionately and still remain friends?” He always said, “yes” and so out of that mutual respect, we became friends, and more than that, in my heart, Jake became one of my kids. Not every student who comes into my classroom comes into my heart. Jake was one of the few.
I am grateful for the blessings that his presence in my life brought me. Jake told me that he was honored to have me as a friend, and wrote in a small book he gave me, “Thanks to you, these past four years have been a mind-altering experience. The way in which you conduct your classes has made all the difference in how I intend to conduct my life.” He was grateful to me, and I was grateful to him because he made me a better teacher, and I knew that Jake would be in my face if I were not on my best game. To be truthful, I was selfish. It was I who wanted Jake in my life so I might be assured that as I got older, there would be ongoing interesting, intellectual challenges and exchanges. Jake was truly unique, and I simply wanted the pleasure of watching him grow into the incredible man I knew he would become.
And so I invite you to think of Jake, your relationship with him, and your memories of him. I invite you, to select the happiest memory, and let this one vivid recollection be the first one that is conjured up whenever you think of him. The smile that will come to your face when you see Jake, will be a fitting memorial to his life.
With love,
Len Berman
October 15, 2009