Current mood:

thankful

Michael Andrew Patterson's Funeral
Last night I attended and took part in Mike's funeral, along with just about every other person I know in San Diego. We gathered by the ocean in Ocean Beach. Most of our English-speaking congregation was there, as were all of Mike's friends from Ocean Beach.

Blankets were laid out and we sat as Pastors John, Kathy, and Derron officiated the service. Behind them stood on a tall easel a framed picture of Mike holding up a tray filled with loaves of bread, presumably before a feeding of the hungry on Tuesday nights at Bread of Life. I really wish I had a copy of the picture. It is moving not only for Mike's witness in feeding the hungry, but also because it reminds us of how he loved those around him who society rejects, ultimately giving witness to the life of the Jesus the Son and so therefore pointing to the Father.

The service was formal, appropriate, and tear-filled, yet casual, joyous, and warm. The sun was setting through the clouds against the ocean, and rays of light shone through the clouds in a way that always makes me think to myself, "that's the glory of God!"

Pastor John asked anybody who wanted to say a word to come foward. Many of Mike's friends from OB came forward and spoke briefly, yet profoundly, of Mike's impact on them in his love. Two eulogies stood out for me, though.

Mike Valentine stood up and and remembered Mike's passion and stubbornness, while admitting to his own similar orneriness. They had a recent strong disagreement over something, but Mike Valentine told how he made sure that they told each other that they loved each other, witnessing to the faithfulness in reconciliation. Mike Valentine, a former corrections officer, told of Mike Patterson's surprise in his own befriending of this former prison guard, as Mike Patterson himself has spent ten of the last fifteen years in prison. And Mike Valentine, in return, never thought he'd have so many good friends who were ex-cons.

Mike Patterson's caretaker Liz then stood up and shared. She told us that in his suffering, he told every one of us who visited him, "I love you": it could have been verbally, it could have been with a hug, or it could have been with a look; in the end, that's all Mike wanted us to know.

After a reading of Scripture, prayer, and a short sermon from John, we all gathered to eat and to feed each other. Mike's friends who came off the streets were fed and we fellowshipped with them; in so doing, it was a continuation of Mike's witness to the Kingdom of God in the work of mercy of feeding the hungry.

That's how we remembered him, and that's how we will continue to remember him.

In Pastor John's post yesterday, he quoted the "liturgy for the dead" as given in the Book of Common Prayer:

"The liturgy for the dead is an Easter liturgy. It finds all its meaning in the resurrection. Because Jesus was raised from the dead, we, too, shall be raised.

The liturgy, therefore, is characterized by joy, in the certainty that 'neither death, nor life, nor angels, nor principalities, nor things present, nor things to come, nor powers, nor height, nor depth, nor anythig else in all creation, will be able us from the love of God in Christ Jesus our Lord.'

This joy, however, does not make human grief unchristian. The very love we have for each other in Christ brings deep sorrow when we are parted by death. Jesus himself wept at the grave of his friend. So, while we rejoice that one we love has entered into the nearer presence of our Lord, we sorrow in sympathy with those who mourn."