Orchard Ridge United Church of Christ

The Welcome and Homily offered  by Winton Boyd at the funeral of Daniel Myers on Monday, September 1.

WELCOME
Not a single person here could have anticipated nor expected this service so soon in Daniel’s life. It is not a service any of us would have chosen. Nothing shakes our universe as much as the death of a young person, the death of one’s child. Nothing prepares those of you who are teenagers or twenty somethings for this reality. Nothing about this seems right or fair.

Therefore to gather as we do today is nothing but an act of faith, a moment in our lives when we claim the protective shelter of God’s healing and grace filled love. In this place, and in this hour, we are free to pour out our grief, and to own our confusion, anger, fear, and bewilderment. What happened this week is not God’s will; it is not part of some master plan. What happened this week involved the combination of bad choices, bad luck, and tragedy. We are here not to project some superficial reason for this tragedy, but to affirm our faith and the fact just as God knows our pain, God also grieves the loss of both Daniel and his friends.

However, we are also here to celebrate Daniel’s life, and the goodness of his 22 years. Even though we know we will miss him, even though we know his life was shorter than we would have liked, we give thanks for his life and his presence in our life.

Finally, we come also to proclaim God’s word of hope that runs as a river through our souls, deeper than any human loss. We come to proclaim that whether we live or whether we die, we belong to God.

And so we remember the ancient words of Jesus, who said, “Come to me, all you that are weary and carrying heavy burdens, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you, and learn from me; for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy, and my burden is light.

HOMILY

Daniel Gregg Myers was born on June 23, 1986. He and his parents, Dave and Beth, and big brother Chris – 4 years his senior, lived on Westbrook Avenue all of Dan’s life. He attended Huegel Elementary school, Toki Middle School and Memorial High School before entering the UW’s School of Music in piano performance. He was a Cub Scout, a black belt in Tae-Kwon-Do, a member of the Memorial Forensics Team, a member of our church’s confirmation program, handbell choir, Tru Function rock band, mission trips and was a frequent site here at our piano for Sunday worship, weddings, parties, recitals, and other special concerts. He was, in fact, one of the first players to “test” out our new grand piano when we purchased it while Daniel was in high school. He participated in both WYSO and Memorial’s orchestras, as well as drama. In addition, several neighbors felt privileged to be recipients of free concerts as they listened to Dan practice with the windows open in the family home. After completing his degree in piano performance, Dan had just moved back home in anticipation of saving money for graduate school – possibly Southern California.

While it seems strange and even painful to say, one of the reasons we gather today is to celebrate Daniel’s life. He died long before the promise of his incredible skill, intelligence and wit were fulfilled. At the heart of our grief is the recognition that we will never know the full potential of this young man – as a piano player, as a son, brother, nephew and friend, and most of all, as a human being. We ache with the sadness of that void; as well as the fear that it could happen to us.

But, as we remember, we celebrate the life that we did know.
• We celebrate this gifted & intelligent younger brother, who could do Chris’ 3rd grade math problems as fast if not faster than Chris.
• We celebrate the passion and talent of a boy of 5 who begged to play piano, but was forced to wait until he was six; who then played Bach a year later; and at 12 years old knew he wanted focus his life around piano playing.
• We celebrate the growing young adult who donned fake dredlocks while playing in church, who loved “hero quest” role playing games and Gen Con conventions; who tortured his brother with both his wit and his patience, including saving Halloween chocolates all the way to Christmas; who loved drama – especially American Players Theater – whether just watching or playing a southern bigot as he did in “To Kill A Mockingbird” at Memorial.

We celebrate a young man who could be very generous – with his time and his energy. Not only did he offer his music for almost any occasion, he was also generous with kindness.

• One of our adult mission trip leaders remembers getting thank you notes from Dan after each trip.

• An old friend of his told a touching story on Facebook, commenting that Dan was, “A brilliant guy, always looking to inject fun into any situation while always remaining committed to bettering his work and his art…My sophomore year of high school in study hall, he very persistently convinced me to join him in auditioning for the fall play. He got in to the play, of course, for being the hilariously funny guy that he was. I didn’t. My audition sucked big time. While I was ready to give it up and put my humiliation behind me, he talked me through it and talked me back into acting. So, when the opportunity arose to try forensics (again), I took it. In forensics, found many deep relationships and experiences that I would never have encountered, had he not taken me under his wing. I owe Dan my life as it is today.

Even as we celebrate, we grieve. We cry. We voice our anger. Many of us eacho the Psalmist who said, “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me? Why are you so far from helping me, from the words of my groaning? O my God, I cry by day, but you do not answer; and by night, but find no rest.”

I think it is appropriate and right that the family chose ancient Scripture passages that voiced anguish, confusion, anger, and hope. It is right to declare in the loudest terms possible that the pain is unbearable and mystery unfathomable. We grieve so many things.
• As Chris said yesterday, we grieve the lost opportunity to “brag on” Daniel, to watch his growth and development not just as a pianist but as a human being.
• We grieve that you, Dave and Beth, have been robbed of the chance to grow into adulthood and adult friendship your second born.
• We grieve with you, Beth and Chris, that should you have children, there will be no “Uncle Dan” to hang out with, learn from, or listen to.

It would be wrong to say Daniel was perfect, to suggest he was always as kind as his mother would like, or that his manners and his housekeeping – were, as the family like to say in their home, “fit for the queen.” If we are honest, we know there were times as family or friends that we missed opportunities to connect with or enjoy Daniel, and he with us. We know that he, like all of us, made bad choices. We are not here to make him into something he wasn’t, but to acknowledge the gift that he was in our lives.

What stands out for me as one of the greatest losses is that he was a young man with passion.
• When I asked his parents about his early years of piano, they pointed out that the early years of practice were not practice, but performance. When he was just six, Beth would put all the stuffed animals on the couch so Dan could “perform” for them. When the “concert” was over, the animals did what any appreciative audience would do – the “lept” for joy all over the room.
• Apparently, his passion for music had come forward at an even earlier age. Dave and Beth, wise parents, realized that unlike Chris, food was not a motivating factor for Daniel. Therefore, his reward for a successful trip to the toilet while potty training was a chance to listen to one of Dave’s 45 records.

This passion gave him focus. For all the 10 years I knew Daniel – it was obvious that his music was at the core of his life and it was something he dedicated countless hours to perfecting. His work ethic served him well not only with his piano – but with the violin, with his school work, Tae Kwon Do, and even on church mission trips.

We gather as a community. When I asked Chris’ wife Beth about her early memories of Daniel, she shared a beautiful story about driving up to the family house for the first time(when he was 15), getting out of the car and hearing music resounding throughout the neighborhood. As she walked to the Myers’ house, she realized the music was indeed coming from Chris’ family – gathered around Daniel at the piano, singing together with great gusto Simon and Garfunkel’s “Kodachrome.” You may remember some of those lyrics, that the Kodachrome’s – “They give us those nice bright colors, They give us the greens of summers, Makes you think all the world’s a sunny day, oh yeah.”

I think the “Kodachrome” is a good metaphor for the power of love and community in our lives. It is clear to all who know the Myers family that their love, their respect, their laughter and humor and appreciation of each other is a source of brightness, color, joy and delight to them and others around them.

Their witness as a family is a reminder that part of the reason we gather together in a difficult time like this is to be a community – to be the people of God – to bring out the color and brightness and hope and joy for each other. We gather mindful that not only is grief difficult to face alone, but also that our lives are enriched and strengthened as we reach out to others. We gather to support one another, to underscore and remind ourselves of how precious life is. We come away from a service such as this and we are compelled to turn to those nearest us to say – in whatever way we do – I love you and I won’t take the preciousness of life for granted. Such acts of tenderness won’t take away pain and confusion; but they also won’t give the pain the last word.

And so, in the end, we gather to proclaim God’s word of hope and promise of resurrection.

As we celebrate, and acknowledge our loss — we also gather today as an act of hope. We trust that Daniel is with God – and that the homecoming with God is good and full of grace. We trust that Daniel is received in joy, forgiveness, love, and peace. Even with our questions, our anger, our confusion, and our fears; we gather this afternoon to proclaim that this life is not our final resting-place, and we live in confidence that one day we will be reunited with Dan in spirit and in truth and in love.

Until that day, we are comforted by what the book of Hebrews calls the “ancient cloud of witnesses” that surround us in times of uncertainty, struggle and confusion. We gather mindful that no heart was broken more last Wednesday morning than the heart of God, who offers us life and suffers with us in pain in death.

And so, we trust the ancients who remind us “those who wait for the Lord shall renew their strength, they shall mount up with wings like eagles, they shall run and not be weary, they shall walk and not faint.”