Thank you for gathering today. I appreciate the words of Ms. Jones, Ms. Sweet, and Pastor Gigee. I appreciate the sight of you all, as my mother would. I’ve been told most sons wouldn’t speak at an event like this, but even as a boy my mother could not stop me from having the last word. When the Pearland Police told me the news, it was something to wrestle with, and will only haunt me in the years to come. But today, I will not lament. There was a man whose father died when he only 11. His mother died when he was 16. The man married, and had six children. Three of them he buried before the children were ten years of age. One child took his own life. Later, the man buried his wife.

He said, “In three words I can sum everything I’ve learned about life: It goes on.”

I want you to walk out of here feeling better than when you entered.

I will do three things: 1) Issue a warning, 2) share an extraordinary story you may not have heard, and 3) tell you about my mother’s life lesson to me. Also, please begin eating the peppermints that have been passed out.

After Cain slew Abel, he was confronted in Genesis 4:9…

“Where is Abel, your brother?”

And Cain retorted in a manner that twisted a noble sentiment of concern and care into a mockery. “Am I my brother’s keeper?”

Keeper: It’s a strong word, and one we may allow to alter our understanding of the rightly guided path for the worse. If we look to an earlier verse in the same chapter of Genesis, we find this line…

“And [Eve] again bare [Cain’s] brother Abel. And Abel was a keeper of sheep…”

The word is used to describe the relationship between a man as a master over animals, and Cain knew this when he chose his retort.

We usually conjure an image of a care-taker or responsible elder, to guide the decisions of another toward an honorable, self-fulfilling life. Sometimes, the word “Keeper” may make you feel that you need to be more responsible than you ever could be. But you can never master another person, as Abel did sheep. To those who may ask themselves: “Could I have stopped this?” You cannot watch over someone all hours of the day and night, you cannot know the meaning behind their every word. Unburden yourself. Do not be caught by Cain’s trickery.

A question came to mind Saturday: Why did she do this?

I would like to talk about Moses & the Wiseman, a story from another place and time. Please keep that in mind.

When Moses was young, there was a man in town regarded as wise. Moses wanted to be near this man, and learn his wisdom. He went to him, and asked to learn from him.

“No,” the Wiseman replied, “You will only ask questions when I tell you to do something.” But Moses begged, and the Wiseman relented.

“Only do as I say, and ask no questions about what I do or say,” demanded the Wiseman, and Moses consented. Together, they left the town and in a few days came to a river. Needing to cross the river to continue their journey, they enjoyed the services of a ferryman who shipped them from one side to the other. Upon landing on the other river-bank, the Wiseman raised his staff, then struck a hole in the ferry, sinking it.

Moses cried: “Why have you done this? This man feeds his family with that ferry.”

“Don’t question,” replied the Wiseman, and they continued on their journey until they came upon a tragic sight.

A small house in the countryside lay in ruins, smoldering. Only one wall was left standing, and a wailing widow watched her sons depart for bricks to use in rebuilding the standing wall. The Wiseman walked toward the standing wall, and with both hands knocked it over.

Moses cried: “Why have you done this? This woman’s home is razed to the ground, and the only remains of her husband’s creation, their home, is in crumbles because of you. Their sons have nothing to remember their father by.”

“Don’t question,” replied the Wiseman, and they continued on their journey until they reached a small village in which a young boy was playing in the street. He had a nasty smile, and took pleasure in tormenting lizards. As they passed the boy, the Wiseman raised his staff, then cracked the boy’s skull. He lay dead.

Moses cried: “Why have you done this? He was only a boy.”

“I will tell you the reasons for what I have done, but after this we cannot continue our journey. You questioned after I told you not to.” replied the Wiseman.

Moses stood anxiously, his ears open.

“After we crossed the river, a Tyrant with a large army marched in this direction. They camped at the riverbanks, waiting for a boat to seize and transport them. After many days, it never came and the Tyrant’s army ran out of food, then turned around and never conquered this land. At the Widow’s home, the boys were planning to rebuild the walls to their house, and never would have found the treasure their father had buried under the only standing wall had it not been knocked down. In the village street, there was a wicked boy who would bring shame and ruin to his family’s name. His family will not obtain that dishonor now.”

And the Wiseman left Moses.

Two thoughts can be taken from that tale. The first thought: The decisions to drown the ferry, knock down the last wall of a home, and slay a wicked boy were necessary. But those decisions couldn’t be made by the ferryman, the widow and her sons, or the boy’s family. If the decisions were easier, you would make them. When they are harder, they aren’t for you to make.

The second thought: In time, the outcome of the chain of events will be realized and seen by all – but only in time. The future cannot be known now. Seemingly horrendous events can yield positive results – but only in time.

My mother taught me the Golden Rule as a little boy. Treat others as you would like to be treated. This idea has been around for millennia, in different tongues and different places. A young Hebrew named Yeshua Bar-Yosef, more commonly known as Jesus, said it best when he said: “You shall love your neighbor as yourself.” I was to be fair to others, to help them when they struggle as I need help when struggling, to treat strangers with respect and deal honestly with everyone…to be kind.

My mother believed in commitments. She didn’t divorce a beast called my father.

When she came to my apartment with a big Dutch-apple pie and Oreos, I told her about my concern for health and nutrition, and how eating the pie wouldn’t help me fight cavities. Apples pies are amazingly unhealthy. The next time I saw my mother, she came in with another Dutch-apple pie.

“What did we talk about last time?” I asked her rhetorically.

“I know, but you like apple pie,” she said. I had to concede: Apple pies are amazingly delicious. That’s her commitment.

I’ve learned to honor commitments. A person is only as good as their given word. Mean what you say, and do what you mean. There was a kindness that only honesty can show. My mother spoke with the neighbors in the face of disagreements and long after. She chose as her profession a chance to give herself to children less fortunate than we will ever be. She would donate money to the Police and Firefighters, feeling that taxes to support those vital city services were insufficient. She believed in community, and raised me to be involved in my environment, not simply to be a spectator. She raised me to love my neighbor as myself.

There are saints among you - Persons who gave their time, their energy, their ears, and their heartfelt words to my mother; who broke bread with her; who laughed with her; who looked after her; who loved my mother as they loved themselves. Do not doubt yourself. You did all you could – you loved my mother as you loved yourself.

Illness overcame her, but I cannot allow one condition or one moment to define a lifetime of giving and appreciation. How’s that peppermint? Almost gone, I imagine. My mother’s life was chipped away in different places – like all of ours - and her body had been breaking down – like all of ours. Her mind deteriorated. She is no longer with us. I will not see her in her home again. You will not find her in the pews. And she will not be clocking into work. But what remains? Like the peppermint, you’re left with the sweet taste of life long after the body is gone. You’re left with the smiles and the joy she found in helping others.

Take joy in the fact that her torment is over, and remember it wasn’t your decision to make. From enduring friendships and family to the new person in your life this month or next year; honor her memory by loving one another.