[ORGAN MUSIC]
Blessings and comfort.
We have come bidden by love,
by honor, even with gratitude,
but we are here
against our will.
There is nothing that would want
us to gather for Wajih's death.
We would so much
rather be together
to celebrate all that
was awaiting him.
But love bids us be together.
And prayer will be our strength.
And it is, from the many ways
that in his all-too-short years
he lived, that we find
and take inspiration.
I want to share with you
a poem by Naomi Nye, which
has come over time to
mean so much to me.
But as I listened
to Wajih's family
speak about things that gave him
the most joy, the things that
tickled him, the things
that surprised them to hear,
from people who loved him
that they didn't even know,
this poem just
kept coming to me.
I think you'll
recognize it instantly.
It's entitled, "Kindness."
"Before you know what kindness
really is you must lose things,
feel the future dissolve
in a moment like salt
in a weakened broth.
What you held in your hand,
what you counted and carefully
saved, all this
must go so you can
know how desolate
the landscape can
be between the
regions of kindness.
Before you know kindness as
the deepest thing inside,
you must know sorrow as
the other deepest thing.
You must wake up with sorrow.
You must speak to it
till your voice catches
the thread of all
sorrows, and you finally
see the size of the cloth.
Then it is only kindness
that make sense anymore,
only kindness that
ties your shoes
and sends you out into the day
to mail letters and purchase
bread, only kindness
that raises its head
from the crowd of
the world to say
it is I you have
been looking for,
and then goes with
you every where
like a shadow or a friend."
Wajih's kindness
was everywhere--
with his grandparents,
with his friends,
with people who were in some
pretty interesting jams in life
who needed him to help.
It could have been
school work, or something
that nobody at school
should ever hear about.
It could be just
the love of family,
or the delight to spend
time with his mom,
or his dad, or his brother.
To visit in places
far afield, to be
that law student at
Tulane who could always
give an extra hand.
And speaking with
my colleague who
was Chaplain at
American University,
I heard the same stories.
Oh yes, everyone knew him.
He was always the guy with
a smile and a welcome.
He never seemed to be
in a rush, said Joe.
I don't know how he found
time to do everything he did,
because everything he
did, he did beautifully.
A Rabbinic colleague of
mine said, years ago,
in a way that has stuck
with me, we all die,
but not all are
mourned and remembered
and held close in memory.
He's right about that.
Wajih's life, as we
stand today to recall it
in this place of sacred
memory and to hold him
before God, and in the
company of his family,
and in the creation
of all that he brought
to be-- Wajih's life is
not only worthy of memory,
it is composed of the most
worthy things-- compassion,
delight, love of family, love
of ideas, love of doing things.
These are the things that
when our children are born,
we pray to infuse
their lives with.
And so dear ones, you did.
And while we render him
back to God too soon,
we do it with great gratitude
for having shared his life,
and for the privilege that his
life was for all who knew him.
Let us pray.
God of great mercy,
you whose name
we call in languages
far beyond the ones we
can speak with words,
you know our hearts.
Take us to your heart.
In kindness hold us close.
We are not unwilling to be
sorry and full of grief,
but we worry that we
are not equal to it.
The size of this loss is fast,
and you know it better than do.
Be with us in every moment-- in
the waking hours of the night,
when sleep will not come; in the
early hours of the morning when
we are up to soon; in
the call of the birds
and in the laughter
friends-- may we
be drawn again to the life that
we loved and shared with Wajih.
May we find in the things that
he delighted in, joy in time
to come.
But for now, we beg of you, make
us truly alive to the kindness
that you offer us in the
love we have for one another.
Bless this family.
And thank you for
their closeness,
for their loving kindness
each to the other,
but strengthen them in that.
For each journey in
sorrow is solitary.
Bless each of us, who as
friends and neighbors,
reach out to them
as best we can.
Bless the awkwardness
of the words
we don't know how to speak,
that the love we intend
may be conveyed.
And in the moments to come, as
we set Wajih's like carefully,
gently, gratefully in your
hands, give us words to speak
and thoughts to share that
will be a source of comfort
and honor and gratitude.
For we seek strength from
you for this holy purpose,
and we ask that you
hear our prayer.
Amen.
What follows is a reading from
the first chapter of the Quran,
and two Supplications which
are reported from the Prophet
Muhammad-- peace be upon him--
that he would give at funerals,
followed by a translation.
[SPEAKING ARABIC]
"Oh God, your servant is
in need of your mercy,
and you are without
need of his punishment.
If he was righteous,
then increase his reward.
And if he was wicked,
then overlook his sins."
[SPEAKING ARABIC]
"Oh God, forgive and
have mercy upon him.
Excuse him, and pardon him, and
make honorable his reception.
Expand his entry and cleanse
him with water, snow, and ice.
And purify him of
sin, as a white robe
is purified of filth.
Exchange his home
for a better home,
and his family for
a better family.
Protect him from the
punishment of the grave
and the torment of the fire,
and admit him into the garden
through your mercy."
Amen.
Several beautiful
readings have been
chosen for today's service,
and the first seems so right.
From the Lebanese prophet,
writer, poet, Kahlil Gibran.
"We wanderers, ever seeking
the lonelier way, begin
no day where we have ended;
and no sunrise finds us
where the sunset left us.
Even while the earth
sleeps we travel.
We are the seeds of
the tenacious plant,
and it is in our ripeness
and our fullness of heart
that we are given to the
wind and are scattered.
Brief were my days among
you, and briefer still
the words I have spoken.
But should my voice
fade in your ears,
and my love vanish in your
memory, then I will come again,
And with a richer heart,
and lips more yielding
to the spirit will I speak.
Yea, I shall return
with the tide,
And though death may
hide me, and the greater
silence enfold me, yet again
will I seek your understanding.
And not in vain will I seek.
If aught I have said
is truth, that truth
shall reveal itself in a clearer
voice, and in words more kin
to your thoughts.
I go with the wind,
people of Orphalese,
but not down into emptiness;
And if this day is not
a fulfillment of your
needs and my love,
then let it be a promise
till another day.
Know therefore, that
from the greater silence,
I shall return."
An anonymous writer
writes in a way
that it might be easy to imagine
that Wajih, himself, might
have written.
"Dear parents, I
did not die young.
I lived my span of life, Within
your body And within your love.
There are many that
have lived long lives
And have not been loved as me.
If you would honor me,
Then speak my name,
And number me among your family.
If you would honor me Then
strive to live in love
For in that love, I now live.
Do not doubt That
we will meet again.
Until that happy day, I will
be with God, And wait for you."
And in a reading that's
attributed to Ralph Waldo
Emerson-- but I have to tell
you, in the scholarly world,
we think it's actually
the writing of one
of his women friends,
lesser known, Sam Bessie.
"To laugh often and
love much; to win
the respect of
intelligent persons
and the affection
of children; to earn
the approbation
of honest critics
and to endure the
betrayal of false friends;
to appreciate beauty; to
find the best in others;
to give of one's self; to leave
the world a little better,
whether by a healthy
child, a garden
patch or a redeemed
social condition;
to have played and
laughed with enthusiasm
and sung with exultation; to
know that even one life has
breathed easier because
you've lived-- this
is to have succeeded."
So please join me as we
say together the Psalm 23.
It's printed in your program.
"The Lord is my shepherd,
I shall not want.
He makes me to lie
down in green pastures.
He leads me beside
the still waters.
He restores my soul.
He leads me in the
paths of righteousness
for his name's sake.
Even though I walk through the
valley of the shadow of death,
I fear no evil, for
you are with me.
Your rod and your
staff, they comfort me.
You prepare a table before me
in the presence of mine enemies.
You anoint my head with oil.
My cup overflows.
Surely goodness and
mercy shall follow
me all the days of my life.
And I will do well in the
house of the Lord forever."
Amen.
It's a privilege to invite
Fallon Masterson to offer
a remembrance of Wajih's life.
This last week, I've been
thinking about the shape
of Wajih's life.
And, to me, his shape is lively.
He possessed a unique charisma
that drew people to him.
It was his grin, and his winks,
and his distinct and memorable
laugh, and the way he could
both motivate a person
to do better, be
better, and also remind
them to laugh more, and not
take things so seriously.
It was impossible to
merely meet Wajih.
In fact, I don't think anyone
who met him once, ever walked
away having forgotten him.
You didn't just meet Wajih
and think, oh, that's Wajih,
He's OK.
To know Wajih was to remember
him, and to like him,
and for all of us who knew
him well, to love him.
He was comfortable
in his own skin,
something I admired so much.
And everyone he met
was a potential friend,
someone whose hand
he could shake,
someone to introduce himself to.
I remember Wajih and I
started becoming close
when I was 16 years old.
I wrote in my diary, not
everything has been great
this month except for
one thing, a boy named
Wajih decided to be my friend.
So what does this mean
for the shape of his life
and who Wajih was?
It means that many
people believe
this-- Wajih was my best friend,
Wajih was my closest friend,
or Wajih was my brother.
And each person who
believes this is correct.
Wajih had the gift
of connection and he
could make an impact
on a person's life
in a very short time.
He did real tangible
things for people.
He was the person
one friend could
turn to when facing surgery--
calling Wajih both before
and after-- knowing Wajih
could lift his spirits
through his sense of humor.
He was the person that
I, and many others,
called when they had a secret
they could not tell others,
knowing Wajih was strong
enough to keep our secrets,
and to share our burden.
He was who you asked for advice,
knowing he was straightforward.
And he was the person you
called when you simply
had nothing else
to do, because you
knew Wajih would
never not answer
the phone if you needed him.
He may have spent
most of his life
in Rhode Island, the
smallest of states,
but he had friends across the
world who are here with us
today in spirit, if
not in this room.
Najih told me of a friend
that Wajih had met in Europe.
Wajih was in Paris for
only several months,
and in that time,
he still managed
to make a friend who would be
his life for nearly a decade.
And in law school-- a time that
for many is transient and heads
down- Wajih's ability
to make people
feel noticed and loved still
birthed more friendships.
He lived well.
He did not take his
experiences for granted.
Not everyone makes strong
connections with these places,
but Wajih did and he
left his footprints.
A student from Tulane
described Wajih to me
as one of his best friends.
He wrote me these words
on his relationship.
"We worked together
night after night.
We collaborated together,
and his friendship
provided me with a
sense of stability
in a challenging environment.
I loved him and will
miss him like family."
So no, it did not take Wajih
long to make people feel loved.
And, of course, there
were more than friends.
There was Wajih's actual family.
And Wajih was a loved son,
grandson, brother, nephew,
and cousin.
And just as he made
friends across the world,
he had family who loved him
from all corners-- from Paris
to Texas, Montreal to Dubai,
and, of course, Lebanon.
Wajih was born blessed with
this drive and ambition,
and more blessed to
have a family who
supported him so strongly
in his efforts and dreams.
Wajih lived his life
with determination.
And perhaps the most
remarkable thing about him
was his ability to both be
so dedicated and driven,
but also not to take
things so serious.
And yet as playful
as he could be,
Wajih had other
beliefs and standards
for his relationships.
And you only had to be
his friend on Facebook
to see these two sides of him.
One day he may post a
picture of a funny cat,
and animals he loved so much.
And then the next
day it might be
a post about a global
event with Wajih's
insightful, intelligenced,
nuanced commentary.
I often counted on him to keep
me up-to-date with global news.
He would debate with friends
on these topics for dozens
of posts, and it was
no surprise that Wajih
wanted to be a lawyer.
I wanted to share one last
story with you that I heard from
another friend of Tulane's.
She and Wajih shared
a class first year,
and as Wajih liked to do,
the two soon found themselves
in a classroom debate.
"I lost it," his
soon-to-be friend told me.
"I absolutely went off on
the poor boy across the room.
I didn't even know his name.
Several days later he came
up to me in another class
we shared together.
He introduced himself as Wajih,
and apologized for the comment.
He said he realized
he was wrong,
and he hoped there
were no hard feelings.
That's when I knew Wajih was
a good man with a good heart.
Like everyone else, he had
his opinions and beliefs,
but he was not afraid to
question those opinions,
and admit when he was wrong.
The man I know wasn't always
right, but he was kind.
He listened.
He made a point of
checking in on me.
I share this story because
it's the Wajih that I know."
Not all of us in this
room may know each other.
And today let us
keep Wajih's spirit
alive by celebrating his
approach to life, love,
and friendship.
We now all know each other.
And let us live as Wajih would.
We're all now each
other's family.
And we're all each
other's friends.
Wajih may you continue talking
to us through your memories
and in our dreams at night, as I
know I will always talk to you.
We love you and always will.
[MUSIC "JESU, JOY OF MAN'S
 DESIRING"]
Let us pray.
Oh God, our strength and
our redeemer, giver of life,
and even conqueror of death
beyond our understanding,
we are struggling to give
thanks for a life that,
for us, is over too soon.
So with deep faith
and trust, we ask
that in your great
mercy and wisdom,
you may permit us to entrust
our hearts and our dear Wajih
to your eternal care.
We praise you for your love
and joy embodied in him
all the days of his
life that enabled
him to be a person of kindness
and engagement and joy
and delight.
And especially, we thank
you for his dear family,
and for this larger circle
of friendship and family
that he built, and all
the places he touched.
And we ask in these
moments that you
attend to the prayers and
thoughts of those gathered here
who have written of that love.
"Wajih, thank you for
being the best friend
that I ever had in life.
I love you more than
you will ever know.
We started this
journey together,
and it really won't be
the same without you,
but I know you are
with me in spirit.
Thank you for your
unwavering and unconditional
love and friendship.
I love you more than
you could ever know.
Love, always and forever."
"I remember Wajih
as a little boy,
his first years at school--
clever, curious, a sweet boy."
"My daughter babysat Wajih
and his little brother, maybe
only two to four times,
but remembers you
all as such a loving family.
Your boy's so dear.
From all I read, he had a
wonderful zest for life,
and a hugely loving heart."
"Wajih, thank you for the
love you had for my children,
[INAUDIBLE],
[INAUDIBLE] and Lisa.
With love forever."
"Gigi, thank you for the
memories of Paris, 2003.
Thank you for the
birthday cake you
had made for me out of rocks
covered with chocolate icing,
because [INAUDIBLE]
did not have cake.
Our dinner together
on [INAUDIBLE]
our stroll in [INAUDIBLE]
and our time at [INAUDIBLE]
will never be forgotten.
Love always."
"Dearest, you will
be missed so much.
Rest in peace.
Love you."
"Wajih, thank you for accepting
me as your Lebanese brother.
Although I was lost,
you told me it was never
too late to get in
touch with my roots.
I love you, Wajih."
"When Gigi was a
very little boy,
he had such beautiful
curls that his mom
didn't want to cut them.
I remember how she
could take a ringlet
and stretch it out
several inches,
and it would bounce right back.
He was a beautiful
child, and he grew
to be a beautiful young man.
May he rest in peace."
"To a beautiful soul, loving
heart, great man, my son.
You are in my heart forever.
I will cherish every moment,
every laugh, every memory.
Love you so much.
We'll miss you so."
"To die is to return
home, returning home
to one's father house.
The drop that regains the
stream, the large stream that
flows on forever.
Buddhist chant for the dead.
"Wajih, we'll always have a
special place in our hearts
for his unconditional
love, ability
to light in any
situation, and even
his silly lack of a
sense of direction.
Wajih, we will miss
everything about you.
Rest easy, buddy.
We hope there are
gummy bears up there."
"We love you, Gigi,
and we will always
remember you,
particularly, when we take
your dad's money at poker."
"Gratitude for family and all
for all that love encompasses."
"I will remember my happiness at
sharing Thanksgiving with Gigi
over the years, and
his curly, curly
ringlets when he was a tiny
boy, and his beautiful eyes."
"Wajih was my best
friend since 2004.
We had a huge impact
on who I am today.
He challenged me to be a
more intelligent person.
He always sacrificed time of
his own to keep me company,
and I did the same.
Thank you for such a gift,
Mr. And Mrs. Mazloum."
"With deep sorrow for the
tragic passing of Wajih,
and our deepest and sincere
sympathy to the parents
and brother, [INAUDIBLE].
May his memory be eternal."
"May he rest in peace
in the hands of God."
"I remember you and your
brother running around the house
when I was trying to clean.
I'll miss you."
"For Wajih's life of
concern for others,
and his delight and
kindness and compassion,
I am deeply grateful.
Strengthen and comfort
his grieving family.
Amen."
God of all mercy
and all comfort,
in tender love and
compassion embrace us.
Be our refuge and our strength.
An ever-present help
in this trouble.
Show us again the
warmth of your love that
passes all human understanding.
We know that your days,
oh God, are without end,
and that your mercies
cannot be counted.
In this loss, we are wide
awake to the shortness
and uncertainty of human life.
We ask a new measure
of your spirit,
that we will be able to be led
in kindness and faithfulness,
each to the other in
love, all of our days,
so that when we have served
you in our generation,
we may be gathered together
in love with all those
who have gone before.
Bearing to you the testimony
of a good conscience,
seeking of you comfort
and favor, oh God,
we seek to be at peace but
our hearts are troubled
and our grief is deep.
Sustain us in our loss
and in this loneliness.
Kindle anew ashes of joy, that
we may again know the warmth,
each of the other's, love.
We do offer our
heartfelt gratitude
to have shared generation and
time and life with your son
Wajih.
As we know that you take him
to your heart, take us also.
That together with you
and in your spirit,
we may be joined in memory,
in love, and in eternity.
We ask our prayers in the
strength of your spirit,
now and always.
Amen.
Before I bid you rise
for the commendation,
I did want to call your
attention to the invitation
from the family to
join them following
the burial in Barrington,
at Trafford, in Warren.
I know that you have
conquered parking challenges
beyond imagining
just to be here,
so there isn't a plan
for us all to go together
in a procession to the cemetery,
but the usher's at the back
do have directions for you.
And if you need anything
at all, please just ask.
It truly is an honor
for us at Brown
to welcome your family here,
and I want to say plainly,
that not only Adnan and I,
but all of the Brown family
are holding you in our prayers.
We're holding you in
our prayers in kindness,
but also in gratitude, for
a beautiful, beautiful son
and a wonderful life.
May I ask you to rise.
"Into your hands merciful God,
we commend your servant Wajih.
Acknowledge him.
Hear our prayers for him.
We received him of
you with gratitude,
and we render him back to
you with great reluctance,
and deep love, and profound
gratitude for all that
has been his life.
Receive him into
your arms of mercy
and into blessed rest
with everlasting peace,
and to the company of all
those of good conscience
and good character
and whole life.
We beg of you, we pray for him.
We ask your love
and mercy always.
Amen.
Holy one, now let
us all go in peace.
God's word is fulfilled even
as we can not perceive it.
It is not in death that
God's word is fulfilled,
it is in life itself.
We have seen that
salvation [INAUDIBLE].
We know it's prepared in
the sight of all people,
of every [INAUDIBLE] and may we
go forth confident in the glory
you hold for us, even in sleep."
Our procession takes us to
New Orleans, as [INAUDIBLE].
Many of you know that Wajih
loved his new home [INAUDIBLE],
and this is almost the
season of Mardi Gras.
So we thought that the
saints should go marching in,
and for him to lead us.
And so I do ask you, Adnan and
I will be leading the family,
and if you will,
please follow us out.
We will either see
you at the cemetery,
or we'll see you at Trafford,
or in the days to come.
We pray for you all.
Please go in peace.
[MUSIC "WHEN THE SAINTS GO
 MARCING IN"]
