I went to a funeral today.

Jeremy was a 32 year old man whom I've known for 13 years or so. Not very close to him, but more so with his younger sisters, my knowledge of Jeremy periphial at best -- with the exception of a couple of personal encounters.

Jeremy was a very deep person. That is a rare commodity these days, and although I find myself in relationship with many such "deep" people, Jeremy was "further ahead" than most of us. So much so, he was truly a stranger to this world, I think. I had a friend comment (that did not know Jeremy), "sounds like a tortured soul." I might agree. Most of us do what we can to survive day to day life. Some step further and question things that we are told and that we do. Some try to make a difference. Others simply are ... existing outside what we know as "reality," never quite fitting in ... always observing, rarely commenting, always knowing "something" most of us don't.

That was Jeremy.

He was the first person to introduce me to the concept of "messianic Judaism," a term that loosely means people who follow Torah (Old Testament) but believe that Jesus (Yeshua) was messiah, the promised one of Israel, sent by God to redeem His people. Jeremy was very open to the shallowness that most of us find in our religion, and without dismantling the belief of others, somehow made an impact on those who took the time to look past his "differentness" into the truth he spoke. He was an anomoly in his own family even. I wonder -- seriously -- if he ever had anyone who truly understood him.

This lone-ness took Jeremy past the path of Christianity and Judaism into drugs and other coping devices. Last I heard, he was pretty strung out on some stuff ... living back at home ... not really sure what he was going to do.

When I got the call Sunday that he had died, I thought the worse. But I was wrong. He died of a blood clot to the heart, in his father's arms, on his way to church. At his funeral, the pastor read his "testimony" (a brief, personal writing about how someone feels about their spiritual walk). Jeremy had come full circle. Knowing the God of the Universe, knowing Yeshua as his own, knowing that he belonged to God, and the things that had taken him away were no longer a part of his life. He had even taken the step of public baptism a year and a day before his death.

Jeremy never lost the "other worldness" he had. He simply had found, in his reason and in his journey, that the answer he sought was right were he had left it. Waiting, in the arms of his G-d. The pastor said he inhaled here, and exhaled in the presense of G-d. Theologically sound or not, it is a beautiful picture.

Jeremy's dad told me, "We wanted him back so bad ... but then realized he wouldn't want to come back once he'd tasted eternity."

I believe that Jeremy has found his peace ... his answers. Here, he was a shadow, moving among those of us that knew him, yet never truly understood him. Now, he is fully known ... fully understood.

I cried during the funeral of this man I barely knew, yet loved and admired. Some thought it was because of memories of my own mother. But it was more. Jeremy's journey is done ... he's arrived. The rest of us have more path to cover ... more days of lonliness ... more questions to race after.

Shalom, brother Jeremiah. Thank you for what you added to my life. Shalom.