Eulogy of Donald David Fehrenbach St. Matthias Catholic Church, Milwaukee, Wisconsin May 31, 1998 On behalf of Bill and Marian, and my brothers and sister, I'd like to welcome all of you to this memorial for Donald David Fehrenbach (still Donnie to most of us), and to say thank you for the kindness and support you have shown to our family over the past few months. At Donald's funeral in San Francisco last month, my sister Jeanne did a remarkable job of conveying the thoughts and remembrances of the family from her point of view, being Donald's closest sibling and closest friend. I am saddened that Jeanne cannot be here with us today, (partly because she could be doing this eulogy instead of me), but more so because we all need her, and she needs all of us, to continue to work through the meaning, if there is to be meaning, in Donald's death. I know she is thinking of us today, and is with us in spirit, as is Donald, of course. The sequence of events since Donald received his cancer diagnosis in January have given me many, many moments of pause to consider his life, my life, and our relationship. We were not very close, I guess, at least not in the sense of continually sharing the details of our daily lives. But we were still brothers. Perhaps we were as close as brothers can be who are separated by many years, hundreds of miles, and a world of experiences. We talked relatively infrequently, and I still wonder and regret that we didn't do a better job of communicating with each other. Communication is a two-way street, of course. It takes two to do it well, and most of the time it takes two to do it badly. So the shortcomings in our relationship were a result of both of our personalities and actions. Donald was an artist; I am an engineer. I am deliberate (Donald must have thought me boring!); he was impulsive and flighty.
(Sometimes we thought him flaky!)
My
responsibilities are to my wife, my family, my job. Donald's responsibilities were "out there" - larger causes, weightier matters. I have a career; Donald had a calling.
Yes, Donald had a calling. Until recently, I have often misunderstood or failed to recognize his calling, but it has become more clear to me as I consider the events of the past few months. Even here, just a minute ago, I first referred to Donald as an artist. Donald has had that identity, as an artist, ever since he was a schoolboy. His art adorns the walls of my parents' home, and all of his brothers and sister's homes. Seventeen years ago, when Donald left the Jesuits and the Catholic Church, more than ever his art became his identity. So often over the years we wondered about his art. Was he still painting? Would he find that job, perhaps the teaching job he so desperately wanted, which would provide a studio environment so that he could continue to produce his art? Was he losing his identity, was he hurting, spiritually, because he wasn't producing paintings? I don't know these answers, and we can never know for certain. We do treasure his art, perhaps because it is such a tangible legacy that Donald has left us. Some of his work is on display here at the back of the church. The great gift that Donald had is apparent in all of his art. But I see the same gift in my father's woodwork, in my brother Mark's stylistic creations of polished metal, or in my sister's presentation of a gourmet meal. So I think we are mistaken, perhaps even misled by his talent as an artist. Donald should not be remembered primarily as an artist, because first and foremost, Donald was a man of faith, faith in a loving but all powerful God. When Donald left the Catholic Church, he was angry that he had been deprived of his vocation, not his vocation as an artist, but as a man of faith. So he explored and turned to the Anglican Church, which embraced him, and allowed him the opportunity to continue his ministry of faith. For fifteen years, he carried on his ministry as a lay member of Trinity Episcopal Church in San Francisco. He eventually returned to his theological studies, earning his Masters of Divinity Degree from the University of California last year. And ultimately, he came to the realization, very late in his life, that he could indeed carry on his ministry to his ultimate goal, Holy Orders, within the Episcopal Church. This would have been his dream, the pinnacle of his calling. And he was excited and
energized by this dream, until the day he died. But in this pursuit, he simply ran out of time. However, though he ran out of time in his pursuit of formal Holy Orders, Donald's ministry was in no way diminished by his failure to achieve the priesthood. His ministry could be found in his work at Trinity Episcopal Church in San Francisco; in his work among the gay community there; in the energy and evangelism of his participation in the AIDS Rides the last two years; and in the legions of friends and family for whom Donald was an inspiration and a shining light. This is what I've come to realize through the events of the past few months. Yes, Donald was an artist. His art is a significant part of his legacy to us. Yet as wonderful as his art is, let us not forget that his true calling, his greatest calling, was as a man of faith, and that he died a man of faith, putting his total faith in God despite all of the roadblocks that life placed in his way. That example is his greatest legacy to all of us.
Jon Paul Fehrenbach May 31, 1998