BRENDAN: A Life Long in Purpose

 

Some lives are short in years but very long in purpose.When a child in Kids Kicking Cancer reaches the end of treatment without the cure everyone prayed for, we sometimes award a black belt. The child's name is embroidered on one end. On the other are the words "Master Teacher." The belt does not pretend that the disease has disappeared. It recognizes a different victory: the child has learned to meet darkness with light and has taught others to do the same.One of our first master teachers was Brendan Filzek. He was seven years old when he entered the program. Brendan practiced his karate movements diligently and took his meditations seriously. He needed every tool he could master, because the tumor in his head continued growing despite one treatment after another. His pain became increasingly intense.We tell children that they can "kick" cancer, but we never want a child whose treatment fails to believe that he somehow failed to fight hard enough. The greatness of a martial artist is not measured only by whether the opponent falls. Sometimes it is measured by the courage, peace, and love with which the fighter remains standing. The greater the adversary, the more powerful the response can become.Near the end of Brendan's life, I sat on the living-room floor with him, his sister, and his mother, Maureen. We meditated on the light of Brendan's soul. His body had become terribly weak, but the child inside that body was still present and still powerful."I can feel your light, Brendan," his mother told him. "I will miss your cute little body, but I can feel your light with me."Brendan opened his eyes and looked at her. I saw relief pass across his face. His mother understood. Distance would not erase him. The love and light he had placed within his family would remain.A few days later, hundreds of relatives, friends, classmates, and neighbors gathered at the public school down the block for Brendan's black-belt ceremony. His family doubted that he would be strong enough to attend. We were ready to honor him quietly at home. Brendan would not hear of it. He intended to receive his belt in front of the people he had come to teach.A LIFE LONG IN PURPOSEHis father, Doug, carried him onto the stage, his small body wrapped in a karate uniform. I helped place him carefully in a chair. The principal spoke, family members shared words of love, and then it was Brendan's turn. By then, he could no longer speak. The tumor had distorted one side of his face and taken nearly all his physical strength. But he had told me the week before exactly what he wanted everyone to hear.I stood beside him and repeated his message: "I am receiving this black belt because I have defeated my cancer. I am no longer afraid or angry. If anything, I am more connected to God and to the people around me."Sensei Jeff walked onto the stage carrying the belt. Brendan's name was embroidered on one end; "Master Teacher" was written on the other. The belt was placed around him.Then Brendan stood up.He was not supposed to stand. He barely had the strength to remain seated. Yet for that moment, this was his victory, and he rose to meet it. Three hundred people rose with him. The room filled with tears, applause, and a light for which I still do not have adequate words. One week later, we buried Brendan wearing that black belt.To some, his death might make the word "victory" seem misplaced. Brendan understood it better. Cancer could shorten his time, but it could not determine the value of that time. It could weaken his body, but it could not prevent him from strengthening hundreds of other people. It could silence his voice, but it could not stop his message from being heard.The Jewish tradition speaks of a long life with the phrase arichat yamim - literally, "long days." The emphasis is not only on accumulating years, but on filling one's days with meaning. A person may live many years without truly touching another soul. A child may live only a few years and leave a light that continues to guide an entire community.Brendan's life was painfully short in years. It was extraordinarily long in purpose. When he stood, three hundred people stood differently than they had before. They had come to honor a sick child. They left having been taught by a master.