Loudonville, NY
David C. Schulze, 90, went to his eternal reward on April 9, 2006 at home with his beloved wife Joan at his side. David had been ill with liver cancer for three months. David was the fifth of 11 children born to Frederick C. and Stella M. Kappler Schulze. He attended Catholic elementary school and then at the age of 12 entered St. Francis College, the minor seminary of the Franciscan Friars. Ordained a priest in 1939, his first assignments included teaching at Trenton Catholic Boys High School and the minor seminary of Staten Island. In 1946, he was sent to Costa Rica where he founded St. Francis College in Moravia. Through the years, this school has grown into a co-educational primary and a secondary school that has been recognized as the best in Costa Rica. In 1949, he was appointed assistant to the provincial and, in 1963, he was elected provincial of the Franciscan Order, an office he held for six years. With special papal permission, he married Joan Risbam in 1969 and took up residence in Albany, N.Y. David enjoyed swimming, traveling with his wife Joan, meeting new friends, trips to New York City theatre, ballets and the opera. David and his wife enjoyed trips to Naples, Fla. over the years. David's special interest was weekly game of chess with a gentleman friend for several years. Diagnosed with terminal liver cancer, David tried to accept the fact that his time left on this earth was very short and to prepare for death, while at the same time to avail himself of the advice and aid of his doctors and loving dedication to his needs by the love of his life, his wife of 36 years, Joan. His final moments were very peaceful. In addition to his beloved wife, he is survived by his sisters, Stella Aument and Betty Schulze, both of N.C., Joan Francis, Mary Dixon and Ruth Goetter of Pa. He is also survived by several nieces and nephews.
DAVID SCHULZE
November 11, 1915 - April 9, 2006
Funeral Service
April 12, 2006 at 1:30 PM
St. Ann's Church
1253 Lawrence Road
Lawrenceville, NJ
PURPOSE OF LIFE
We are assembled today to remember the life of David Schulze. This is not only to help you mourn his death, but to learn how to live your life by reflecting on his.
The purpose of life is not to live forever, but rather to choose who we are by how we treat others. This choice is made during all the interactions between all the people, big and small, whom you meet during your life. Your choices are decisions that define your inner self, they are written on your soul so that who you become is who you will stay for eternity.
MANY ACCOMPLISHMENTS
When you look at the life of David Schulze, you cannot help but notice his achievements.
o He was ordained in 1939, his first assignments being to teach at the Trenton Catholic Boys High School and at a minor seminary on Staten Island.
o In 1946, while serving as a Franciscan in Costa Rica, he founded St. Francis College in Moravia, which grew to be the best school in the country.
o And in 1963, David became the Provincial of the Franciscan Order, a position that he held for 6 years.
WHAT WE DO & WHO WE BECOME
But, while achievements are easy to see, one's qualities as a person are much harder to see. I have learned as I have grown older that the small goal in life is what you accomplish, but the big goal is how you grow while interacting with others along the way. Homer once said that “the journey is the thing”, capturing so long ago what it takes most of us a lifetime to learn.
LOVE OF GOD
David's journey seemed to me imbued with an understanding of both of these tracks of growth from the very beginning. What impressed me first was his love of God, entering the minor seminary of the Franciscan Friars at age 12. If you are good at math that means that his seminary studies went from 1927-1939, 12 years. Imagine the dedication he must have had to persevere through all the ups and downs of 12 years of study.
My meeting with David, over 20 years ago, was one that balanced what I could learn from reading about him with my own personal impressions.
HUMBLE & MEEK
My first impression was of someone who was both humble and meek. Humility is seeing yourself in relationship to God, at which point all of our accomplishments pale by comparison, and our reaction is to bow our heads and bend our knees.
SENSITIVE IN LOVE
David never touted his accomplishments, but wanted only to improve his love for two very important people in his life, Jesus and Joan. There has not been a day of his life that he has not expressed his love for Jesus, and not a day of his 36-year marriage to Joan that he did not feel blessed by his marriage to her. He agonized at the thought of not fully loving both Jesus and Joan, his exquisite sensitivity being testimony to the beauty of his soul. 
He seemed to me so considerate of the feelings of others, ever wanting to listen to what others might say instead of wanting to toot his own horn.
MERCIFUL
Having faced the meaning of life, he was not only sensitive to others, but able to forgive those who were not sensitive to him. Having made a decision to leave the Catholic priesthood and marry was probably one of the hardest decisions of his life, and regrettably would be met with some anger from others.
Yet, David seemed to me as always being very merciful rather than holding grudges, realizing holding grudges, to exact one's pound of flesh, was a waste of time. Instead, he was willing to forgive others, to believe in their potential to go and sin no more, aware that the punishment for being mean or selfish was to “be” mean or selfish, that the negative consequence stunting one's growth was the built-in punishment for having done it in the first place.
COURAGE IN FACING ILLNESS & DEATH
My meeting with David and Joan, so very long ago, was very meaningful to them and to me. Nonetheless, I was a bit stunned to get a phone call from David, asking if I would be willing to be a part of his funeral service. In speaking with him and with Joan, I was impressed with how well he was facing his illness and impending death. I hope that I can bear the burden of failing health as gracefully and courageously as did he. And I hope that when I die, I shall leave a legacy of love as wide and deep as did he. That legacy is not a grouping of words soon to be forgotten on a tombstone, but words that are carved into your minds, your hearts and your souls.
DAVID'S FINAL GIFT TO YOU
As I said when I first began to speak, we remember David Schulze today not simply to give him tribute, nor to just help us mourn his death, but primarily to learn from his example, and to use what we learn in what is left of our lives. Today's service is his final gift to you and to me. It is a not so gentle reminder that this day will inevitably come to each of us, and that we need to learn from his example so as to make the most of the days that we still have.
CONCLUSION
Let me conclude by reading a poem that was found in the back pocket of a parishioner in 1986 when he died. He had fallen away from church, but his friendship with me enabled him to rediscover his faith. He also had only 3 months to live after being diagnosed with cancer. He was a mountain climber, and he treasured an anonymous poem that he had found that spoke to how one's life, even after ending, continues to influence the lives of others. That is so true of David's life that I wanted to read you this poem. It is entitled,
WE WILL NEVER AGAIN PASS THIS WAY
An old man going a lone highway,
Came at the evening, cold and gray,
To a chasm, vast and deep and wide,
Through which was flowing a sullen tide.
The old man crossed in the twilight dim,
The sullen stream has no fears for him,
But he turned when safe on the other side,
And built a bridge to span the tide.
“Old Man”, said a fellow pilgrim near,
“You are wasting your time with building here;
You never again will pass this way,
Your journey will end with the closing day.
You have crossed the chasm, deep and wide,
Why build you this bridge at evening tide?”
The Builder lifted his old gray head;
“Good Friend, in the way I've come,” he said,
“There followed after me today
A Youth whose feet must pass this way,
This stream that has been as naught to me,
To the fair-haired Youth might a pitfall be.
He too must cross in the twilight dim,
Good Friend, I am building the bridge for him.”
The Reverend Peter K. Stimpson
