"City Burial then puts you in a cardboard coffin and buries you in a city grave, next to thousands and thousands of other graves with tiny headstones that just have a number and no name. The city contracts a clergy to perform a short graveside service and that's it. I was hired to perform one of those services," he said.

"The deceased was a homeless man who could not be identified. The paperwork listed his name as 'John Doe'. As I stood beside the hilltop grave overlooking the city, reading from a book of prayers, there were two representatives from the city sent as witnesses who stood about 50 feet away, impatiently shifting their weight from one leg to the other. I was the only one who was really there for the funeral, and it was so sad I began to cry. I kept reading as best I could so the witnesses wouldn't notice. Then to wrap things up I bowed my head and began The Lord's Prayer."

"I was so distracted by the sadness of the scene that I actually forgot the words to The Lord's Prayer. I glimpsed over my shoulder and saw the two witnesses staring at me as if to say, 'Aren't you done yet?' They were far enough away that I don't think they heard me flubbing the words. After a moment I regained my composure and finished the prayer. We all signed the proper city paperwork and went home."