Today is the Second Sunday of Easter. Readings for Today: Acts 2:14a,22-32 1 Peter 1:3-9 John 20:19-31 Psalm 16 The Collect of the Day: O God, who made this most holy night to shine with the glory of the Lord's resurrection: Stir up in your Church that Spirit of adoption which is given to us in Baptism, that we, being renewed both in body and mind, may worship you in sincerity and truth; through Jesus Christ our Lord, who lives and reigns with you, in the unity of the Holy Spirit, one God, now and for ever. Amen. Sermon for Today: Father Manny's Sermon for today can be read here.

Today is the Third Sunday of Easter. Readings for today: Acts 2:14a, 36-41 1 Peter 1:17-23 Luke 24:13-35 Psalm 116:1-3, 10-17 The Collect of the Day: O God, whose blessed Son made himself known to his disciples in the breaking of bread: Open the eyes of our faith, that we may behold him in all his redeeming work; who lives and reigns with you, in the unity of the Holy Spirit, one God, now and for ever. Amen. The Sermon for Today: Our Sermon today was given by a member of our Christ Church family, Kathy Lyon. You can read it here.

Today is the Fourth Sunday of Easter. Readings for today: Acts 2:42-47 Psalm 23 1 Peter 2:19-25 John 10:1-10 The Collect of the Day: O God, whose Son Jesus is the good shepherd of your people: Grant that when we hear his voice we may know him who calls us each by name, and follow where he leads; who, with you and the Holy Spirit, lives and reigns, one God, for ever and ever. Amen. The Sermon for Today: Father Manny's Sermon is available for reading here.

For those of you who have had the opportunity to visit an African country or a developing one, you may have noticed that many of the public transportation vehicles have pithy statements inscribed on them. These statements stretch the full gamut from simple statements to more proverbial thoughts and religious quotes. Some of these are: ‘Great God of Wonders,’ ‘Miracle Babies,’ ‘Wisdom,’ ‘Chances,’ ‘Small boys are young,’ ‘The young shall grow,’ ‘Opportunity comes but once,’ ‘I Know…,’ ‘Time will Tell,’ and ‘God’s Time Is the Best.’ Some of these writings are captured in local dialects extolling a thought. Some are in honor, or in celebration of, life. The interesting bit about these thoughts - on automobiles, or even corner stores - is that some do not even make any sense, and yet folks write them anyway, after all, whoever has anything written on their automobile knows and understands exactly why. The one statement that readily comes to my mind, especially during this current pandemic, was once written on a type of truck that was referred to as a boneshaker. Boneshakers were old, open-trailer, Bedford trucks used as taxis. The minimal, manufactured parts were the engine, the hood, the windshield, and the interior covering the steering wheel and dashboard. The trailer itself was bare, and so to make it more efficient, people used wood to build a body and roof over the trailer. The truck contained neither doors nor windows. The chairs were more like benches, and passengers were required to climb up and sit in rows on these benches. One good thing - it's incredibly airy!! On one of these boneshakers was written Shall Pass. And in this case, the owner of the truck was also nicknamed Shall Pass. Many were those who new Shall Pass because he’s owned that boneshaker for years. An interesting part of the culture was the interaction between those who own or drive these vehicles and passengers or acquaintances. Whenever one meets the owner (Shall Pass), you will hear ‘Shall Pass.’  He will respond to each greeting ‘All Shall Pass.’ Another example of the interaction between owners of these vehicles and passengers and acquaintances is a story of a gentleman who lived across from my grandfather’s house. He traveled to Germany, and on his return brought a car. Unfortunately, he lost his wife-Aunt Lizzie right after he returned from Germany. In celebration of her life, he turned the car into a taxi and had “Aunt Lizzie” written on it. Wherever he drove to, you would hear screams of ‘Aunt Lizzie.’ In response, he would honk his horn in acknowledgement and appreciation. I never had the chance to ask Shall Pass about the pithy statement on his boneshaker, or why he responded in the way that he did. But I am very sure that he understood in a much deeper way, like most of us do, that nothing lasts forever, that everything passes. As you may have heard before, everything and everyone gets their moment in the sun. Yes, the sun shines but it does not shine on one place forever. The sun rises and goes down at the end of each day, with no single moment in the sun lasting forever. This pandemic has been shattering. I wake up in the morning, and I wonder… sometimes, feelings of anger, depression, and disappointment come over me. And I often feel like giving up. But over the past several days, I have been encouraged by the picture of the boneshaker with Shall Pass embossed on it. I wish I could go back in time and ask, "Why? Why did you capture my imagination with that pithy statement many, many years ago? What experience informed that decision? What is it that made you so hopeful that you rested in the assurance and comfort that all shall pass?" In scripture, we also get a sense that nothing lasts forever. Situations of a siege, occupation, famine, hunger, epidemic, harassment, war, enslavement, persecution, subjugation, and even peace do not last forever. If they did, we would not be here. But it is precisely because they do not that is why we take comfort in the words of Jesus that heaven and earth shall pass away but His Words will not. There’s a great deal of assurance in those words, for if we didn’t know what it is that we can rely on in this, our time of need, now we know that we can rely, depend, thrive, and live on those Words of our risen Savior that will not pass away. In as much as the boneshaker has never meant more to me today than it did when I was a kid, I am also encouraged by the words of Paulo Coelho: “Nothing lasts forever…pain and troubles included.” This, too, shall pass. This pandemic, the pain and troubles that are associated with it, all shall pass. So, this Easter season, assuming you have a boneshaker, what shall you write on it? ~Manny

This past week children in Howard County Public School System have begun taking online classes. They started a little later than other school districts in Maryland, but I believe in "better late than never" and so I give credit to the teachers and the leadership who have worked hard to make this happen. Online classes have been designed for all students, including children with special needs like my daughter, Gigi. When they had their online orientation a couple of days ago, I was like, "how are the teachers planning to control each class?" As good as these teachers are, they would be counting on parents to partner them in making these online classes work. But as I looked at the other kids with their parents, I can only be thankful about how fortunate we are that we live in a place where every child - even those with special needs - are offered the same opportunites. Looking at my daughter, and seeing how excited she was about seeing her teacher and classmates, and yet indifferent about the actual work she has to do, reminded me of a story about Nathan, a classmate who was born with a terminal disease. At age 12, he was still in the second grade and challenged with slurred speech. Like Gigi, Nathan often sounded very coherent, bringing to fore all that he could have been but for his debilitating illness. Unlike Gigi, Nathan had twenty children in his class. Their teacher, Ms. Spencer, was always flustered. Another student, Jeremy, had special needs that took up so much of Ms. Spencer's time that she worried about the other 19 children. Like Gigi’s teacher, Ms. Spencer invited Nathan’s parents for a chat. This wasn’t their first meeting, and certainly wouldn’t be the last. They’ve heard all that before. They sat quietly and listened to Ms. Spencer went through her list of Nathan’s obstructive habits in class. She ended her list with this emphatic suggestion “Your son really needs to be in a special school. His presence in this class is unfair to the 19 other children.” They’ve heard this before, but this is the challenge: “There are no special schools in the area” They responded. “And we know what a shock it would be for our son if we moved him from here. He really likes your class”. That night, Ms. Spencer thought about Nathan and his helpless parents. She thought about how difficult it must be for them to care for a child with so many needs, knowing all the while that, sooner or later, his illness will kill him. That night, she said a prayer for Nathan... “Father God, please help me to be more patient with Nathan.” From that day on, she made an effort to tolerate Nathan. Not quite long after her prayer, Easter rolled by and Ms. Spencer thought it would be a great idea to teach the kids something new about Easter. She narrated the Jesus story - his life, death and resurrection. She concluded that Easter was all about resurrection and new life. For their homework, she handed each child a plastic egg and told them to fill it with something that represented new life. When she handed Nathan his egg, she noticed the same indifferent reaction that often greeted her whenever she gave him his homework. As she often did, she would call his parents in the evening and explain the assignment to them so they could help Nathan with it, in the same manner that Gigi’s teacher expects us to help her with her homework. The next day, Ms. Spencer walked into the class to find a pile of 20 plastic eggs on her desk. To her dismay, she forgot to call Nathan’s parents. She knew Nathan wouldn’t be able to complete the assignment without help. She couldn’t believe her own disappointment with herself as she went through the assignments. Jenny, in the front row, was the first egg, and it contained a flower. “Great choice, Jenny,” she said. “Flowers grow at the beginning of spring, and they symbolize new life for plants”. The second egg contained a paper butterfly. “Another brilliant choice, Stuart”, she said, reading the name on the egg. “Caterpillars turn into butterflies and a new life emerges from an old form. Well done.” She picked a third egg from the pile; it was Nathan’s egg. She didn’t know what to expect, and when she opened it, it was empty. Nathan didn’t understand the assignment and his parents didn’t know. She thought hard about how she can avoid embarrassing Nathan in front of the whole class. But then a voice disrupted her thoughts: “That’s mine, Ms. Spencer. Aren’t you going to talk about it?” Ms. Spencer hesitantly responded, “But Nathan, your egg is empty.” And this is where it gets a little more interesting. Nathan looked into his teacher’s eyes, and with a smile, responded, “Yes, Ms. Spencer. Just like Jesus’ tomb.” The whole class gasped and fell into silence. They saw tears rolling down Ms. Spencer’s cheeks. Nathan understood the assignment after all. The egg is empty just as Jesus’ tomb is empty. Easter - the story of the empty tomb and egg. Remember, new life is made possible only when we experience death…and, in our case, the kind of death which resurrects in us the desire to live again, in spite of the devastation in our lives. It is the kind of death which inspires us to go the extra mile to serve the Nathans and Gigis of our world because we believe in life, however challenging it may be. It is the kind of death which makes it possible for us to see the other side of life-beauty, contentment, goodness, peace, and grace. Confucius settles us with these words: “I was complaining that I had no shoes until I met a man with no feet.” Three weeks later, Nathan died. His 19 classmates each brought a plastic egg and placed it on his casket. Each one of them was empty, and they needed to be - for without an empty egg, life cannot rise from the ashes and devastations of our lives. Nathan was right, after all... the egg is empty like Jesus’ tomb, and new life is always possible - even from an empty egg. ~Manny

All of our lives have been upended by COVID-19. For those of who are home and barely go out, there’s this feeling of being imprisoned in our own homes. Should we need to go out and grab something outside of home, we have to wear face masks to protect us and others. For those who are considered essential workers, the thought of going to work is freeing but equally fearful because you have no idea who it is that you will encounter, and whether or not that person is infected. We have been subjected to a different kind of life, one that we haven’t lived before, never thought we would ever live, and never hope to live again - should we eventually return to live our normal lives. Returning to live normal lives has been the hope we express to ourselves, and to others. There’s never a day when we don’t hear or talk about our hope to have our lives return to normal - which is fantastic. But the idea of a return to normal lives may be subjective and relative, because the normalcy that we crave for, or expect, may mean different things to different people. For some, the normalcy simply means being able to do the things they used to do before the pandemic. For some, the normalcy means being able to pursue their careers and live life like they used to. For some, the normalcy means being able to shop, travel, go out, run, walk, take kids to school, and simply approach life as they used to, before the pandemic. For some, the normalcy would mean having to pick their lives back up after the devastation of this crisis. For some, the normalcy would mean having to grieve for a loved one with whom they didn't get the chance to spend their last days. For some, the normalcy would mean overcoming the toll of isolation and loss - on that note, there’s a story of a man in Massachusetts who could no longer stand being separated from his wife that they had him visit her in a bucket truck. Amidst these cravings for normalcy are deeper questions, the kind which should cause us to re-evaluate how normal our lives need to be. I really do not think we can return to live as we had without asking ourselves how we can live better in the future than we had in the past. How can we be better angels today, and in the future, than we were in the past? How can we live a kind of future in which questioning is part of our narrative, the sort of questioning that leads us into advocating for the necessary change in our present arrangement? We are well aware of some of the systemic inequities in our society, especially among people of color, the poor, and those whom we have come to recognize as being on the margins of our society. They have certainly been the hardest hit. Quite apart from the disproportionate death toll - which may be attributed to a host of different factors, of which access to primary health care is critical - I fear for the many for whom the pandemic has worsened an already precarious living condition. I fear for the many who may be feeling the brunt of these consequences of inequalities. I fear for the many who have lost income they may never recover, thus having a multiplying effect on them, and on their families. I fear for all for whom the checks from the government wouldn’t be enough to meet their needs. I fear for all for whom the trauma of this pandemic may last for a very long, long time. I fear…. There’s a story of a mother who would always cut the ends of her carrots before she put them in a pot. The daughter always watched her mother cut both ends of the carrots before she put them in, and over the years she thought about asking her mother why she did so. Something always seemed to get in her way every time she wanted to ask about the ends of the carrots, but on this particular day nothing got in the way. She went ahead and asked her mother: “Mom, why do you cut the ends of the carrots before you put them in the pot?” The mother appeared perplexed at this strange question. “I saw Grandma do it, so that’s why I do it,” responded the perplexed mother. “Well, did you ask Grandma why she did that?” asked the girl. Fortunately for both of them, Grandma was visiting and so the mother shot back, “She’s right there in her room; you may want to go and ask why she did that.” So the girl ran to her grandmother’s room and narrated her story: “Grandma,” she said, “Mother always cuts the two ends of the carrots before she puts them in a pot. I asked her why she did that. She said that she saw you do it, and that’s why she does. I asked her if she ever asked you why you had, but she said no, and so now I ask you. Why did you cut both ends of the carrot before you put them in the pot?” The grandmother, who grew up during the Depression, was as perplexed as her daughter had been earlier, and sought to explain why. "Well, I used to have a smaller pot, and the carrots didn’t fit in it when whole, and so whenever I am cooking carrots, which was often, I would cut both ends just so the carrots would fit into the pot.” The girl responded: “But did mom ever ask why you did that?” “No,” the grandmother replied. The girl then screamed, “So why is mom doing the exact same thing when she has a bigger pot??” “I don’t know why,” said the grandmother. “You'll have to ask her.” Without knowing why, her mother cut both ends of her carrots before putting them in a pot - even though she had a bigger pot which could fit her carrots. If she had asked her mother, like her daughter asked her, she would’ve known why her mother did so. At this most perilous time, this time when we are all desirous about returning to our normal lives, a critical part of making our future, normal life incredibly meaningful could include questioning our present arrangement. Failure to do so would mean we haven’t learned much from this experience, after all. To return to life as it was before our confinement would mean that we were satisfied with the status quo. Each situation in life, as good or evil as it may be, offers us the grace to learn about readjusting our lives and our purpose. To return to our old normal lives without asking questions on how to better adjust for a new normal would mean neglecting to ask why mom cuts the carrots at both ends before she puts them in a pot. The Easter story is about the glory of a human being fully alive. And to be alive in that glory of being human is to look at each other differently, and with the hope of living differently, for we do have a bigger pot for our carrots. Happy Easter. Manny

I wonder what The nonbelieving world Was like The day Before Christ died. We all know What happened After – The skies wept. I wonder If they Awaited His execution With trepidation Or if they knew Ahead of time That fury In the Heavens Would soon offer Redemption. ~P. Pruitt

There was only one television station in the whole country, and it ran about six-eight hours a day. Over the years, it increased its daily coverage and now it runs 24/7. For many Ghanaians like myself, that was the only conventional form of entertainment and news, and exactly at 8:00 p.m. every Sunday, you'll find families and friends, neighbors and strangers gathered together to watch TV. In many homes, you really didn’t have to be a resident of that home ion order to be able to watch TV. My mum didn’t own a TV in our house, for example, and so I either visited my cousins about a mile away, or some other cousins about two or so miles away, to watch TV. The reality was that every Ghanaian in any part of Ghana where there was electricity would find a place to watch Akan Drama at 8:00 p.m. on Sundays. There were two main drama groups, Osofo Dadzie and Obra, which were rotated each Sunday. They entertained Ghanaians on Sundays for a long, long time. I am not sure if they still perform and charm Ghanaians with their powerful, witty stories. One of the two groups, the Osofo Dadzie Group, had a jingle - "Woyaya" - a word from Ga, a Ghanaian dialect, which means "We are Going" and which appeared on Art Garfunkel’s album Angel Clare. In all honesty, I came to know the actual lyrics of the song only a few days ago. Throughout the many years of hearing this song as a jingle on Sunday evenings at 8:00 p.m., the only part of the lyrics that I was familiar with was "We are going." It wasn’t because the rest didn’t matter to me, but rather because I had barely heard the words - and even if I did, I didn’t know what they meant. Like many Ghanaian kids, we mumbled words of songs that we didn’t understand or couldn’t hear properly. We are in uncharted territory, as we know, and as I have reflected this week about Holy Week and the unsettling period in which we find ourselves, I read a post by a friend of mine who grew up in Ghana and is a contemporary. In his post, he remarked, “I finally know the words of the song to Osofo Dadzie. Enjoy.” Like many other Ghanaians, he didn’t know the words to the song until a few days ago, as well. When I read his post, I decided to check out the lyrics of the song, and there within those lyrics were words of gold - comforting words that are meant to calm and soothe our fears. There were words that I never associated with the song. Here they are: We are going, heaven knows where we are going, We'll know we're there. We will get there, heaven knows how we will get there, We know we will. It will be hard we know And the road will be muddy and rough, But we'll get there, heaven knows how we will get there, We know we will. We are going, heaven knows where we are going, We'll know we're there. I wonder why the Ghanian drama group picked this particular song. I can only surmise that within every single story they acted, and which came on our television screens, was a much deeper reality about the human story - that we are always on the move, and that we are not static, but it is only heaven who knows where we going. Life may be rough because life’s highways are never smooth; there are potholes, and also some untarred dusty ones like our Savior walked, and there are challenges both great and small. But our wanderings are never meant to lead us astray, for heaven knows not only knows where we’re going but also how we will get there. Comforting!! As I reflected on the lyrics, I couldn’t help but to interpret our present predicament through the lens of this song. We’ve heard so much about COVID-19 that we are very much aware of the devastation it has wrought upon us and our loved ones. One of the tragic stories is about a parishioner who lost her husband a couple of days ago. She couldn’t visit with him, hold his hands, or offer him some reassuring words of comfort and love Talk about the road being muddy and rough. It is heartbreaking!! We’re going, but to where are we going? Where’s the destination? We’re in Holy Week, the most solemn week in the Church’s life and in the life of every Christian, but we cannot observe Holy Week like we’re all used to - talk about the road being muddy and rough. Holy Week creates for us the awareness of the darkness that surrounds our path and blurs our vision, and often renders us incapable of noticing little glimpses of God’s glory in the most difficult days of our lives. I have been encouraged by the gift of each of you - your tremendous generosity and kindness has been overwhelming. Your faith and sense of purpose has been reassuring. It tells me that above all else, you understand that weeping may last for the night, but joy comes in the morning; that is our Easter story. As dreary as the times may be, we're going. Heaven knows where we’re going. Heaven knows how we’ll get there. And, in fact, Heaven knows that we shall, for there shall be no Easter sunlight without the darkness of the Friday prior. I invite you to join us for all of our services which will be livestreamed. Join us in celebrating the Triduum and Easter. And after worship on Easter Sunday, stay awhile for Coffee Hour on Zoom. I wish you all a blessed Triduum and a Happy Easter. ~Manny

In the silence of the heart God speaks. If you face God in Prayer and silence, God will speak to you. Then you will know That you are nothing. It is only when you Realize your nothingness, your emptiness, That God can fill you with Himself. Souls of prayer are souls of great silence. ~Mother Theresa

Eternal Spirit, living God, in whom we live and move and have our being, all that we are, have been, and shall be is known to you, to the very secret of our hearts and all that rises to trouble us. Living flame burn into us, cleansing wind, blow through us, fountain of water, well up within us, that we may love and praise in deed and in truth. New Zealand Prayer Book - Night Prayer

When despair for the world grows in me and I wake in the night at the least sound in fear of what my life and my children's lives may be, I go and lie down where the wood drake rests in his beauty on the water, and the great heron feeds. I come into the peace of wild things who do not tax their lives with forethought of grief, I come into the presence of still water. And I feel above me the day-blind stars waiting with their light. For a time, I rest in the grace of the world, and am free. ~by Wendell Barry