Please take a few minutes to read Father Manny's Sermon for today. Heavenly Father, I surrender to you every aspect of my mind, my will and my life to You. This day, I choose to dwell in your goodness and faithfulness. May those seeds you have long planted in me take root and grow. Keep me close to you, like a father would his child, and direct my steps like a father would his child. Amen. Amidst the COVID-19 pandemic, we’re now dealing with racial tensions. There are daily demonstrations over issues of justice that have been simmering for a very long time. It looks like our world and life is on the edge. There’s this unsettling feeling wherever you turn. Today’s gospel doesn’t make things any easy for us. It has placed the gospel burden on us-that, like our master Jesus, we have to disturb the apple cart-we have to take up the cross-lose our lives for the sake of the cross-by standing up for what is Godly and right- that each of us is of more value than any sparrow. The charge then is to stand up and let your voice be heard. Let not the fears of the morrow cripple what you know to be right. Let not the fear of a repercussion weigh so heavily on you, to the extent that you choose to ignore what you know to be right and descent, for the convenience of fellowship with those who can destroy the body but cannot destroy the soul. Stand up and be counted. Let your faith be bigger than your fear. On this Father’s Day morning, my charge to you is to stand up and be counted. Remember Paul’s question, should we continue to sin so that grace may abound? Not so. He says. You and I both know that the failure to stand up and be counted is in itself an endorsement of the sins of the pastshould we continue in that sin? By no means. As manifold as God’s grace maybe, we should not take that grace for granted and believe that we can continue to give life to the sins of yester years. As great as the mercy of God may be, we cannot take God’s mercy for granted. And so, I implore you to stand up and be counted. Stand up and shake any remnant of fear that has consumed you and weakened you from taking a stand. My beloved, stand up and boldly proclaim the gracious favor of the God who dared to reconcile with us in Christ Jesus. Stand up and proclaim in the light what you hear in the dark. Stand up and proclaim from the housetops what is whispered to you. Stand up and be counted, let your faith be bigger than your fear. What we need to understand is today’s gospel story isn’t about peace or unity or some kumbaya event. Jesus says to the twelve, do not for once think that I brought peace to the earth. No, not at all. I brought the sword. I have come to set a man against his father, a daughter against her mother, a daughter-in-law against her mother-in-law. Your foes will be from your own household. This is all because you will have to stand up, and beginning from your own household, counter any prevailing narrative that seeks to place more value on the sparrow than your fellow man. You will have to stand up and counter any narrative that seeks to injure the dignity of another person. You will have to stand up, and beginning from your own household offer a compelling vision of a future rooted in the newness of life. This is how you make enemies in your own household, you decide to reject all that which is not of God. You decide to reject the caricature into which others have been created since the summer of 1619 along the shores of Jamestown, Virginia. Last year there was a celebration of the 400th anniversary of the arrival of the first enslaved Africans in Virginia. Those were innocent souls who had no idea what awaited them in this strange but beautiful land. The tragedy is that right from the very beginning, Africans were not counted or recognized as being fully human. There’s a story of an Anglican priest in Virginia, who before the baptism of each Black person, would have them take an oath, that the Baptism doesn’t confer upon him or her, the right of being equal with his/her owner. The priest knew that all who have been baptized into Christ, are also baptized into his death, and just as Christ rose from the dead, they will rise with him. The priest was aware that baptism confers the power of equality, dignity and grace on each person. That power is two-fold, one, it is on the person who has been baptized, and two, it is also required of the baptized to extend the grace which he or she has received to even those who have not been baptized. It is imperative on the baptized to make real and tangible the intrinsic value of everyone. But for fear of disrupting the status quo, the priest could not stand up and uphold the virtues of the baptismal narrative. The problem is, the failure to stand up and proclaim what we believe to be right, the failure to acknowledge Christ before others and the myopic benefit of denying Christ before others makes Christianity unattractive. We wonder why our pews are empty. We wonder why sanctuaries, places of solace, places where the good news of Christ is shared has to close down because there aren’t people coming to worship-when the harvest is plentiful. I am yet to come across any one person who doesn’t like good news. We all like good news, but the question is, what is good about the news which is being shared by someone who doesn’t believe that people who look like George Floyd, Rayshard Brooks and myself deserve to be? The news may be good in and of itself, but 3 who is sharing that good news? Who is it? Is it someone who believes in finding his own life or someone daring to lose the life for the sake of the gospel, just so by the grace of God, they may find it? My former Rector told me a story about a parishioner who decided not to honor his pledge. The Rector had called the parishioner to remind him about his pledge because he had not paid for some time. The Rector knew that he was an honorable faithful man. But when he called, this is what the honorable parishioner told him “I am not going to pay the pledge.” He said. “Why. What happened?” Asked the bemused Rector. “I am not paying because you brought a Black man on staff.” His jaw dropped. He knew him to be an honorable man. He knew him to be a faithful man. The shocked Rector simply replied. “Thank you very much. We will do just fine.” This is how you create enemies in your household. You set yourself against any narrative that places more value on a sparrow than a person, you decide to stand up because your faith is bigger than your fear. In no uncertain terms, my former Rector rejected the bigotry of a man-a Christian man who shares the same baptismal death with Christ, the Rector and me, the person he sought to denigrate with his money. I have such a deep and abiding respect for this priest because he did not fall into the trap of having to choose between money and dignity. He did not allow himself to buy into a destructive narrative which perpetrated a myth about the inferiority of African Americans. He stood up to a man for whom Black lives were not even worth his faithfulness to the gospel of Jesus Christ. He stood up for a Race and a people who have suffered for so long simply because of the color of their skin. Stand up, and let your faith be bigger than your fear. To stand up and be counted may be synonymous with bearing the cross. Remember what Jesus said, whoever does not take up the cross and follow me is not worthy of me. To be worthy is to take up the cross with all its pain, suffering and shame. To take up the cross is to be committed to the vision of the one who calls us to lose our lives for his sake. More than that, to take up the cross is to take a stand of commitment to the one who calls us to walk in newness of life. Today, this Father’s Day, I invite you to begin that walk. To stand up, like a father who stands up for his children and stands up against those who may seek to injure those children. Today, like a father, I invite you to begin the walk of newness of life, where your motivation isn’t about what’s in it for you, but rather what you can give. The new life and meaning that you can give to another I learned from Eugene Peterson that “Anyone who holds on to life just as it is destroys that life. But if you let go, reckless in your love, you’ll have it forever, real and eternal.” I think it is about time we stand up, let go of life as is, and be profligate in sharing God’s love and justice for your faith is bigger than your fear. Amen.

This month, the men of Christ Church were invited to send in photos of themselves wearing their favorite hats in celebration of Father's Day.... and we received a lot of photos! Thank you to the Christ Church men, and a huge THANK YOU to all fathers, wherever you may be on this day. Whether by birth or by choice, we are thankful for you who step up to lead, support, teach, and nurture. HAPPY FATHER'S DAY. “A father is the one friend upon whom we can always rely. In the hour of need, when all else fails, we remember him upon whose knees we sat when children, and who soothed our sorrows; and even though he may be unable to assist us, his mere presence serves to comfort and strengthen us.” —Émile Gaboriau

Like many of you, I have been wondering about all that is going on in our country. For good reason, I have greatly limited the time I spend watching television. I read the news online, though, and anytime I read the news or watch TV, I cringe. These days, there are frequent stories and videos about what police officers have done, or are doing, to the very people they have sworn an oath to protect. There was one video where the police officer released a dog on the suspect. This dog kept biting and biting the suspect, inflicting needless pain on him. Again, I asked myself, "Why? Is this law enforcement, or are we on some battlefield? Why should dogs even be used in such manner against citizens?" In many cases, I end up asking myself, "Why should any of these interactions even end in tragedy?" I cringe. Think about being anywhere in our own community. In your travels, you may see a police officer. Whenever I now see any one of them, all that I see is an individual loaded and primed for battle. "Against whom?" I ask myself. Granted, they must deal with some level of violence in the performance of their duty, but why do some even dress up as if any of our neighborhoods is a battlefield? Are they police officers, or peace officers? It simply beats my imagination. Prior to smartphones, we mostly heard about, or read, stories about police brutality. Those stories did not get as much reaction because they appeared more distant. Moreover, many were those who felt powerless to usher in any lasting change or bring to the world’s attention to some of the grotesque and insidious tactics that the police - in the name of law enforcement - use against their own citizens, these people they have taken an oath to defend. But as we can all tell, there is a different way in which videos can tell the same story, and these stories of police brutality have been pitiful, riveting, shocking, insulting, demeaning, or make me cringe. Amid all the demonstrations across the world over the way George Floyd died, there was also a demonstration in Buffalo, New York, where a peaceful demonstrator was shoved down by police. This gentleman fell backwards, with his head hitting the pavement. Save for the officers who attended to him and tried to offer help, the rest acted indifferently to the plight of the man. This act was perpetrated against a White man in full view of the whole world. It is now my understanding that this man has a fractured skull and is not able to walk. If the police can behave in such a way in broad daylight, what might they do under the cover of darkness? This, too, makes me cringe. To add insult to injury, we had another incident - this time in Atlanta - where Rayshard Brooks was fatally shot. He had fallen asleep in his car at a Wendy’s drive-through. He then had a conversation with the police for 41 minutes, during which he wasn’t accused of doing anything wrong. All of a sudden, he got into an altercation with the police officers with whom he had been having a conversation, managed to take one officer’s taser, and as he ran away, directed the taser at the officer. The Officer in response, shoots him dead. The video of the scene is painful and hurtful to watch. But what makes me cringe is that even after Mr. Brooks had been shot, one officer kicked him while another stood on top of him, and did not offer any kind of aid. Whatever it is that Mr. Brooks may have done, it did not warrant his death. And this makes me cringe. I cringe over the pattern of indifference and abject desecration of human bodies, especially that of African Americans by police officers, but please do not get me wrong. I am not, in any way, suggesting that every police officer harbors within himself or herself a racist bias towards every African American. Far from that. I have been pulled over by police officers before, and there is one particular story that I share of an officer who pulled me over. He walked over to my window, and asked for my driver’s license, registration, and proof of insurance. I then gave him the documents he requested. And then, out of nowhere, he asked, “What do you do for a living?” “I am a priest,” I responded. “A Roman Catholic priest?” he asked. “No. An Episcopal priest,” I answered. He then took a long pause and said to me, “Father, wherever you are going, I will need you to slow down.” And then, surprisingly, he handed over my documents, and said I could leave. This Sunday is Father’s Day. George Floyd will not be with his children on Father’s Day. He will never again hear his children wish him "Happy Father’s Day." Martin Gugino may have to spend Father’s Day dealing with a fractured skull. Rayshard Brooks will not celebrate his daughter’s birthday nor will he hear his children wish him "Happy Father’s Day" any more. This makes me cringe. A few weeks ago, I received an email from a parishioner with the subject line, I am optimistic. Upon reflection of this the email, I said to myself, "How can one not be optimistic?" Without that sense of optimism, you will be consumed by fear, desolation, and hopelessness. More than that, you will always feel this sense of spite, hatred, and revenge - even against those who have done nothing to hurt or demean you. I am always reminded by Dr. King’s words: “The arc of the moral universe is long, but it bends towards justice.” For that reason, in as much as I cringe over some of the actions of our police officers, I am optimistic about a future where mutual trust between citizens and citizens - and citizens and police - would usher in a future devoid of the fear and attitude that causes me to cringe... a future enveloped in justice. ~Manny

This coming Sunday - June 14, 2020 - will mark the beginning of our return to worship at our beautiful Christ Church. Over the past several weeks, I have wondered about what the future might look like, what our common life might look like, what worship might look like, and what fellowship might look like, among many other thoughts. In all my wondering, I haven’t figured out a landing spot, but I believe that this Sunday will begin for us a process of having to figure out, both individually and in community, what our life will look like. Our plan is to begin a gradual process towards returning to worship in New Brick, and so for the rest of the month of June - weather depending - we will worship outside. Our service will begin at 10:00 a.m. each Sunday, and last about 45 minutes. We highly encourage all who desire to worship in-person to register with us either on our website, by emailing us at office@christchurchcolumbia.org, by calling 410-381-9365, or by texting 410-844-1850. This is to ensure that we have the contact tracing mechanism necessary to support any future inquiry. We will have a limited number of chairs available for those who might need them, but we ask you to please bring your own. Hand sanitizer and Offertory stations will be in several locations throughout the worship area. We will also have a canopy for those who might need some shade, but you may bring your own canopy or umbrella, if you wish. Each and every one of us will be required to wear a mask at all times, and although we ask that you bring your own mask we have been blessed by two parishioners who have donated masks for those who may not bring a mask to church. There will be very limited contact between Rector and parishioners. There will not be any handshakes or hugs. All will be encouraged to wave during the peace. Special thanks to the Buildings and Grounds Committee, who have worked extremely hard to help with our regathering. They will be marking the grounds between New Brick and Parish Hall, to help maintain our social distancing policy. We will offer printed service bulletins to everyone. In it will be an insert from the diocese, a Covenant for Regathering. The Covenant is meant to assure each of us that the safety and health of each worshipper is of prime importance to us, and by adhering to the Covenant we will not only be ensuring our own safety, but also the safety of others. We will also require that you take home with you the printed bulletins that will be given to you at church. Our worship will be brief, and limited to Spiritual Communion. It is our prayer that we will be able to offer Communion very soon. So far, it has been quite a journey for all of us. Each of us have been blessed by all of our collective prayers. I have been blessed by the support and counsel of the Wardens, Vestry, Staff, and many parishioners. We will livestream our worship this Sunday, and all Sunday worship moving forward. We will also continue to offer Morning Prayer and Evening Prayer until further notice. We are not out of the woods yet, but I want to thank each and every one of you for your continued support and prayers for our beloved Christ Church. For additional details about our COVID-19 response and any other information, please check our new website page regularly - www.christchurchcolumbia.org/renew. ~Manny

In accordance with the guidelines of Howard County and the Diocese of Maryland, we are pleased to announce Christ Church's first outdoor Holy Eucharist of the spring, taking place this Sunday, June 14th at 10 a.m. If you wish to attend, you need to fill out the registration form on our website. Masks must be worn by all congregants throughout the service, and we ask that you bring your own chair, if you can. CLICK HERE TO REGISTER We have also developed - and will continue to develop - a page containing protocols and documents to guide us, and we hope that you'll endeavor to apply yourself to these protocols. You can find them on our new COVID-19 response page, Christ Church : RENEW, here. Be sure to check back often, as this is where you can learn about our ever-developing plans as we move forward. If you would rather wait for a time in the future to worship in person, we understand. We'll continue to broadcast all upcoming Sunday worship services and weekday prayer livestreams, and you'll find those on our website and Facebook pages. No matter which you choose, we look forward to worshiping together. (Please note that if the weather is unsuitable for outdoor worship that day, this in-person gathering will be cancelled and announcements made via email, Facebook post, &/or text.)

The gift of knowing that you might be wrong - this is a tough one. How can the idea of knowing that we might be wrong be a gift? As many of you already know, our world is divided on so many different levels that I, like you, sometimes wonder how many boxes will I have to check in order to provide someone with an accurate description of who I am. The reality is, depending on the circumstances, some of us may have to check different boxes as a way of dealing with the fluidity of who we are. I think these boxes further exacerbate our divisions, because we are made to believe that we are either defined by those boxes or that our reality is shaped by those disparate separate boxes on our screen or piece of paper. The downside of these polarized and disparate, separate boxes is that we are sometimes very much convinced about the triumphalism of our peculiar boxes, lives, stories and beliefs - whatever they may be - that we see little-to-no value in the lives and beliefs of others. We are always right, and never wrong. When I first started my ministry here at Christ Church, one of the devotions that I introduced at Vestry meetings was the Listening Heart Guidelines. These were simple guidelines which opened us up to reflect on the much bigger purpose of our time together. At the beginning of each Vestry meeting, members read - one after the other, beginning from either my left or right hand - these Listening Heart Guidelines. The one guideline that always hits home, more than any other guideline, is “Hold your desires and opinions — even your convictions — lightly.” I have always wondered why, but I guess it is because of the possibility that we might be wrong. In fact, there is nothing wrong about being wrong. But there is everything wrong about being right, and never wrong. Intellectual humility centers around the gift of knowing that you might be wrong and, therefore, the need to be humble in our beliefs, our opinions, and even in our conclusions. More than that, it helps us to know our limits, and by those limits we’re able to tolerate the views of others which may be different from ours, and be enlightened by those with whom we do not agree. A few weeks ago, I wrote about Job’s Objectified Body, and in my article I shared my own fear as your pastor, and as an African American man who is susceptible to harm that was caused to Ahmaud Arbery, and now to George Floyd. As I indicated in my article, the objectified body of the African American gives room for others to inflict as much pain, and even death, on the African American. And as is often the case, pain over nothing or over something of little significance or value. Granted that George Floyd purchased something with counterfeit money; did he have to die for it? From my point of view, it takes a depraved person to believe that he can stick his knee on another person’s neck and apply pressure for eight and three-quarter minutes without inflicting any serious injury to the person. The intellectually humble person would know that that act is wrong, and that he is wrong. But here, we are not talking about an intellectually humble person. Rather, we are talking about someone whose very ethos did not support the fact that he can be wrong, or that the system under which he serves doesn’t believe he can be wrong, or that he would pay for any errors should he be wrong. I need to assure you that I would rather prefer that I do not write about issues of race, or racism, or systemic racism, or about the police brutality that has resulted in the needless death of George Floyd. But to not write or speak about these issues would also be wrong, for that would mean that I have accepted the status quo as tolerable, or that the experience of those who suffer such dehumanizing treatment at the hands of others deserve it. They do not. We can all live with this truth, that neither an unarmed George Floyd nor the likes of George Floyd should be needlessly killed by others - especially those who have sworn an oath to protect those same people. I may not agree with Rush Limbaugh 100% of the time, but I can agree with him when he says that the killing of George Floyd was “senseless.” Intellectual humility requires us to know that, although we do not have to agree 100% of the time, we acknowledge that we do not have all of the truth, and that someone else may have some of the truth that we do not have. In all cases, however, we can have a favorable opinion of those with whom we disagree. A couple of days ago, I participated in the demonstration in Columbia. It is the second of two demonstrations that I have ever participated in. The first was in Washington D.C. in early 2017, and it was about the oil pipeline on the Standing Rock Reservation in North Dakota. I participated in that because I am familiar with the challenges over there. I used to take youth from my former parish for summer mission work in Standing Rock. What surprised me about the demonstration in Columbia was that it was about 75% made of young men and women. Their speeches and poetry were exhilarating, moving, and insightful. I may hear them, but who else hears them? For many of the people who need to hear what these young people are saying, their errors may be invisible to them because they do not even believe they are wrong in the first place. Intellectual humility is about making visible our own incompetence and errors, for that is the only way we can seek to make the necessary corrections. A few days ago, George Clooney made an interesting observation by relating our present pandemic to the founding of America. He said that America has been in pandemic for over 400 years. There’s been 400 years of systemic racism. He also said that the cure is not far-fetched. It is not in a laboratory somewhere. The only way it can be made available to us is through intellectual humility. The reality is that it will require a great deal of humility on our part, but that should be acceptable. The truth is, if we truly want to know of a cure, it will require being humble enough to recognize that there are things that we simply do not know. If we are humble enough, we can accept that we truly do not know the African American experience of living 400 years of systemic racism. If we are humble enough, we can accept that the dire effects of living 400 years of systemic racism has had an adverse impact on a segment of our population. If we are humble enough, we will make an effort to know the truth about the African American experience. If we’re humble enough, we can begin to take drastic steps in dismantling the systems that have sought to perpetually place African Americans in a box they did not create, a box over which they have no control, a box that denigrates them and their bodies, and a box from which they can barely escape. Intellectual humility makes it possible for us to unlearn old habits, to re-learn new ones, and to grow. More importantly, intellectual humility begins for us the process of acknowledging our mistakes, and correcting them. Look no further for someone to start the process. It begins with you, and with me. ~Manny

It was first a text message about a sermon I preached on Pentecost Sunday, back in 2004. I honestly don’t remember the words of the sermon, but it appears to me, sixteen years later, that something about that sermon did hit a nerve and meant a lot to this parishioner whose daughter was baptized on that Sunday. The text message also alerted me to their intention to call. I quickly replied, and the call came in. We had a good laugh, catching up and reminiscing about life in Atlanta. We made plans to meet soon. During our conversation, I asked about her daughter, and how she was doing. She is now seventeen years old, and at the beginning stages of dealing with the challenges of college applications. That reminded me of my daughter Havilynd, who turns seventeen years old today, and is also dealing with the nightmare of college applications. I am very much aware that my daughter is growing into a beautiful young woman, but the reality of having a seventeen-year-old did not quite hit me until this past Monday. For those of you who have been part of the Morning Prayer livestreams since the lockdown, you might know that she has been the other voice, graciously waking up to help me. Many are the parishioners who have asked about that other voice and expressed appreciation for her waking up at 7:00 a.m. to be the other voice at Morning Prayer. She has come a long way, and I often refer to her as a miracle baby who, but for a fly in a margarita, might have been aborted. It so happened that her mother, some friends, and I went to a restaurant in Atlanta for dinner. Not knowing that she was pregnant, Monique ordered a margarita, which came in a noticeably big glass. This is the strange part: when the margarita was served to Monique, and just before she put her mouth on the straw, she noticed a big house fly in the margarita. Wow!! How did that get in the drink? It was in the evening., the restaurant did not have open windows or doors, nor was there outdoor seating. We immediately called the server, who apologized profusely for the fly in the margarita. She also could not figure out how the fly got there. Then to my surprise, when the waiter told Monique she would fix another margarita for her, she said, "no." She only took water that evening. It still remains a mystery how the fly got into the margarita. One thing we are certain of is that if Monique had had that margarita that evening, I am not sure that we will be talking about the other voice today. A cynic may respond that it was simply an accident and may not be able to offer a convincing response to why Monique decided not to have another drink. But I am not a cynic. I am a person of faith, and I look at the entirety of my life through the lens of faith. In my view, the best way that I can appreciate the curves of life and understand the little miracles that happens in my life is to notice the hand of Providence in every single little aspect and moment of my life - both good and bad. I believe that failure to do so means looking at only one side of the coin and acting as if the other side is nonexistent, or simply hearing your own voice and not the other voice. A few days ago, a parishioner sent me a music video. I do not know the title to the music, but I’d like to share it with you: Life is easy, when you are up on the mountain, and you have got peace of mind, like you have never known. But things change when you are down in the valley. Do not lose faith. For you are never alone. For the God on the mountain, is still God in the valley. When things go wrong, He will make them right. And the God of the good times, is still God in the bad times. The God of the day is still God in the night. You talk of faith when you are up on the mountain. But talk comes so easy when life’s at its best. Now its down in the valley of trials and temptations. That where your faith is really put to the test. For the God on the mountain, is still God in the valley. When things go wrong, He will make them right. And the God of the good times, is still God in the bad times. The God of the day is still God in the night. I share the words and the video, especially at this most perilous time of all our lives when we have lost over one hundred thousand of our friends, neighbors, and loved ones to COVID-19. Many more are those who have been stricken and are fighting for their lives. Many more are those who are exposed to being infected by the virus. But in all these, we are not to lose faith, for the God of the mountain is also the God of the valley, and the God of the good times is also the God of the bad times. And as Paul reminds us in his First Letter to the Thessalonians, Pray without ceasing. Give thanks in every circumstance, for this is God’s will for you in Jesus Christ. I rejoice in the fact that we are beginning to see some light at the end of the tunnel. Some restrictions are being lifted tomorrow, and all things being equal we will soon be able to gather for worship. We are all working together and will provide further information as the days go by. But for a fly in a margarita, there might not have been, nor might you have heard, that other voice over the past several weeks. You, yourself, also may have experienced a miracle in your life. I may not know how big or how small, but it is a miracle, nonetheless. We may not realize in the moment that a miracle occurs. But we may only see and feel the depth of our miracles only when we look back. And when you look back like we did at those days following that dinner, may you also be filled with gratitude for the fly in your margarita. ~Manny

For the past several weeks, I have been hosting Virtual Coffee Hours on Tuesday and Thursday afternoons, and on some Sundays after worship. This coming Sunday, we will host the Friends of Sabina from Uganda on Zoom. The goal of these Coffee Hour meetings is to check-in with one another, and to make sure that each parishioner is doing well and staying safe. Conversations go the full gamut. Nothing is off-topic. A few days ago on one such gathering, Patricia Fanning shared with me an article that she read in the New York Times about Ms. Tanisha Brunson-Malone. Ms. Brunson-Malone, 41, is a forensic technician at the Hackensack University Medical Center (HUMC). She works at the hospital’s morgue, performing autopsies and overseeing the pickups by funeral homes of patients who have died. Ms. Brunson-Malone visits Metropolitan Plant and Flower Exchange in Paramus, New Jersey a couple of times each week, picks up yellow daffodils, and then brings them to her work at HUMC. This is the part where the story gets a little interesting - she takes the yellow daffodils with her to the morgue - which is in a trailer sitting on a car park - and on each newly-deceased person's body bag, she prayerfully lays a yellow daffodil on top. "Why?" you may ask. Interestingly, she does not know any of the deceased. She is not related to any of them by blood. She spends about $100.00 each week to purchase these yellow daffodils. The reality is that she is not supposed to extend any such gesture to the deceased; after all, they are dead. To go a little further is not part of her job, yet she does it anyway. Even more surreal is that she does not place those yellow daffodils on the basis of who is in which body bag, rather that she simply places a yellow daffodil on each because each person bore within them the dignity and image of the living God. Although not articulated in the article, I found a latent embrace of a kind of dignity which she accorded the deceased. She offered to the deceased that which a loved one could not offer - not for lack of will, but because of COVID-19. In her mind, if only because she could offer something, those yellow daffodils tell the larger story of a dignified human being who is created after the image of God. To be made after the image of God is to be scarred with the wound of transcendence. This means that we are not limited by any of the categories that often define who we are. We can transcend any one of those categories with a touch of compassion. The wound of transcendence moves us beyond what we can do, and towards what we must do. The wound of transcendence acknowledges an all-embracing imprint: the imago Dei that humans are made in the image of God and are stamped with divinity, and that knowledge is the key which releases us from the binding power of all other imprints. This imprint of the divine in each of us simply means that no matter what happens to us - whether we are shaken by the effects of this pandemic, have lost loved ones whom we never got the chance to say our good-byes, have lost jobs and businesses, couldn’t go to the prom or hold graduation ceremonies to mark a major milestones in our lives, or are feeling depressed and emotionally drained - the last word has not been spoken about us because we are still open and unfinished. The imprint of the divine simply means that we are made for love, by love. We are pilgrims of a transcendent God who continually invites us to go beyond ourselves, to see no limitation in being compassionate. Ms. Brunson-Malone went beyond herself, beyond her call of duty to offer yellow daffodils of dignity. What I find so compelling about her kind gesture is that it reflects the length with which others go to make life meaningful, fulfilling, and dignified for others - especially the sick. Ms. Brunson-Malone represents to me all the many different faces of our first responders - doctors, nurses, pharmacists, technicians, paramedics and all those who have put their lives on the line to care for those who have been affected by COVID-19. Some of these first responders are our neighbors, spouses, friends, parents, children, and parishioners. I have nothing but absolute respect for their dedication and hard work. Today is Ascension Day. This is the day we celebrate the completion of Jesus’ earthly ministry and his ascension into heaven. I said in my brief homily this morning that anything that has a beginning has an end, but also that the end is also the beginning of something new, something different. The new and different for you and I is the idea that God’s spirit continually fools us out of our limitations, makes us pioneers beyond the womb, and bearers of the transforming Holy Spirit. The creative among us, like Ms. Brunson-Malone, are those who carry within themselves the sign that human beings are more than they think they are, and for the sake of compassion, carry with them yellow daffodils of dignity. ~Manny

Today, I am moved into writing about Job - the central figure in the Old Testament Book of Job. He was a wealthy man who had lost everything. He was inflicted with such devastation that his body was not only covered with terrible skin sores, but it was also objectified, and those who knew him could not help themselves in ridiculing him. I write about Job partly because of our present predicament under our pandemic, but more so about the objectification of his body. Job’s body was so destroyed and degraded to the extent that there was no difference between his body and the dirt upon which he spent his days. In spite of dire his suffering, he looks to a tree as a symbol of his hope in his eventual vindication by God. In Job 14:7, he says, “At least there is hope for a tree: If it is cut down, it will sprout again, and its new shoots will not fail.” Job is not talking about grafting; I am not sure if it was an agricultural technique back then. Rather, Job is referring to a new growth, new life that emerges out of an old, dead life. In Job 19:26, he continues: “And after my skin has been destroyed, yet in my flesh I will see God.” If, indeed, new life is possible, he says, then even in his weakened, destroyed, objectified body he shall see God; his very eyes shall see God. Job concludes with these words: “How my heart yearns within me.” Job is hopeful, for his heart yearns for a kind of vindication which only God can offer. This is the yearning that I feel within me as I reflect on the present circumstances of our world. I yearn for a hopeful future, one where the anxieties of the world are overcome, where an awakened life is ever possible and, where we can at the barest minimum, recognize and affirm the dignity of EVERY human being. I believe that the point of life is that life can sprout from a tree that has been cut - literally. For wherein lies human hope if we’re only defined by dead trees, or traces of old habits that refuse to die, even in the face of a pandemic. I am sure many of you have recently heard about Ahmad Arbery, an African American man whose life was cut short by a father and son who suspected him of being a thief. You and I are familiar with the way in which the African American body - the Black body - has been objectified, castigated, ridiculed, demeaned, and trampled upon. For that reason, some people feel empowered to take the lives of African Americans while hoping there wouldn’t be any consequences. Yes, some may say, that there’s Black-on-Black crime; I agree, and there’s no excuse for that. In fact, there’s no excuse for Black-on-Black violence, White-on-White violence, Black-on-White violence or White-on-Black violence. However, in as much as there’s no place or excuse for any type of violence perpetrated on anyone, the motivation underlying a particular type of violence shouldn’t be lost on us.  I am not speaking as an African American, but simply as a decent human being like yourself. Our feelings may be akin to the feelings of Job. Our hearts yearn within us. For how can we explain how an African American man - one who simply goes for a jog, did not offend anyone, did not invite any trouble - gets shot by a father and a son? How do we explain how this father and son felt Ahmad Arbery didn’t deserve to be? I can only surmise that when they saw him alone - when they saw the body with which he jogged, the body they derided and scorned - they simply couldn’t contain their anger towards the man whose Black body was a little too much for them. And thinking that no one was watching, they attacked him, pulled a gun and shot him dead. Why? To add insult to injury, the local authorities who have been sworn to protect EVERYONE attempted to cover the details up on behalf of the suspects. They, too, we can argue, share in the sentiments of this father and son - for to cover-up is an homage they all pay to the tribe. The honest truth is that the African American experience often feels desperate and dire; you have to live it to believe it. The reality is that you don’t have to be guilty or not guilty, you only need to wear the objectified body - like Job. As difficult as it may sound, I share this honest truth as your Pastor, because I also carry the same objectified Black body which Ahmad had, and I can never tell when or how I may also fall victim to similar treatment. That is a fear that I carry with me. A few weeks ago, I wrote - precisely because of the way COVID-19 has exposed our collective vulnerability - that maybe this is the time to rethink some of the biases we carry with us, and then vow to rephrase our narrative and approach to all people. We simply cannot carry on with life as if nothing ever happened. To do so would mean we haven’t learnt any lesson from this trauma. Am I feeling hopeless? Absolutely not. There is a hope that burns within, and that hope feels like a tree that can sprout again. I believe, ever strongly, that the hope which burns within the heart of many well-meaning people is their belief in life, a renewed life that touches every soul with the promise of dignity, of respect, and of honor. Job lost children, property, and a lot more. His body was destroyed. But if there ever was any hope for a tree that has been cut, then “Hope springs eternal in every human breast,” so says Alexander Pope in his poem Essay on Man. I haven’t given up on the dream of a dignified future and life, and neither should you. In my relatively young life, I have come to learn that you are as young as hope, or as old as hopelessness. You are as young as the faith you have, or as old as your own doubts. I choose to be young - faithful and hopeful in any human Body - whether objectified or not. ~Manny

In celebration and appreciation of all mothers everywhere, the Women of Christ Church have put on their favorite "Hats for Mother's Day" and we have gotten quite a few wonderful photos in honor and in memory of those very special people. Mothers come as all sorts - whether familial, or step, or single, or foster, or symbolic, and everything in between - and you deserve all of the praise, gratitude, and love of the day - every one of you. And thanks to the WOCC for making it extra special during this time when we are all apart a bit more than we'd like. Have a very Happy Mother's Day weekend!

I am always amazed at the folks who do walk on tightropes. The kind of balance, mental acuity, discipline, self-control, grit, and determination that it takes to accomplish that task is a trait that you and I can only dream of. There is an Australian, Kane Peterson, who, as part of the stunt, laid down for a bit on the tightrope, got up and walked the rest of the three hundred meters. I could not even stand watching videos of Nik Wallenda walking across the Niagara Falls. A part of me thinks that as amazing as the feat was, you've got to be crazy - in a good way - to dream and walk the tightrope across any distance. Many of us are still going through a rollercoaster of emotions during this pandemic. We do not know what to do anymore. Our lives seem a little stuck. Being confined to our own homes has been torturous. It is as if we are walking on a tightrope across the Niagara Falls - we can see the beginning, we can see the rope, and we can see the end from a distance, but we’re not sure how, and if, we will get there in peace. Many are the words of encouragement we have heard. Many are the words of comfort that have been shared with us, and that we have offered to others. Many are the words of support that have been offered to us, and we have, in turn, offered to others. All of these are meant to help mitigate the emotional, mental, and psychological effects of the pandemic on us, and meant to create a semblance of normalcy. A lot of us are not doing well; we are simply living…but we want to thrive. One of the disturbing fallouts has been the rise in domestic violence. Couples are overreacting over things that don’t even matter; couples are using partners as an outlet, a punching bag for their frustration. Couples cannot help manage their own disappointment and anger over the financial toll of this pandemic. But we want to thrive, and we want our love ones to thrive, as well. As dire as our situation may be, not as many words of support and comfort would help if we are not prepared and willing to take the necessary step that would bring the needed peace in our lives and in our homes. Yes, the stress level is high. Anxiety is through the roof. Impatience is rampant. The uncertainty of walking on a tightrope is killing, as if we are like a keg that's ready to explode. But I do not want you to discount your role in making things work. I do not want you to downplay your role in making things better for you, and for your family. As meaningful an exhortation as you may hear and read, YOU are the one who must make that decision about whether you want to employ what you have heard or read. I am sure you have heard it said before that you can lead a horse to water, but you cannot force it to drink. That’s why the onus is on you to create that peace of a home. I want to share with you a story about a highly-skilled gymnast in Canada who was an expert at walking the tightrope. Many times, he had walked a thin rope between the peaks of two high mountains. Each performance attracted huge crowds who marveled at his poise, balance, skill, and prowess. One day, he decided to jazz up his act by adding a new element of danger. He would do the tightrope walk while pushing a wheelbarrow. The news went out, and everyone looked forward to his next event with great excitement and anticipation. As the big day drew nearer, the gymnast started to get nervous. He realized that pushing a wheelbarrow would be more dangerous, as he would not be able to stretch out his hands to maintain balance as the rope bounced about. What if he could not do it? What if he fell a hundred feet to his death? The night before the big event, he went over to his best friend's house and confessed his fears. His friend reminded him of all the other times the gymnast had overcome great odds to achieve great things. His friend patted him on the back and said, "I believe in you, and I'm with you every step of the way." The gymnast started to feel confident again. "Thank you," he said to his friend. "So, since you have so much faith in me, would you like to sit in the wheelbarrow when I do the crossover tomorrow?" The friend held the gymnast by the shoulders, looked him in the eye and said, "Not a flaming chance in hell. Are you crazy?" There is no doubt that encouragement and praise as morale boosters are great. They fuel our courage and spur our imagination. It is always worth having those around us who believe in us. They create in us more than the motivation and the drive to make it; they also reduce our fears and calm our nerves. However, in spite of the boatload of faith people have in you, encouragement and motivation are not substitutes for effort - they cannot do the job for YOU. I learned, many years ago, that heaven helps those who help themselves. And, so in as much as we rely on the counsel, encouragement, and direction of well-meaning people, the real work depends on us. And the moment we embrace the reality that the hard work of walking the tightrope depends on YOU, the more we can embrace the idea that the other is not crazy, and neither are we. ~Manny