There’s a popular expression: ‘What goes around, comes around’. It’s slang for ‘You reap what you sow'. In my experience, however, the phrase is invariably used negatively, as a warning, a lesson drawn from a cautionary tale. Thomas à Kempis put it more positively: “Whatsoever is done out of pure love, be it ever so little or contemptible in human sight, is wholly fruitful; for God measures more with how much love you work, than the amount you do.” It is safe to argue that Thomas gave much more weight to a small act that is driven by love, than to one which may be larger but is devoid of any semblance of love. There’s a simple lesson we can draw from this: never underestimate the amount of good that one humble, kind word or deed can do. But there’s a more significant lesson, one that goes even further: that goodness is more infectious than evil. Saint Augustine teaches us that, in the end, what’s wrong with evil is that it won’t finally exist; it may inflict unimaginable pain on us or our loved ones, or it may destroy us and our families, but it is of no lasting purchase or value. Good, on the other hand, is a token or signifier of what will last forever. Good forever triumphs over evil. I am yet to watch a movie or hear a story which didn’t ultimately conclude with a triumph of the best of us - the good. One of the headaches of any parent is the possibility of their child falling into bad company. This worrying stems from the belief that evil is infectious and that by keeping the wrong company, it is likely that a child may end up being one. But the inspiring thing about Thomas a Kempis’ words is this: it’s not evil that’s infectious, it’s good. A good deed or gesture is like a mark in indelible ink: once made, it can never be eradicated. It’s written in the blood of Christ. A good deed is like one of those markers with which a child from Lake Elkhorn Middle School will inscribe his or her name on a paper, a notebook, or a textbook. That is why this particular week has become a moment of pride for me. Over the past year, we have seen a significant increase in the outreach by members of Christ Church to Lake Elkhorn Middle School. Some of us, for example, participate in the mentorship program and help with homework. Christ Church also provides gift cards to incentivize parents, and supplies snacks for parent workshops on a monthly basis. Beginning with this coming school year, we hope to extend our outreach by supporting teacher and staff celebrations, and to honor them on their birthdays. This will be our attempt to extend the depth of our appreciation to those teachers and staff who give their best in this life-transforming work. I remain extremely thankful to all of you for your generosity, support and dedication. It fills me with the deepest joy to know that our parish family will be providing LEMS with one hundred and fifty backpacks stuffed with all the necessary school supplies required by the Howard County Public School System. This is such an incredible feat for our congregation and, as I said in my sermon last Sunday, we are not obligated to undertake this task but rather we are willing and happy to support the children because we believe in God’s future for each child. Similarly, we also affirm this idea that good is infectious, and that the good which goes around comes around. With almost all of our shopping concluded, we will all gather as a community to meticulously stuff seventy-five of the backpacks each on the Sundays of August 18th and 25th, from 9:15-10:15 a.m., filling them with all of the necessary supplies. I have no doubt in my mind that you would want to be a part of this exciting moment in our common life, and hope that you'll join us. Good IS infectious, and the good that goes around, does surely come around. For me, the most important thing is the smile that lights up a child’s face because of the goodness or kindness of an adult. That is what drives me - that a kid can tell that someone - a stranger - cares so much about him or her. Always remember that the good you do is the most viable and visible way in which God uses you to perfect His creation. And that the good, which is infectious, has the ability to light up a child’s world. I've learned that every day may not be good, but there's something good in every day. May you be that something... may you all continue to be infectious. ~Manny

She was among the many who succumbed to the hail of bullets from her brother. It most likely never crossed her mind that she would be shot by her brother. Perhaps neither did he imagine that his sister would be one of his victims. Maybe, just maybe, if he knew his sister was in the crowd, that would have made a difference. We may never know for sure, but what we do know is on that single evening in Dayton, Ohio, a mother and father lost two children through an act of violence perpetrated by one of them. Several other mothers and fathers also lost their children that same night, by the hands of that same man. Across the country in El Paso, Texas, another gunman - raging with hatred and pent-up anger - walked into a Walmart and shot at least twenty-two people to death. Among his victims was a seventy-seven-year-old man who took a bullet for the sake of his wife. As the gunman shot his victims, a soldier was also busily working to shield children from the hatred that spewed from that WASR-10 rifle. For the life of me, I find it difficult to imagine how people reach a point in their lives where another person’s life is of such little to no value that they can perpetrate any act of violence towards them. Families across America are hurting; they wail in the middle of the night in silence, for it appears they have lost their voices. Families lie on their beds, and stare at their ceilings in hopelessness. Many are those who wonder, "What can we do about this recurring menace?" or, "What should our political leaders do about this menace?" I am always reminded of a story about Senator Rob Portman, a Republican from Ohio. He is a man I have come to respect. He was against gay marriage, against the adoption of children by gay parents, and voted for a constitutional amendment against gay marriage. However, an incident happened in his life that caused him to change his position. That incident involved his son. His middle child came out as gay and, for that reason, he changed his mind. I believe he came to realize that, because his opposition was no longer theoretical nor about others, but was against his own son, he changed his mind. "Well," you may ask, "what has Senator Portman changing his mind got to do with gun violence?" A lot. The terrible tragedy we all face is the assumption that we are somewhat insulated from any act of gun violence. We might say: we live in a suburb, our homes are secured, our children’s schools are secured with an officer on standby. We convince ourselves with all sorts of platitudes that are meant to comfort us into thinking that no such act would be committed against us. And I agree. But if you think about these issues more deeply, you will come to realize that the El Paso killings were at a Walmart, the Dayton massacre was at a bar, Sandy Hook was at a school, the 2018 Pittsburgh killings were in a Synagogue, and the 2015 Charleston killings were in a church. Sara Kirkpatrick, Christ Church's Junior Warden, recently attended a seminar on how churches and different organizations should respond to the epidemic of gun violence. The reality is that these perpetrators choose easy targets, places where they can inflict the most damage on the most people. I have these questions for your consideration: are you planning on not going to the Columbia Mall during the holidays? Are you planning on not going to Walmart any longer? Are you planning on eating at home for the rest of your life? Are you planning on not ever visiting a theater to see a good movie? Are you planning on no longer worshiping at Christ Church, or any other church? Maybe you can protect yourself, but can you protect your children through all the days of their lives? No, you cannot. Can you protect your loved ones and grandchildren all the same? No, you cannot. At some point, they also would all become vulnerable to these very things we see happen to other people. And, insofar as neither you nor anyone you know can completely insulate themselves from gun violence, you do not need to wait to be a victim before you speak out or change your mind on an issue - as Senator Portman did. You can change your mind, but you don’t have to wait until it comes a little too close to home. There’s a West African story of a man who had so many insurmountable problems at home that he sought the help of a fetish priest in dealing with his many issues. After narrating all his problems to the fetish priest, the priest asked the gentleman to return in two weeks with some samples of dirt from his compound. On the appointed day, the gentleman returned to see the priest with the sample of dirt. After performing his rituals, the priest said to him, "I don't know if you can handle hearing this." The man responded, "Go ahead. I want to hear it." The fetish priest then said to him, "Your two boys are not your sons, your daughter is seeing five different men, and your wife is pregnant from your own brother. The man looked incredulously at the fetish priest, and burst out in laughter. The fetish priest was bemused, and asked him, "Why are you laughing? These are some very serious issues that you are dealing with, so why are you laughing?" The man then said to the priest, "I was running late on my way to see you and I forgot to bring the dirt sample, so I dug out some dirt from your compound." The priest couldn’t believe his ears. We've all heard cries similar to the sister’s cry of agony, but most of us have become like this fetish priest, offering diagnoses about others when those diagnoses are really about us. The problem isn’t solely with the two recent gunmen, or any other perpetrator of gun violence; the real problem is about a society that has to endure these perennial violent acts perpetrated upon its people - defenseless people, if I may add - and a society that appears to tolerate these acts with the offers of thoughts and prayers, and then tragically move on as if nothing ever happened. You know why? Because it isn’t close enough to home, yet. I am not advocating for the abolition of gun rights, for I know many responsible people who own guns. But my burning question is, "Is it at all possible, is it within the framework of human imagination to have sensible gun laws which would, at the barest minimum, ensure that you and I and the people we love can go about shopping, eating, drinking, worshiping, dancing, learning, and living in an environment where they don’t have to wonder about the next gunman? If it is possible, then why don’t we do it? Where is that courage and moral fortitude?" Bear in mind, none of us are truly insulated from any of these tragedies, and we do not have to wait until we become a victim, or a loved one becomes a victim, before we fight for the change that is necessary. By then, it might be a little too late. A sister’s cry echoes through Dayton today, and throughout the country. But it appears lost in the midst of a cacophony of screams we hear at the bar, at Walmart, and in many other places. But we hear it nonetheless. The good thing is we hear the cry. And whenever we hear a cry, as faint or as loud as it may be, we are moved by compassion to act. I hope this cry will move us to act. I hope. ~Manny

Many a grandparent, granduncles and aunts, parents, uncles and aunts may not only to have had to sing Baby Shark, but also engage themselves in the antics of this popular children song. What is this song about? Why is it so popular? In actual fact, Washington Nationals left fielder Gerardo Parra’s walkup music is Baby Shark and, according to him, his two-year-old daughter loves it and sings it often. The moment the song began, everyone at the ballpark stood up. My host, for whom I remain thankful, also stood up and invited me to stand, and before long everyone was singing and dancing to the unique antics of the song. What fun it was for me! But what real fun it is to be enchanted with a song, the unique dance of a song and the plain simple joy of being a child again. There’s something amazing about being a child; it is fascinating, and you only needed to have been a child once to know what joy it can be to be one. We dote on our children, grandchildren, grandnephews and nieces - and, in fact, on children who bear no familial relationship with us - and we also seek to protect them from harm. We like to offer them all that they need to be comfortable and to thrive. We dote on ourselves as we would a child. Some have said that adults like to play with toys - the only difference is that theirs are a little more expensive. At the ballpark that evening were many adults and children - 37,491 in all. And within each of us sat a child - that wonderful, innocent child for whom being at the ballpark is an opportunity for fellowship, food, and drinks. Behind me sat three middle-aged women who were acquainted with each other. I could hear snippets of their conversation, and their occasional burst of laughter would cause me to look back. You could tell from the excitement on their faces that they were just happy to be with each other - fellowship, the desire of a child. To my left was a gentleman in a Dodgers shirt sitting next to an acquaintance in a Nationals shirt - we don’t have to support the same team to be friends. Every now and then, this Dodgers fan would cuss; he didn’t know he was sitting by a priest, but that is beside the point. His disappointment over a bad play by the Dodgers was all too palpable, and equally exuberant was his excitement when the Dodgers would make a good play. His was a reflection of the indeterminate and unpredictable nature of children - and of you and I. A Korean family sat in the row of seats directly in front of me, and two rows down were a number of Korean young couples, one of whom was holding a Korean flag. My host shared with me the fact that there was a Korean, Hyun-Jin Ryu, on the Dodgers team. Their cheering was one of cheering a ‘tribal’ idol. Like children, we all have idols. We look up to our idols, and we look to be shaped by the values that guide them in their lives. "Make some noiiiise!", came the sound from the speakers, and we all did. When a ball is hit so hard that it travels into the stands, like the competitive child in us, each fan attempts to catch the ball. One ball came very close to me, only three rows in front. It was caught by an older man who, I believe, gave it to a child. When t-shirts are being thrown to the crowd, each person competes with others to catch one. The thrill that exists in all of these experiences tells of our childlike selves - the playful part of each person, whether a child or an adult. In reading the story about Jesus encouraging his friends to allow the children come to him - yes, for theirs is the kingdom of God - it's clear that he wasn’t being condescending about it. He was keenly aware that within each of us sits a child... that pure, innocent child who doesn’t mind singing Baby Shark, dancing to Baby Shark, who thrives on fellowship with others, loves to chatter with friends, cries over his or her feelings being hurt by another, easily forgives, and loves unconditionally. There is a proverb which, when translated literally, means “No one teaches a child about God." . In other words, every single child has a deep sense of awareness of God. The child may not be able to articulate what he or she thinks about God, knows about God, what God means to him or her, or anything else about God. Nonetheless, that awareness is ever-so-present. That is why we continually have to be invited to believe, even in the midst of our unbelief. It is for a good reason that we do not lose that child in us. When Paul talks about putting childhood things behind, he doesn’t mean losing the child within. So, hold on to the child in you. Much as you would need it at the ballpark, you would also need it as you come to faith…not as one who understands the full context thereof, but as one who is eager to learn like a child, walk like a child, talk like a child, and even sing and dance to Baby Shark like a child. ~Manny

Last week, we held the first of our two summer Book Club gatherings. I am thankful to the Spiritual Life Commission for organizing it, to Ellen and Charlie for hosting it, and to the many people who came out on a rainy Wednesday evening to share in the fellowship and discussion. We had a very good discussion, and I enjoyed every bit of it. I was unusually quiet, as I've learned it sometimes pays to have others do the talking while you do the listening. In the early pages of the book, I came upon this story that I'd like to share with you: It once happened that the people of a West African tribe noticed their cows were giving less milk than they used to. They couldn’t understand why. One young man volunteered to stay up all night to see what might be happening. After several hours of waiting in the darkness, hiding in a bush, he saw something extraordinary. A young woman of astonishing beauty rode a moonbeam down from heaven to earth, carrying a large pail. She milked the cows, filled her pail, and climbed back up the moonbeam to the sky. The man could not believe what he had seen. The next night, he set a trap near where the cows were kept, and when the maiden came down to milk the cows, he sprang the trap and caught her. “Who are you?” He demanded. She explained that she was Sky Maiden, a member of a tribe that lived in the sky and had no food of their own. It was her job to come to earth at night and find food. She pleaded with him to let her out of the net, and then she would do anything he asked. The man said he would release her only if she agreed to marry him. “I will marry you” she said, “but first you must let me go home for three days to prepare myself. Then I will return and be your wife." He agreed. Three days later she returned, carrying a large box. “I will be your wife and make you very happy,” she told him, “but you must promise me never to look inside this box.” For several weeks, they were very happy together. Then one day while his wife was out, the man was overcome with curiosity and opened the box. There was nothing in it. When the woman came back, she saw her husband looking strangely at her, and she said, “You looked in the box, didn’t you?” “Why?’ the man asked. “What’s so terrible about my peeking into an empty box?” He asked. The woman responded that she was leaving the man. "I am not leaving you because you opened the box; I thought you probably would. I’m leaving you because you said it was empty. It wasn’t empty; it was full of sky. It contained the light and the air and the smells of my home in the sky. When I went home for the last time, I filled that box with everything that was most precious to me to remind me of where I came from. How can I be your wife if what is most precious to me is emptiness to you?” I have, since reading the story, reflected long and hard about the Empty Box - the idea that the very thing which proffers meaning and value to one person may be regarded as empty and meaningless by another person, especially someone so dear. Indeed, we all see things differently, and we may interpret the same quantity of water in a glass as either being half-empty or half-full. But nothing so diminishes a person than the suggestion that his or her gifts - that which offers true meaning, or the piece that he or she cherishes as defining who they are - may hold little to no value to another, or that their box is empty because that’s only what the other sees. Remember, your eyes can also play tricks on you!! Beyond that, there may also be times when we are tempted to characterize our own boxes as being empty. Those are the moments when self-doubt, pessimism, or 'doom and gloom' take over us and turn the things that we ought to value into things of no benefit. Or, worse still, material possessions may blind us and so prevent us from fullness of our own lives, and that of others. No one has an empty box. No one person’s cherished box is insignificant. Each box is full of something; it may not be visible to us, but it is nonetheless full of something valuable and meaningful. As a community of faith, our question is, "How can we faithfully serve if we consider a box to be empty?" No box is an empty one; each box holds something special, valuable, precious, and significant. However big or small that box may be, it is never empty, and for that reason you can cherish service to others, not as the giving of a half-empty self but as giving more than the self - the fullness of you, the box, if you will. I’d like to conclude with an African proverb: “Not everyone who chased the zebra caught it, but he who caught it, chased it.” In much the same way as to catch a zebra is to chase it, so is your box and another’s box full of amazing gifts, talents, promises and affirmations. You only have to open your eyes wide enough to see it. ~Manny

This past Sunday, I saw two of our 10:30 a.m. regulars at the 8:00 a.m. service. I wondered why, and so I asked each of them why they worshiped at the 8:00 a.m. service. Both of them shared with me that they wanted to get worship out of the way so they could watch the Women’s World Cup soccer game between the United States and the Netherlands. One of the parishioners explained to me that her husband would be at the 10:30 a.m. service. True to her word, the husband was at the 10:30 service, and when I shared what the wife had said to me, he indicated that he prefers to watch the game from the midpoint to the end, as opposed to watching it from the beginning to the end. I, myself, didn’t watch the game but I was nonetheless elated with the win - the fourth United States World Cup championship win. In a very special way, the win was more like a gift to every American as we celebrated our 243rd year of independence. Soccer in America has come a long way and, most certainly, women’s soccer has been extraordinary. There are women who are playing at the highest level of soccer, and that reminds me of a story that I heard about a man who was dropping his son and a friend at soccer practice. In the course of their conversation, he heard the son ask his friend, “Who's better... boys or girls?” Without any hesitation, the friend responded “Can girls play soccer?” The topic was resolved, for in their minds boys are better because girls can’t play soccer. In the minds of these two little boys was an embedded reality fueled by an unhealthy resolution that boys are better than girls because boys can play soccer. If they had seen the women play at the just-ended World Cup, they would have arrived at a different conclusion. If they, and many others like them, had ever seen women play at the highest level of soccer, they may well change their attitude towards gender equality and neutrality in general, and not just in soccer. In the most strident way, Paul argues in the Letter to the Galatians that “There is neither Jew nor Gentile, neither slave nor free, nor is there male and female, for you are all one in Christ Jesus.” The idea of being one in Christ is against the backdrop of a society that would have used the same language to lift up boys over girls, simply because boys play soccer and girls did not. This same idea of equality between genders has long existed in Hinduism, probably before Paul wrote his letter to the Galatians. In Hinduism, the Atma - which is the Soul - is separate from the body, and is neither young nor old, neither male nor female. In actual fact, by virtue of the belief reincarnation, the Atma experiences life sometimes in a male body, sometimes in a female body, thus allowing each a chance to develop and imbibe the values of each gender. For this reason, the Gita encourages us to see every human being, and indeed every creature in nature, equally in terms of their spiritual identity as an individual soul. Indeed, there are physiological and psychological differences between the genders, but Hindu spirituality regards these as complementary, and not competitive. And so in Hindu temples, for example, the divine is portrayed as the unity of female and male forms, and such equanimity is the goal and purpose of spirituality. Over the years, our own cultural and theological presuppositions have led us to embrace an attitude which affirms the conclusion of the two boys. Our systemic failure to embrace the principle of equanimity between genders has led to income disparity, gender bias in leadership positions, workplace issues, and sexual harassment - among other ills - against girls and women. So, who's better: boys or girls? I cannot look at my three beautiful daughters or any other girl and, for whatever reason, conclude that my boy - or any other boy, for that matter - is better than any one of them. The Women’s World Cup has addressed the question of whether women can play soccer. In my mind, girls and women are champions, not only because of soccer but because of the idea that girls are not worse or better than boys; each is inherently the same - complementary, and not competitive. I’d like to see spiritual philosophy similarly challenge these negative religious and cultural ideas so as to help us further nurture gender equality and complementarity. Yes, we all ARE champions!! And so may this championship increase this awareness of our complementarity. ~Manny

It was about 5:30 a.m. The sun was rising, breaking through the darkness with commanding sunlight. On some mornings, the African sun can be incredibly piercing. There was already a long queue when I arrived at the American Embassy in Accra, Ghana. I joined the line for the long wait until the embassy offices were to open at 9:00 a.m. You may ask, "Why 5:30 a.m.?" There are all sorts of superstitious theories about getting in early, and so I arrived early for my second appointment, having been declined a visa at my first appointment. As I stood in line outside of the embassy in the early morning blazing sunlight, there was a sudden loud shout: “Praise the Lord.” Many of those in the line responded, “Alleluia.” In my utter amazement, I turned round to see who it was that shouted “Praise the Lord.” But before long, this person had made same proclamation about three or four times. He then proceeded to pray for all who were seeking visas to the United States, preached, and then took an offering. I was stupefied. I couldn’t believe my eyes. It may be that, because I arrived at about 9:00 a.m. for my first appointment, I missed the spectacle; the preacher had already left. During the offering, every single person in the line - including me - gave an offering with the hope and prayer that their application for a visa would be granted them. I was lucky at my second try, but I don’t know about all of the others who had an appointment at the embassy that morning. Over the past several months, we have heard stories upon stories of people walking hundreds of miles to get to the United States. One of the moving stories was the tragedy of a father who attempted to swim the Rio Grande River with his daughter; both drowned. We have also heard stories about immigrants who have been detained at the boarder, some separated from their families, and some who have had to deal with some of the harshest conditions. Some children were asked to choose between mother and father! I am an immigrant, and I identify with every single person who desires to reach this great country to seek a better life for himself, herself and their families. Do I believe people need to come in through the most appropriate and legal way? Yes, I do. Do I believe that the border should be porous? No, I do not. I believe in the rule of law and, to an extent, what immigrants like myself flee from has been the lip service that our political leaders pay towards the rule of law. This lip service has meant that our home countries have become poorly-run, our societies appear broken, devastation surrounds us, limited opportunities rob many a bright and intelligent person of decent jobs and advancement, while corruption denies the incentive to serve. I can hear the cry of a little boy or girl who sits on their father’s shoulder, or being carried by a mother, or walking all these miles towards the United States. I can feel the anguish of a young man or woman who has graduated from school, and harbors the desire to work, yet can't find none. I can see the fear on the faces of people whose basic security has been compromised by unruly gangs roaming their cities and neighborhoods. I can hear the silent groans of a mother or father who can’t afford to protect or feed their children. It is heartbreaking!! In response to all the hopelessness that surrounds them, they flee by walking north. We cannot minimize the desperate nature of their walk to the southern border of the United States. For me, that walk is akin to the desperate journeying of Europeans to the coast of this great land. They, too, were fleeing from wars, diseases, religious intolerance, political conflicts and socioeconomic conditions that had made life a little unbearable. They too, were looking for a place where they could start anew, a place where they can start afresh, building new communities and lives for their children. Thank God they succeeded in building this great country, not be themselves alone, but with the sweat and labor of people from Africa who were forcibly brought to these shores. For me, the important issue is, whether our ancestors journeyed here on Mayflower, Brookes (Slave ship), steamships, planes, or by foot, one of the values we have all learned about America - the shining city on the hill with its light like the morning sun which breaks into our darkness - is one of welcoming the immigrant stranger and offering him or her, the opportunity to contribute to the building of this wonderful human story. Nowhere has this idea been captured more poignantly than by the words chiseled on a plaque, and installed inside the pedestal of the Statue of Liberty: Give me your tired, your poor, Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free, The wretched refuse of your teeming shore. Send these, the homeless, tempest-tost to me, I lift my lamp beside the golden door!” For me, this is a testament to who we are, what our story has been, and the values we hope to offer to the world. As I wrote this piece, I was reminded of a journalist of Somalian descent who immigrated to Canada as a refugee. She returned back to Somalia, and used her camera to capture moments of beauty that tell of creation’s story - the human story. She was, unfortunately, killed by terrorists - the very people the fear of whom turned her and many others into refugees. I am an immigrant, and so I do have a story to share. You may not be an immigrant yourself, and so may not have an immigrant story to share. But it is possible that your ancestors may have been immigrants as well, and that they too may have had their own story, some of which may be familiar to you. Or you may know an immigrant who has shared with you their personal immigrant story. A common thread which runs through an immigrant story is the desire for a better life for one’s self, and for the family they love. I believe there’s nothing more uplifting than a story that tells of the desire to live a better life - an immigrant story. I can only hope that you share similar sentiment. ~Manny

This week, millions of Americans across the length and breadth of this beautiful land, from shining sea to shining sea, if you may, will join together with family, friends, neighbors - some of whom may be strangers or acquaintances - and many others to celebrate a very important day in the life of our country. Countless will be the gatherings, and so will there be lots to eat and drink. Beyond the many parades in communities - big or small - across this great land, some of us will gather at different parks or beaches, and if you happen to find yourself in Washington DC, you can join many others at the National Mall to watch a beautiful fireworks display. You may, alternatively, decide to watch the parade and fireworks on television. Whether you participate, or watch, any of these activities in real time or on TV, there’s one thing that draws all of us together - our belief in the idea of America, to which we each pledge our allegiance. There’s also a part of the American fabric, the American ideal, which is the aspirational creed. This is the one creed that holds out hope for a more perfect union. For me, this aspiration falls within the purview of that sacred American text, the United States Constitution. It is incredibly telling that, within America’s sacred text, is the Three-Fifths Compromise. This idea was mooted by James Wilson in an effort to find a compromise between Northern and Southern states, to determine Congressional representation and the levying of taxes. I have no idea how they determined that metric of three-fifths. Why not two-fifths? Why not four-fifths? Many are the reasons which have been advanced to help us understand the rationale for this compromise. We may agree or disagree with the rationale, but shrouded in it is the question of the value of Blacks - a majority of whom were slaves at the time. So although America’s sacred text holds some to be three-fifths, the remarkable part for me is the hope it carries within it, the aspiration it seeks for a more perfect union, where the truth we all hold to be self-evident will be made manifest. The union wasn’t perfect then, and it isn’t perfect now. If, on the one hand, we understand perfection to be an illusion, and on the other we embrace the noble idea that our lives are works in progress, then we can, at the barest minimum, agree that we have made significant progress towards creating a more equitable society. A society where the rights and dignity of those who were considered to be three-fifths human are as sacred as the rights of those who considered them to be three-fifths human. The most encouraging and transformative part of the American story has been one where generations of Americans have picked up one battle after another to get us ever closer to that perfect union. For me, every inch of progress towards achieving that perfect union can be characterized as a realization of the piece of the ever-present kingdom of God. Indeed, this aspirational creed expresses a desire - the hope of a more perfect union. It doesn’t argue that the union is perfect, but that it aims towards perfection. The Book of Proverbs help us with these words: “Where there’s no vision, the people perish.” Thank heavens that, within the text itself, is a vision - our Aspirational Creed. And, for the life of this vision, we will not perish because our paths are guided by the sober words of Dr. Martin Luther King: “We must learn to live together as brothers (sisters) or perish together as fools.” It is not enough to hold on to a vision, but it is sufficient enough to work towards the realization of that vision. And for two hundred and forty-three years that work hasn’t stopped; it continues to this day. I learned, many years ago, that dreams are the only currency that never depreciate in value. Our aspirational creed is our collective dream, and because it is a dream that has not depreciated in value, it is one dream worth dying for. On this Fourth of July holiday, it is my prayer that you will enjoy the company of friends and family, strangers and acquaintances - immigrant and native-born - and enjoy the company of any American you come across, by sharing a dish, sharing a drink, and sharing stories of liberty. While doing so, join in singing the songs of liberty, for within those songs are the longings of a generation gone before, and a generation yet unborn- the longings which tell of our aspirational creed; our march towards a more perfect union. Happy Fourth of July. ~Manny

This past Monday, the Spiritual Life Commission (SLC) gathered to consider the 2020 theme for our beloved parish. Each year, the SLC gathers at the beginning of the summer and undertakes this unique, but humbling, process of prayerfully deliberating on important aspects of our spiritual life as a community of faith. It feels really good, and most uplifting, to experience such positive vibes and energy from among our parishioners - all of whom are dedicated to providing us with multiple avenues by which we can deep our spiritual life. One of the important ministries that has touched me ever so deeply, and for which I am eternally thankful, is that of the SLC members' writing of prayers for our worship. These prayers have become part of our liturgical character, and they speak to the real needs of our Christ Church community and our common life. For me, hearing those prayers on Sunday mornings lifts my spirits up for, to the extent possible, those prayers are an authentic reflection of the collective thoughts of our community. Beyond Sunday mornings, the SLC organizes many other events throughout the year. One such gathering is the Christ Church Annual Parish Retreat, held in beautiful Rehoboth Beach each October. This year’s retreat is scheduled for October 4-6, 2019. One of our favorite people, the Reverend Kirk Kubicek, is on board to lead the retreat. All of you are invited to join in for a great weekend. In addition to that event, the SLC also organizes Advent Quiet Day, Lenten Reflection Day, the Wednesday Evenings in Lent Supper Series, and the annual Daily Lenten Meditations Booklet. On July 17th and August 28th of this year, the SLC Summer Book Discussion group will meet to reflect on the book Who Needs God by Harold Kushner. "Why are all these important?" one may ask. Well, the point of enumerating all that the SLC does to deepen our spiritual lives is to bring home the point undergirding our theme for the year. The text supporting our theme is from the prophet Ezra. I was lost when the quote came up, because I don’t remember the last time I read the prophet Ezra. He is one of the minor exilic prophets, and introduced the Torah to Jerusalem upon his return from exile. Although the historical context of the text maybe haunting, our main focus is to glorify the potential in each of us to rise up to the task that has been given to us. And that task - our task - is one of bringing people together. Our task is missional. Our task is one of changing lives. Our task is one of exhorting and bringing out the best in each one of us. Our task is one of reconciliation, and of hope. Our task is one of changing the narrative of those who are on the margins of our society. Our task is one of blessing each other with the gifts God has blessed us with. Our task is one of telling the salvation story to the lost. Our task is one of bringing healing and comfort to the brokenhearted, the wounded, the fainthearted, the sick, and the possessed. Our task is one of providing everyone with a reason to sing again - to sing of God’s goodness. Our task is one of holding each other in prayer, supporting each other, and walking hand-in-hand into a blessed future. Our task is one of mending God’s creation. Our task is one of forgiving each other. Our tasks are many, and varied. Nothing fills me with an unimaginable sense of pride than knowing that the task God has given us is so wide, so broad, so herculean and demanding - and yet, so fulfilling. Perhaps one other task is to always remember that the strength to accomplish what God has given us to do doesn’t come from us, but from God Himself. That is why He encourages us with these words: Rise up. Accept the challenge. Take Courage. Go ahead and do it. Let nothing hold you back. Let nothing stop you, because you know what? Anything worth doing at all is worth doing well. That is why we wouldn’t stumble upon the task that God has given to our care, but we will, while counting on His benevolent grace, execute that task to His infinite glory. Hear what Paul says to the Church in Phillipi: “Finally, brothers and sisters, whatever is true, whatever is noble, whatever is right, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is admirable--if anything is excellent or praiseworthy--think about such things.” To me, our task encapsulates all that is true, noble, right, pure, lovely, and admirable. We will not stop at merely thinking about them, we will do them - because that is what God requires of us. Arise to accept the challenge. It may take a lot from us and require us to give our very best. The good news is that we can do it because the courage, strength, and capital to execute God’s task comes from the giver of the task - God. Rise, take courage, and do it. ~Manny

A scar on any part of your body is always a reminder of a particular event in your life. Depending on how gory that event in your life may have been, the scar reminds you of the what if. For me, there was one scary moment, as I lay on my back in a puddle of hot cooking oil that had fallen off of the nearby stove. What if the hot boiling cooking oil in the frying pan sitting on the stove had fallen in my eyes, or had fallen on my face? What if…?!? It was during allergy season, and my allergies had gotten so bad that any one sneeze felt like I was about to pass out. I didn’t know what had happened, but I soon realized that I was on my back on the floor of our kitchen, lying in that hot cooking oil. I suffered second and third-degree burns at my back, and subsequently had to go through skin grafting, a process that has left a permanent scar on my right thigh. Every time I see the scar, I am reminded of such a near tragedy in my life, an experience which causes me to reflect on the what ifs that could have shaped or changed my life in a very significant way. Some of us bear scars of a particular moment in our lives, or see them in the life of a loved one. That scar may have been as a result of a surgery - like mine - or an accident, a horrible relationship, an assault, or an illness on the one hand Or perhaps there is a joyous moment that has left that indelible imprint in your consciousness. Truthfully, in as much as a scar reminds us of the what ifs that surround a particular event, it also reassures us of the grace that has held us up, even when our scars tell of a horrific event. Such grace brings to mind the story of a little boy on whose hands were imprinted scars of a father who wouldn’t let go of him. One hot afternoon, a little boy was swimming in the lake behind his house. As he swam, he didn't notice the alligator that was following him. His father, gardening from a distance, saw the alligator and yelled to his son to turn back. Too late! Just as the boy reached his dad, the alligator reached the boy. In an incredible tug-of-war the father grabbed his son's arms while the alligator snatched his legs. The alligator was determined to pull the boy underwater, but the father was too passionate and zealous to let go of his son. A farmer who was driving by heard the screaming, immediately leaped from his truck, and proceeded to shoot the reptile. Remarkably, the boy survived, but only after spending several weeks in the local hospital. He has, of course, become a local celebrity, and was interviewed by the local newspaper about his encounter with the alligator. He showed the reporter the terrible scars on his legs, and with an obvious pride on his face, the little boy added, "I've got great scars on my arms, too, because my dad held me and wouldn't let go!" A freak accident left a scar on the legs and arms of this little boy. But there’s another kind of scar, which Paul refers to as the ‘marks’ on his body. Listen to what he tells the Galatians: “From now on, let no one cause me trouble, for I bear on my body the marks of Jesus.” Through his persecution, trials, beatings, shipwrecks, imprisonment, and more, Paul finally reached a point in his life where the marks - his scars - bore testimony of a life of sharing the unique message of the story of grace. It is possible that some of the scars on you, or those in your mind - whether metaphorical or real - may symbolize abuse, assault, disappointment, pain or something more unimaginable perpetrated on you by someone you loved or a complete stranger. Remember, our life is one that flows like a river, and as you may already know, rivers don’t flow backwards. It isn’t easy to forget the scars that have been left behind by another or an event, but it is possible to find healing and purpose in those scars. ~Manny

What beautiful weather we had for the annual Springfield Hospital Picnic this past Saturday! Parishioners helped make the afternoon a memorable one for the residents gathered on our Christ Church lawn. Barbecues were manned, burgers and snacks were happily eaten, conversations enthusiastically shared, and Small Delusions even made an appearance and played a few fan favorites! New volunteers are always welcome to join us in helping bring fun and fellowship to those at Springfield Hospital. After the summer season comes to a close, we will be visiting our friends each month through next May, on the third Thursday of each month. We play bingo and games, bring punch and homemade cookies, and share a fun hour or so each time. If you are interested in joining us for this vital ministry, please let us know!

This is the First Sunday after Pentecost, also knows as Trinity Sunday. Readings for today: Proverbs 8:1-4, 22-31 Psalm 8 Romans 5:1-5 John 16:12-15 The Collect of the Day: Almighty and everlasting God, you have given to us your servants grace, by the confession of a true faith, to acknowledge the glory of the eternal Trinity, and in the power of your divine Majesty to worship the Unity: Keep us steadfast in this faith and worship, and bring us at last to see you in your one and eternal glory, O Father; who with the Son and the Holy Spirit live and reign, one God, for ever and ever. Amen. Father Manny's Sermon for today can be read here.