How easy it is to get wrapped up In our own little universe The cocoon of the daily grind Of going about our business Trying to protect our turf 'Cause we're more fragile than we let on We live in fear that aggressors surround us Propelling us to not forget and not forgive Yet when we step back and Focus on the meaning of our life On the direction we want to take And the legacy we'll leave behind We do want to be kinder and Contribute to a better world Not just for us but for mankind And in the end we'll face our Maker Standing alone solely accountable For our deeds and misdeeds Responsible for our own journey For how we cultivated our heart And the goodwill we did impart When tallied will we have done enough Or will we be asking for forgiveness For barely missing a passing grade With this in mind and while it's not too late Let's take stock of what's in our heart All start practicing forgiveness, And letting go of the past as we realize To forgive is to set ourselves free. ~James Edward Lee, Sr.

We began our Lenten journey with the Ash Wednesday ritual of the imposition of Ashes on our foreheads. Throughout the world, millions of Christians willingly walked to the sanctuary, knelt or stood up, and heard sounds echoing human mortality. Within those words sit our beginning and our end. Yes, the beauty of being human is to live, and yes, it is to die as well. But within the interval of our lives are sounds of God’s call to us. It is the sound of a voice that may be pleasantly terrifying, filled with curiosity and wonder. I can picture, in my mind’s eye, Abraham’s reaction at hearing the sound of God’s call. How terrifying must that have been! Remember the story about the prophet Samuel who, as a boy, heard the sound of God’s call as he slept in the pitch darkness of the temple? Remember the story about angel Gabriel as he greeted Mary? Think about that sound. And yes, remember the shepherds who were watching their flocks by night and suddenly heard the sound, the beautiful sound about God’s glory. Remember the sound from the heavens during Jesus’ Baptism? There are so many sounds that we hear of God reaching out to us. But the question is, do you hear the sound of God’s voice? The interesting bit about the sound of God’s voice is that there’s no particular way in which it comes through to us; it may either be rugged and hoarse, or it maybe that smooth, calming voice we hear inviting us to the table of thanksgiving. In whichever way you hear the voice, I think the sound of God’s voice helps us to refocus and to ask questions... "What’s my purpose? What is God calling me to do? What is God’s plan for me? And the most intriguing question is, do I fit into God’s overarching plan?" The reality is that we often appear confused, or even lost. And this is because we long for depth, purpose, and relationships. And we believe, ever more deeply, that our longings are, for the most part, geared towards being fulfilled by the immeasurable abundance from God’s store. The point isn’t as much as God coming to us in a cacophony of sounds, rather, do we have the ear to hear any sound, and especially the sound of God’s voice? An English poet by the name David Whyte tells the story of an old Irish monk who stood alone at the edge of his monastery and heard the toll of the church bell calling him to prayer. He says to himself, "That is the most beautiful sound in the world." For it is the call to depth, to dwell in the place of imagination and creativity; it is the place where we discover our true self, and the presence of God within us. But just within the moment of the toll from the church bell, he hears the echoing sound of a blackbird calling from out in a field. He says to himself, "That's also the most beautiful sound in the world." This is the call to adventure, to set out toward new horizons, to go out into world right now, as we are, and offer our gift. Two different sounds - from a bell and a bird - but the commonality between the two is that inherent call within them, the feeling that we're being summoned, either by the circumstances of our lives or an internal, driving energy that all spiritual traditions attribute to the sound of the voice of the God who calls us. I think that the idea or the sense of being called to something, or somewhere, is the most powerful and persuasive of spiritual encounters that we can ever experience. Yes, there’s nothing otherworldly about hearing the sound of God’s voice. It is uniquely a human experience, and precisely because it is a human experience is the reason why at its heart sits the value of choice. And especially during this season of Lent, we can hear the sound of the voice that calls us to slow down, take some time for prayer, escape the tyranny of the calendar, put the phone away a little, fast if you can, and pay attention. For it is through such practices that we are able to discern the gentle nudging to attend to our lives and all that is going on around us, just so we may be able to respond with love and faithfulness. Thoughts about the two sounds the monk heard reminds me of what Thich Nhat Hanh said about being a monk: “To be a monk is to have time to practice for your transformation and healing. And after that, to help with the transformation and healing of other people.” Which sound do you hear: the toll of the bell, or the song of the blackbird, or both? Within each sound is an invitation from God, and within each invitation is an awaiting transformation of the self and of others. Lent is about hearing the toll of the bell, and the song of the blackbird. Manny.

Love is a verb. As Christians, it is what we do — in imitation of Christ. In the post-Eucharist prayer, we ask to be sent "into the world in peace", and granted "strength and courage to love and serve” our Lord, "with gladness and . . . .” Remember? Last week at the Dorsey Center, where our group went to serve lunch, I met Pete. He was there to wash dishes, for both serving groups of the day. I asked him why we were so fortunate as to have an extra participant for such a grungy task. He told me that he had once been the recipient of such meals and that now he wanted to contribute to the effort. Pete was offering his love, by washing dishes two days a week, for four plus hours each of those days. Love, as a verb, doesn’t always require so much time or effort. It can be giving a sandwich to the beggar at the intersection. It can be offering a ride to a neighbor, who temporarily cannot drive. It can be taking the time to speak to a newcomer at Christ Church. It can be swallowing one’s pride, saying “I’m sorry, I have forgotten your name, but we met just last week”. Showing love can be done a hundred times a day, in all the little things we do.

The first Saturday in Lent, March 9th, will set the stage for our Lenten Reflection Day, taking place from 8:30 a.m. until 12 noon in Old Brick. This year we are blessed to be joined by The Reverend Lura Kaval, Vicar of Church of the Incarnation in Mineral, Virginia. She will lead us in prayer and meditation as we examine our 2019 theme, "Love, Re-imagined". A light breakfast will be served at 8:30 a.m. with the day's program to follow, and then concluding around midday with an informal Eucharist. We hope that you'll find time to join us for some, or all, of this very special morning.

If I speak with human eloquence and angelic ecstasy but don't love, I'm nothing but the creaking of a rusty gate. If I speak God's Word with power, revealing all his mysteries and making everything plain as day, and if I have faith that says to a mountain, "Jump," and it jumps, but I don't love, I'm nothing. If I give everything I own to the poor and even go to the stake to be burned as a martyr, but I don't love, I've gotten nowhere. So, no matter what I say, what I believe, and what I do, I'm bankrupt without love. 1 Corinthians 13:1-7

Ash Wednesday is one of the more peculiar days on the Church’s calendar. On this day, we are not only reminded of our mortality but we are reminded of whence we came, or were made of. To get our thoughts and minds ready for the season, we will have services at Christ Church at 7:00 a.m. and 12:00 noon in Old Brick, and also at 7:30 p.m. in New Brick. Christ Church will also offer "Ashes To Go" on Ash Wednesday, from 6:00 to 8:00 a.m. We will offer a short prayer, and administer the Ashes on those who cannot be with us in worship that morning, but who desire the them, nonetheless. Simply stop by the "Ashes To Go" banner, which will be near the main entrance.

There’s a story about Alexander the Great. It is reported that when he was on his death bed, he called in his generals and told them about his three final wishes. The first wish was that only the best doctors were to carry his coffin. The second, that his wealth should be scattered on the road to the graveyard. The third and last wish was leave the hands hanging in the wind for everyone to see. His generals were obviously surprised, and so they asked him to explain. For the first wish, he said that he wanted the best doctors to carry the coffin to show that the best doctors are powerless to cure in front of death. With regards to the second wish, he explained that I want the road scattered with my wealth so everybody can see that riches gotten on earth will stay on earth. And for his third wish, he said I want my hands to swing freely in the wind so that people understand that we are born empty-handed and we leave with empty hands after what’s most precious is gone. And what is most precious is time. I think that the often depressing part of our lives is our inability to take anything of value with us to the grave. If you have ever witnessed a Jewish or Moslem burial, you will surprised how poignant this point is emphasized. To an extent some even go down in the grave with a beautiful casket or an urn, and for me that does not convey sharply enough the idea of being dust, and to dust we shall return. Trust me, I have often wondered about why we take nothing with us to the grave. But when I ponder on the images and stories of Egyptian Pharaohs and their burials in those pyramids, and the idea that some of these Pharaohs were buried with gold, axes, knives, beds, chests, chairs, vases and other furniture, as well as food, drink, and other perishables in pottery jars or bowls, makes me inch ever closer to understanding why we can’t take anything with us. Granted, these practices were based on the belief that these Pharaohs would have need of the items in the afterworld, yet what we have come to find out is they had little to no use for the items with which they were buried. This is sobering! As we prepare for Lent, I am deeply reminded of the crying call within the Ash Wednesday liturgy “Remember you are dust, and to dust you shall return.” Whenever I hear those words, either said to me or me to you, my hope is that we can all keep this realism at the very center of our lives, and remember, in fact, that one of the our wishes should be that we never ever forget that we are dust. To me, this sober reality helps us to craft a life that is dependent on gratitude for our own lives, and the very people that we love. We may glean so much from Alexander’s story, but an invitation within the story is the value of time, spending time with the people we love and, dare I add, spending time with God. Some say, "time is money, time is priceless". The truth, however, is we can always get richer, but we cannot get any more of the time that we have already lost. When we spend our time on someone or with God, we are really giving them a part of our life that will never come back, but the value is the depth of our personal and spiritual enrichment. One of the reasons Lent is so important is because it pounces upon us as a reality check. And we need that reality check, just so we don’t fall into the abyss of self-conceit. Indeed, we never get back the time that we lost, but how do we make use of the time that remains, the precious little time that we have? More importantly, as we begin our Lenten journey, what three wishes do you have? And what three wishes are so important to you that you would want to carry them with you beyond Lent? The best doctors carrying a coffin. Wealth spread on the road. Swinging hands outside of the coffin. Three sobering wishes. Dust we are, and to dust we all return. Maybe our only wish - not three - but our one wish should be one of being the best that we can or offering your best gift of time everyday of our lives, at all times and in all places. Perhaps, just that one wish may be the only one that possesses some greater value beyond the grave. ~Manny.

This is the Seventh Sunday after the Epiphany. The Collect of the Day: O Lord, you have taught us that without love whatever we do is worth nothing: Send your Holy Spirit and pour into our hearts your greatest gift, which is love, the true bond of peace and of all virtue, without which whoever lives is accounted dead before you. Grant this for the sake of your only Son Jesus Christ, who lives and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit, one God, now and for ever. Amen. The Readings for this Sunday are: Genesis 45:3-11, 15 Psalm 37:1-12, 41-42 1 Corinthians 15:35-38,42-50 Luke 6:27-38

Beginning in 1926, the month of February has been dedicated to the celebration of the achievements by people of African descent to the common life of all of humanity. These celebrations aren’t limited to the United States, but extend to several other countries. In my research, I was surprised to learn that the month of February was specifically chosen because of Abraham Lincoln's and Frederick Douglass’ birthdays. I said to myself, "How imaginative was that decision, that both men would be honored for their role in African-American life." During the month of February, all who are of African ancestry and those who have contributed significantly towards the life, the uplift, and the well-being of Africans in the diaspora are honored. The celebrations do not center on one particular person, but on a broad swath of people without whose contributions African-American life wouldn’t be what it is today. One of the many heroes and heroines that I (and many others) have been influenced by is Booker T. Washington. I initially got to know about Booker T. Washington through my mother. She didn’t graduate high school, but is such an avid reader. One day, she showed up with Booker T. Washington’s book Up From Slavery. After reading the book, she invited my younger brother and myself to read it, and so we did. Upon reading, I do not recall getting any visceral reaction over the atrocities that many people of color did endure. It was a very distant from my reality and, at the time, probably did not understand. I think the point my mother sought to make was more about how Booker overcame significant challenges, beating the odds and embracing his identity as he worked his way getting into college, and collaborating with others to establish a school of higher education for people of African ancestry. The good news is that this university, Tuskegee University, still continues to serve both people who are of African descent, and people who are not. I have a friend, one whom I grew up with in Ghana, who is presently a professor at Tuskegee University. For me, the intriguing part was the rationale for the choice of February. Although Abraham Lincoln was not of African descent, his indelible contribution was duly recognized and, in fact, his immeasurable contribution is the reason why the dream of Columbia, Maryland by Jim Rouse was even possible. The question that I want all of us to ponder over is, how can we keep the vision of people like Abraham Lincoln, Booker T. Washington and Jim Rouse alive, while still building a culture that is capable of inspiring and creating new leaders whom we can celebrate? I am reminded of a quote by Neale Donald Walsch: “There’s no ‘right way’ to do anything, there’s only the way you are doing it. Never be afraid to ‘try your hand’ because you don’t want to make a mistake or not do something ‘right.’ Success in life comes from being willing to move into uncharted territory. Always remember: life begins at the end of your comfort zone.” How appropriate! Maybe we are all primed for life because we find ourselves at the end of our comfort zones. We are a week away from the end of this month that celebrates the enormous contributions of all the people of African descent. But I am also reminded of those who are not of African descent, those who have found within themselves the ultimate desire to uplift all of those at the bottom of human dignity. It is Black History Month, and I celebrate Abraham Lincoln, Booker T. Washington and many, many others, because each one is worth depth of our gratitude. Manny.

My first experience with Valentine’s Day was in boarding school. I knew just enough about Valentine’s Day during my first four years of boarding school (about form four, which may be equivalent to ninth grade). The reason why I knew just about enough of it was simply because it didn’t matter to me and I didn’t have a reason to amped up about it. In the summer before form four, however, I had gotten myself a girlfriend. This was a girl I met during my first vacation classes. Vacation classes in Ghana are similar to summer enrichment camps. During the three-month break from school, from June to September, some secondary schools organize vacation classes for students. These classes were enrichment classes, designed to prepare students for the new school year. For the most part, however, these vacation classes were avenues where students got to hang out with friends, meet other students from other schools, made new friends, and/or simply acted as teenagers do. Some of the friends you make at these classes last a life time, and I would add that most of the friends I still keep are friends I made at these vacation classes. Why do I tell this story? Well, this girlfriend was also in boarding school - in Accra, the capital city of Ghana. Her school was about one hundred and twenty miles east of Cape Coast, where I was in boarding school. The last time I saw her was sometime that January 1989, the day before she returned back to school after the Christmas break. Bear in mind, I still knew next to nothing about Valentine’s Day at this time. In my boarding school, boys slept in bunk beds in a dormitory and during the afternoons, a fellow student will walk by our beds holding a bunch of letters, and then hand them out to those of who had received letters. On this particular Valentine’s Day, I received three different Valentine’s Day cards... all from the same person. I was over the moon. Word percolated throughout the entire campus about my Valentine cards. I had people come ask me about this particular girl who felt it necessary to send three cards instead of one. The unfortunate part of this story is that I didn’t send her any card. This was probably because I didn’t have the presence of mind to send any, as I had never received one before. Hers was the first I had ever received, and so here I was with three beautiful cards with thoughtful words about me being special! "Why three, and not one?" I asked myself. Others may have asked themselves similar questions "Why two and not one?" or "Why none at all?" These are questions which may not necessarily be easy to answer, however, they point us to that place in our lives where although we may not necessarily understand what we profess to another, the genuineness of our thoughts arises from the core of our human motivation. William Blake, an English poet, wrote this about bearing love: “And we are put on earth a little space, that we might learn to bear the beams of love.” To bear love means to endure it; that is, to grow in your capacity in order to endure love’s beauty and its pain. To bear love means to carry love, and to spread it around in just the same way as children carry laughter with them. Lastly, to bear love means to birth love, to bring forth into life a new kind of love which soothes and heals the hurting lives of others. I don’t think I ever felt the same about Valentine’s Day after receiving those three cards. You may also have a story about your first experience of Valentine’s Day. It may have been beautiful and life transforming, or perhaps a sad anecdote to a storied life. Whichever it is, I think part of bearing the beams of love is to find life in both new and existing relationships, and to reach back to thank those who made you feel special, even if for a moment. On this Valentine’s Day, I implore you to look at your own life with honest and gentle eyes. If you are able to do that, you will find that deep within you is a person seeking for connectedness, healing, creation, and joy. I think that is your true identity, and what you exist for. Our reality is one where each has his or her own unique experience of desiring love. Beyond that, there’s something universal about desiring love; it connects you with all other human beings and with all of creation. Valentine is about bearing the beams of love, and you all have a lot of that within you. Let your story be one of making someone feel very special. Manny. You can read the entire poem by William Blake here.

This is the Fifth Sunday after the Epiphany. The Collect of the Day: Set us free, O God, from the bondage of our sins, and give us the liberty of that abundant life which you have made known to us in your Son our Savior Jesus Christ; who lives and reigns with you, in the unity of the Holy Spirit, one God, now and for ever. Amen. The Readings for this Sunday are: Isaiah 6:1-8, [9-13] Psalm 138 1 Corinthians 15:1-11 Luke 5:1-11 The sermon text for last Sunday is available here.