“Born again”, it's one of those phrases you first hear in church– spoken so often it almost becomes part of the air you breathe. It’s in today’s sermon, it was there last Sunday too, and it would most likely be mentioned in Wednesday's evening service. It's the quiet question lingering on the lips of the brother who preached on the subway ride home, and the gentle refrain from the well-dressed, soft-spoken aunty at the mart– the one who, while admiring the strawberry jam in your cart and reminiscing about her kids’ favorite tarts, somehow finds a way to weave it in again: being born again.