1 Kings 8:22-23, 41-43
Many of you will know that four of us brothers recently returned from leading a pilgrimage to the Holy Land. With the exception of that wild and dangerous frontier to the north of us known as Canada, it was my first trip out of the country. And for my maiden journey across the world, it was epic. I have been asked many times what part of the experience was most significant for me. I’d like to say it was touching the rock of Golgotha; or renewing my baptismal vows on the banks of the river Jordan; or perhaps even the celebrations of Eucharist on the Mount of the Beatitudes and at Emmaus. And yes, all of these were greatly poignant but in a way that I expected them to be.
Isaiah 45: 1-7
Psalm 96: 1-9
1 Thessalonians 1: 1-10
Matthew 22: 15-22
Several weeks ago when I was traveling, a friend strongly endorsed Same Kind of Different As Me by Ron Hall and Denver Moore and put a copy in my hand. It is the story of the highly unlikely friendship of a modern day slave and an international art dealer and the woman who bound them together. They met because Ron Hall and his wife Deborah volunteered at the Union Gospel Mission, a shelter for the homeless in Ft. Worth.
I entered the Episcopal Church as a young college student. At the time, the Vietnam War, with all its passions and protests and confusions, was raging and horrific, but this was not perceived as a global problem, at least not by us students. We simply needed to get out and the problem would go away.