Did you hear the one about the Episcopalian, former Baptist, Catholic turned Baha’i and atheist who walked into a coffee shop?
While that may sound like the beginning of a joke, this particular interfaith gathering is part of a serious endeavor called Common Tables.
This nonprofit group is trying to end religious bigotry — one dinner table at a time.
The notion is that people who break bread together can break down barriers between faiths.
Co-founders Randy and Sandy Harris and Dave and Kay Corby arrange for individuals and couples from diverse spiritual backgrounds to meet and explore their similarities and differences.
Kerry kindly came to Off The Map Live with Tony Steward to find out what we’re all about (you can watch some of their first impressions here).
Kerry’s asking people who know him to post (positive) comments on his post about going full-time. If you met Kerry at Off The Map Live and have a minute, please go over there and wish him well in this new venture.
Ken and Deb Loyd, who pastor The Bridge and Home PDX, were at Off The Map Live with us recently. Ken was featured in The Oregonian a couple of days ago - here’s an excerpt from the article.
It’s 12:30 p.m. on a sunny summer Sunday, and Ken Loyd is supposed to serve lunch to 50 people. They gather at the western end of the Hawthorne Bridge awaiting his weekly church service. The food is the big draw, a hot meal on the one day when most soup kitchens shut down.
Loyd has had a rough morning. The Beaverton congregation providing lunch is late. The batteries on the toy microphone he preaches with just died. Athletes from the Portland Triathlon have nudged his audience of homeless men and women from their normal spot.
Less than 50 feet from where Loyd stands, athletes enjoy massages, organic pizza and microbrew. Though they just swam, biked and ran almost 32 miles, most look cleaner and better rested than the displaced.
Loyd has no time to note the incongruous setting. The minister, aging hippie and recovering drug addict, is too busy fretting. He rubs a hand through his silver Mohawk as if trying to summon a genie from a bottle. He’s losing his crowd. Where is the food?
He hands a volunteer two $20s and sends him for takeout. A triathlete bridges the divide, offering leftover pizza and bananas, just as the Beaverton church crew arrives with enough fried chicken, mac and cheese, and potato salad to feed twice this many people.
Those who drifted away hurry back. Loyd releases a deep breath, looks heavenward for a second and grins.
“That’s the way the Lord works, right? You don’t have anything, and then suddenly you have too much.”
