We broke bread with a Druze gentleman at lunchtime, and we were blessed indeed.
Technically, I suppose, we ate…and he served. He and his family treated our pilgrimage group to a feast of Biblical proportions, all at his cafe just outside the gates of the Christian monastery at Mount Carmel.
He called me “brother,” I noticed. It was a delight to receive his hospitality, one son of Abraham to another. There was no suggestion of conflict between this gracious Muslim* and our band of boisterous Catholics.
Truly a Psalm 23 moment: He set a feast before us…in the sight of our (supposed) foes.
Traipsing about the Holy Land, there’s always a God-moment to be had it seems.
The Ancient of Days can be found, right on down the road…just around the bend…whenever we open our doors and spread wide our arms, to receive each other as sisters and brothers.
* Please pardon my “Druze confusion”: Our host was NOT a Muslim, I’ve learned. His sect is Abrahamic, but it split off from mainline Islam in 1016 CE.
Let us remember that we are in the presence of the Holy and Merciful One.