The Progressive Reverend

I have returned home, but a part of me is still walking cobblestone streets. Italy did not simply offer me a vacation — it invited me to   pay attention . Before the trip, I spoke about travelling with attention and intention. And in Italy, those companions became my teachers. Every day, I learned again how to   see : Beauty surprises me around every corner, a splash of terra-cotta, a balcony of geraniums, the glint of sun on the Ligurian Sea. History rising in arches and alleyways, whispering that time is a holy storyteller. I stood before the Duomo in Florence and cried, not because I was supposed to, but because devotion carved into stone is overwhelming. People gave centuries of their lives to build something beautiful for God. What kind of love inspires that? What kind of courage to believe beauty itself could be prayer? At St. Peter’s Basilica, awe swept over me like a liturgy. Under that dome, I could almost hear the heartbeat of faith, steady and ancient. There, differ...

I’m going to Italy. Even writing the words feels surreal, like speaking a dream aloud before it’s had a chance to unfold. I’ve never been before. And if I’m honest, I’m not a particularly confident traveller. I overthink hotels I booked, go over my itinerary multiple times, and triple-check my passport before I leave the house. There’s a part of me that would rather stay tucked into the safety of the familiar. And yet here I am, packing my suitcase and my courage, because some journeys are worth the trembling. The truth is that travel and faith have always felt intertwined. Both ask us to step beyond what we know. Both demand a willingness to get lost, to ask questions, to stumble and learn. And both have the power to change not just our surroundings, but the shape of our souls. I know many people feel nervous when discussing their faith. It’s like trying to navigate a foreign city without a map, unsure of the right words, and afraid of making a mistake. But faith, like travel, is less...