Unity

A Saturday for Unity

There are days that feel like a deep breath. Today was one of them.

I went to the Bahá’í picnic on a beautiful Saturday, and the first thing I noticed was the light. Not just the sun on the grass, but the light in people’s faces. Bahá’í events have always felt that way to me — educated, kind, intentional people gathered not to argue doctrine, but to practice unity.

What surprised me was seeing people from the Mormon faith there too. We sat together. We ate together. We talked about service, about family, about what it means to believe in something bigger than yourself. There was no “us and them.” Just us. Different paths, same destination.

That’s what I love about the Bahá’í faith. It teaches the oneness of humanity, the oneness of religion. My father was a Bahá’í, and today I felt like I understood him a little more. He believed in bridges. He believed you could sit at a table with anyone and find God in the conversation.

I’m not Bahá’í. I’m not Mormon. I keep the Quran, the Bahá’í prayer book, and the Bible on my nightstand because I believe truth shows up in many languages. But today, at that picnic, I remembered my father. I felt close to what he believed — that unity isn’t a slogan. It’s a practice. It’s a picnic. It’s passing the potato salad to someone who prays different than you.

Tomorrow is Sunday, and I’ll be going to a new church. I love worshipping and meeting new people. I love that my faith journey doesn’t fit in one box. I’m a writer, a speaker, a PhD candidate, a woman who was once unhoused and is now building a nonprofit. I don’t have time for walls. I’m too busy building tables.

Today I was reminded: my father was right. The world is one country and mankind its citizens. I saw it at a picnic. I felt it in my chest.

From shelter to scholar, from cocoon to butterfly, from daughter to woman who understands her father better — today was a day to remember.

Teeth and all. Curls and all. Faith and all. Unity and all.

— Cathryn M. Harris