The Grace of Seeing the Other

By Rev. John Newton

Last spring I took my daughter, Annie, on a special trip to Washington, D.C. She was nine at the time, and I gave her a small amount of spending money. Near the National Mall, she noticed a man sitting on the sidewalk with a cardboard sign. She tugged my sleeve and said, “Dad, can I give him some of my money?” 

I watched as she walked over, knelt down, made eye contact, and placed a ten-dollar bill in his hand. It was a small act, but something sacred happened there. A child saw a stranger not as a problem, but as a person—someone with a story and dignity of his own.

That moment reminded me that something in us reaches toward connection, even across distance and difference. I believe that impulse is holy. And it has taught me three things about how we can do good together. These are not just behaviors, but beliefs. When they take root in us, doing good becomes more natural—because actions flow from the way we see the world.

First: unity is not uniformity. 

In the Christian tradition, unity has never meant sameness. St. Paul describes the Church as a body—many members, one life. Eyes and ears and hands and hearts that are distinct, but equally necessary. Authentic unity does not erase difference; it honors it.  

Second: diversity is not a problem to solve. It is part of the design.

From the very beginning of Scripture, God delights in multiplicity—many nations, many languages, many gifts. Difference is not a threat to overcome but a teacher to receive. Listening becomes an act of reverence. We discover that people who see the world differently can reveal something about God we would never have discovered on our own.

Third: our unity is not built on agreement. It is built on belonging.

In a time when disagreement often leads to division, faith offers a different witness: that love is strong enough to hold people together even when they do not see eye to eye. What binds us is not uniform opinion, but the love of God, who draws us into one family.  

At St. Michael’s Episcopal Church, where I serve as rector, our stated mission is to offer “grace and connection to every one.” Not everyone, but every unique one. We believe each person is more than a label or a category. They are a who, not a what—made in the image of God, worthy of dignity and love. Sometimes we live this out beautifully. Sometimes we fall short. Grace means we keep trying.

This is why hosting IACT’s Day of Thanks means so much to us this year. The Day of Thanks is not simply an event. It is a sign of what is possible—a place where people who pray differently, sing differently, and believe differently stand together in gratitude and bring the richness of our faith to a shared table, and discover that our differences do not have to drive us apart. 

In the Christian tradition, we believe the world is ultimately headed toward reconciliation—toward a table wide enough for every tribe, language, and people. The Day of Thanks gives us a glimpse of that future here and now.  

I think about that moment with Annie—the man on the sidewalk, the unspoken connection between strangers. It didn’t solve homelessness. But it dissolved the illusion that he was a category. Even for a moment, he became a neighbor. If that kind of grace can happen on a sidewalk, imagine what can happen in a sanctuary.