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This isn’t the editorial I had planned for you. As I was about to email what I had written to my copy editor, the ding of the computer alerted me to a new message. It was from a friend whom I have been trying to go on a hike with for what has seemed forever — thanks, Covid — so I quickly opened it. I read the first line with confusion and trepidation.
I got off the train after a four-hour ride along the Pacific Ocean and headed to the exit to be met by a pastor from Bunun Presbytery, an aboriginal presbytery on Taiwan’s east coast. I was on my way to lead the fourth pastors retreat in three weeks.