Open Table Herbarium began, as all sacred things do, with love — love for the earth, for one another, and for the quiet holiness found in the work of our hands. My name is Bradford, and I’m an ordained priest. My partner, Thomas, is a witch. Our paths and practices take different shapes, yet they meet in a shared devotion to beauty, belonging, and the care of creation.

The name Open Table comes from a promise that has shaped both my ministry and our life together — the conviction that faith, at its truest, tears down walls to build bigger tables. It’s the belief that love is not scarce, that welcome should never be rationed, and that the Divine is found not behind barriers, but in the places where we gather, share, and make room for one another.

For us, all creation is sacramental. In my progressive Lutheran faith, I see the fingerprints of God in soil and sky, in every living thing that bears the breath of life — not confined to altar and chalice, but revealed in the ordinary, the earthy, the shared. And for Thomas, in his pagan and witchcraft practice, the sacred is the same: the Divine alive in root and river, in flame and moonlight, in every cycle of growth and decay. Together, we hold that the world itself is holy — that every leaf, every stone, every act of tending is part of the same great liturgy of creation.

The table, for us, is both altar and workshop. Here we transform whole, ethically sourced herbs into teas, salves, and household offerings crafted with intention and respect. Each creation is rooted in the old ways and guided by thoughtful research, grounding folk tradition in mindful, evidence-based care.

Our faith is a radical gospel of love — one that stands with the marginalized, honors the earth, and understands that compassion is not passive. We welcome all who come in good faith and mutual respect, holding space for difference while refusing to make room for harm or hate. Love, to us, is sacred work — and sacred work has boundaries.

This is the spirit of Open Table: a space of reverence, rest, and renewal. A place to slow down, to tend what is good, and to remember that every small act of care — a shared cup, a lighted candle, a clean and gentle home — can be an act of devotion