Since 9/11, I have dreaded flying, not so much out of fear, but because of the hassle involved. So when I found out I had to go to Chicago, I was not looking forward to it. As it turned out, the trip from Gainesville to Chicago was uneventful, so I was feeling optimistic about the return trip, until I called to make a reservation for the airport shuttle.
“We’re overbooked for that part of town and can’t take any more reservations,” I was told.
An injured foot discouraged me from taking the “L,” so I resigned myself to calling a cab, my least favorite mode of transportation — not only because of the expense, but because my introverted self, already frazzled from packing, is wearied by the forty minutes of relating one-to-one with the stranger in the driver’s seat.
So my Sunday morning began with the expectation of just plowing with determination through the day. God, however, is full of surprises, and ordinary events soon reminded me of the abiding presence of God’s Spirit.
The Spirit of God in the Taxi
First, the taxi driver turned out to be a very polite young man from India, and as a bonus, he was quiet, freeing me from the necessity of conversation. Along the way, we stopped at a traffic light where an aging woman approached carrying a corrugated cardboard sign which read: “I am homeless.” The taxi driver motioned for her to stop, and gave her a dollar bill or two.
I said nothing, but pondered this simple gesture as we continued toward the airport. Finally I said to the driver, “I appreciate your compassion toward the homeless woman.”
In his lilting English he replied, “I believe that we have to help each other.”
“We don’t know,” I added, “the circumstances that brought her to where she is.”
His response evoked the Sermon on the Mount, “It’s easy to judge, but we can judge wrong.”
One can argue about whether or not it really helps a beggar to give him or her money, but what was unarguable was the kindness of the driver.
The Spirit of God in Midway Airport
Since traffic was light, we arrived early at the airport, and I began the long trudge toward the gate. (Midway is no longer a small airport.) On the way I noticed a sign for the airport chapel, and almost to the gate I heard over the loudspeaker: “Catholic mass will be celebrated at 11:00 in the chapel. It will last one half hour.” This was obviously designed to lure the harried traveler.
Letting myself be lured, I turned around and headed for the chapel. When I entered I was welcomed warmly and asked to be one of the gift-bearers at the offertory. The liturgy began, and somehow the priest, whose 59th anniversary of priesthood was that very day, managed both to give a homily (which he promised would last only three minutes, and to reassure us, held his watch before his eyes as he spoke) and also to have us sing at the proper moments — and all in one half hour.
Besides the general atmosphere of cordiality and efficiency, I was struck by the words of the priest right at the beginning: “I am available to hear confessions after mass. If you’ve been away for a long time, you don’t have to give numbers and details, just a general idea of what you’ve done against God. It doesn’t matter how long you’ve been away. And if you don’t need to confess, come anyway for the grace of the sacrament!”
Nothing out of the ordinary had happened. But here in Midway Airport was the same Spirit which I met in the cab driver: a welcoming Spirit, non-judgmental and kind. My anticipated miserable day was turning out to be bright with the contemplation of goodness.
A final detail. There was one empty seat in the plane, and it was right next to me.
If you love me, you will keep my commandments. And I will ask the Father, and he will give you another Advocate, to be with you forever. This is the Spirit of truth, whom the world cannot receive, because it neither sees him nor knows him. You know him, because he abides with you, and he will be in you.
(John 14:15-17)