Airport Contemplation

The night was short. I arose early for a morning departure to Chicago. My quiet contemplation suffered neglect, trampled by the pressure of a packed schedule. I arrived early at concourse B at Gate Four. The thought occurred to me: "Why not do your contemplation at the gate area while you wait for the boarding call."

I got seated so that I could view the expanse between concourses A and B. I closed my eyes and began to relax when a quiet direction arose from inside: "Don't retreat from the world of noise and conversation and constant activity around you; perceive God in it, in all of it." Life on the runways and approaches to the gate and in the concourses themselves appeared as active as the bubbling lava in a volcano.

My eyes were opened to see a dozen small trucks pulling luggage carts, buses carting passengers between gates, yellow service trucks with caution lights flashing, a red one entered not easily identified, a half-dozen planes lined up on the runway, baggage handlers loading and unloading, families with some children crying and others remarkably quiet, agents taking care of passengers, a white Volvo dashing along the edge of the runway – all this action I saw from my seat at Gate Four. I realized at that moment all the persons in my purview were subjects of divine love. I saw them not as impersonal objects but as images of God, doing the work of God with us who were traveling.

Behind me I heard the jovial conversation of two persons who had just met – a plethora of the usual questions and trite responses. Much louder than the small talk of these newly acquainted travelers, I hear the business talk of men on cell phones. They are reporting that they are beginning their trip; one has a crisis and he's summoning cohorts from New York to Brussels and getting his work covered by an associate. And there is more talk and noise, both mingled and garbled. Now I'm seated on the plane and the fellow across the aisle speaks as though all of us in First Class want to hear about his most recent business deal. 89

His thoughtlessness betrays his sense of self-importance. What kind of soul must inhabit that body?

If I ever hope to be a contemplative, I must enter a world of noise and ceaseless activity with a quiet and settled spirit. (I'm sorely tempted to tell the man on the cell phone that he is contaminating the whole cabin with his loud voice, but I actually think he may be my instructor impatience and kindness for the day. )

I embraced all that I have described both at Gate Four and from my seat on the plane as the bearers of God to me today.