11/22/12 - The odd man out

True to form, I went to work this morning for a half-day; there was just too much going on at work and I didn’t want to leave certain things unfinished.  Thankfully, unlike last year, there were no problems getting home and our trip to the airport was uneventful.  During the drive my mother told us about all the things she planned to do while my father was away.  Dad and I scoffed at her…”you make it sound like you’re a prisoner!” “Well I am, even if it’s by my own choice” she said. The truth is that my mother is a natural caregiver.  Not overbearing, she just wants to be around to make sure that everyone is happy and healthy.  Constantly worrying about others; it’s her curse.

We left mom at the departures drop off.  Dad gave her a hug and a kiss and a smack on her rear; that’s his signature move.

After checking in we met up with our group at our departures gate.  It wasn’t hard to spot Sister Jocelyn, even though she was dressed in plain street clothes, she had a “nunly” air about her that reminded me of Sr. Frances McKenna, my high school English teacher.  I walked up to her and said “you must be Jocelyn” which brought a surprised look to her face.  “I’m John”.  Instantly there was recognition and she greeted me warmly and asked where my father was.  I pointed him out and they gave each other a wave from opposite ends of the lounge.  “John, we’ll be gathering in a few minutes to say a prayer before boarding.  See you shortly.”

A problem I had thought about early on had arisen way sooner that I had anticipated.  How is an atheist supposed to engage respectfully in group prayer while still maintaining one’s beliefs (or lack thereof)?  It’s not a question that’s easily answered.  I decided to revert to the middle ground; I would make the sign of the cross and then bow my head while the faithful prayed around me.

I stuck to my plan as the group began to recite a prayer for travelers.  But as I stood there I couldn’t help but laugh at how differently this scene would have played out if we were a bunch of Muslims gathered in prayer before a flight.  We would have all been arrested!  But dad and I were the lone men among a group of genteel old ladies who were English speaking and overwhelmingly white.  Safe company as far as the Canadian Air Traffic Safety Association was concerned.

Our prayer closed with the sign of the cross and an “Amen”.  Just when I thought I was home free, Sr. Jocelyn pulled a fast one on me and by inviting everyone to anoint each other’s foreheads and saying “God bless you”.  I immediately began to sweat.  Even my father looked worried and confused on my behalf.  I swallowed hard (I think it was my pride that felt so lumpy) and made the first move by reaching out and blessing my father.  He returned the favour by drawing his thumb across my sweaty forehead.  I was blessed by a number of old women, none of whom fell into the “silver fox” category.  Fay, Miriam, Teresa, Mary; I felt bad for each of them as they touched my forehead.  They each seemed shocked that their fingers did not meet the typical resistance offered by dry skin on skin contact.

Mercifully it ended, but I now had an idea of what was in store for me.  I would either need to immerse myself fully in the experience or strategize. I deferred to strategizing until my options ran out.

Sr. Jocelyn and I both looked up at the overhead TV screens which were showing headlines that the ceasefire between Hamas and Israel was holding.  I half-jokingly said to her that I was a little disappointed since I thought that touring near a war zone would be exciting.  “Oh no John” she said seriously “that wouldn’t be good.  Besides, it’s always volatile there anyway.”

Perfect!