Signs of Faith Religious Vanity Plates
"7 tms70". That was the message on the license tag of a passing black SUV. I spotted it as I made my way home through a logistical labyrinth of en masse transit' one night recently. White-knuckling my way from point a to point b I tried to steer clear of the fearless drivers' weaving in and out of lanes at breakneck speed. You know the type. Throwing caution to the wind they make spur-of-the-moment maneuvers without employing the forewarning tactics second nature to the rest of us: reducing speed, use of the turn signal, or they slam on their brakes - trusting in ours. They cut us off and not too politely urge us on should we choose to obey the speed limit and traffic laws. It is enough to incite feelings or fantasies of road-rage in even the most peaceable of persons.
A glance in my rear view mirror reveals the red, contorted face and wildly gesturing hand of the driver behind me. Obviously he is attempting to communicate his displeasure with something to me. My being in front of him? The log-jam we are embroiled in? I feel my own temperature beginning to rise. Or maybe he is venting to the universe, not seeking my attention at all. As our world shrinks and the landscape becomes transformed by urban sprawl we've fewer open roads and it is inevitable that at least some of our fellow travelers see driving as a therapeutic means of channeling aggression.
"7 tms 70". I remembered a line from the New Testament, the Book of Mathew. In chapter 18 Peter asks Jesus just how many times we should forgive someone who has sinned against us, "7 times?" he asks. According to the King James Bible, "70 times 7" is Jesus' reply. The New American Bible for Catholics translates the passage as: "not 7 times but 77 times." In either case, scripture tells us to forgive and not keep count. The spied vanity plate seems to speak to this moment. It resonates with pertinence and with a prick of conscience my own near-anger is deflated.
Moving frenetically from one appointment to take care of another errand on my way home from work just in time to chauffer a child to that commitment, whew! The price of gas not withstanding a lot of us still end up spending an inordinate amount of precious time behind the wheel. Lose perspective and we court discontent. But it's hard to stop and smell the roses when exhaust fumes are wafting through the window. And just who bears the lions-share of these domestic duties can become a thorn in the side of familial tranquility:
"The balance is unfairly tipped!" I muse.Un-checked and un-resolved feelings of righteous indignation can become a burden of resentment and we can end up carting around a lot more than just groceries or kids. With rising emotions and thinning patience I slow to a stop for a traffic light. "chus joi" reads the license plate of the red Honda in front of me. Choose joy. Once again, by design or Divine, a message apropos to the moment. I swallow my bitterness and drive on.
A former pastor of my church, Msgr. Michael McCarron once declared during a Sunday sermon that none of us present had made the decision to attend that day's service ourselves. Rather, he stated, the Holy Spirit had led us there. "He only lets us think it is our own idea," he said. God whispers and nudges and creates opportunities for grace in everyday moments. Sometimes He disguises His Voice with the sound of another's, though. We have to listen with our hearts. His signposts can be camouflaged by the ordinary. We have to look past the mundane and follow with our hearts. A perception shaded by this awareness sees things differently. The license plates on passing vehicles, for instance.
A vanity plate can be the perfect medium to showcase an individual's creative wit. It can also provide a visual sound-byte' of their politics and philosophy. If their message is one of faith, if it speaks to our hearts and leads us to take the higher road who's to say it's not the vehicle chosen by a Higher Power as well? Could God be directing my eyes to that plate at the precise moment our paths cross so that I might receive some heavenly council or encouragement? I like to think so.
That these highway communiques coincide with individual states-of-mind or circumstance could, of course, be nothing more than happenstance. With a complex infrastructure and a growing driving population the contradiction of the status quo is an increased sense of isolation: crowded conditions condition us to look past our immediate vicinity. Insulated by the metal and glass that surrounds us our cell phones become the life-line to family and friends and we share the road with strangers. We avoid eye contact with our fellow sojourners and try to keep to ourselves, cruising past the yield signs of friendly nods and casual encounters. It can be a lonely road though and lost in our own thoughts it's no wonder we might seek proof of God's existence through supernatural dialog and signs.
When my children were younger they used to like to play a game while driving with me to pass the time: they would eagerly scan the passing traffic for Volkswagen Beetles. The first child to spot one would call out "punch buggy" and name the color of the espied automobile and thus win the round. During my own childhood, road trips were made less monotonous for my siblings and self by engaging in games of I spy out-of-state license plates'. The prize (bragging rights for the remainder of the trip) went to whomever noticed the tag from the state farthest away.
A variation on these games could be to search for messages of faith. Bound together by traffic patterns and time we are connected for the journey and a miracle is all in how you look at it. So the next time you find yourself on the verge of being driven to distraction by petulant passengers, the next time you are trapped in a grind-to-a-halt grid locked traffic jam, the next time you are held hostage in a bumper-to-bumper snails paced rush hour' why not breathe deep and look around. Could be Someone is trying to tell you something.
