Theology of the Taxi

I hustled out to the cab this morning, hoping the cabby hadn't been waiting for me with the meter running (even though barely five minutes had passed since the concierge called it for me!)  The smallish driver, with bristle-brush, salt-and-pepper hair sprouting from one edge of his pale orange turban to the other, rushed to grab my suitcase for me.  I clambered in to the backseat, freeing my jacket from the seatbelt's grasp.

"Oh, I hope I didn't make you wait!" I exclaimed.  "You must have been close-by!"

"It is not a problem" the gentleman said, pulling away from the curb.  "I do not mind to wait.  Every moment in life, it is good; wait or no wait."  His eyes smiled back to me from the rear view mirror.

"Well, thank you" said I.  "I would hate to have you miss other customers because of me!"

"It is no worry" he said.  "Every day that we wake up, sun or cloud; it is a good day.  We are thankful."

I nodded with approval from the back seat, peering forward at the meter.  He had not charged me any additional fare.

"It is all good" he said.  "God is good.  Every day you breathe and walk and wait, it is all good."  

"Yes" I muttered.  "That is so true."

Once he realized that I was a willing ear, he expounded; waiting a bit each time to sense my response before continuing.. "Sometimes people do not wish to talk" he said.  "They may say 'good morning', and that is fine.  I  just leave them alone.  But other time, people they like to talk.  I am thankful to God for everyone he brings to me."

"That's terrific" said I.

"Everyone they are different" he said.  "Like those trees, (gesturing to the boulevard), those leaves.  All different.  All made by God.  Like my thumb (he stretched his hand back towards me between the seats), my fingerprint.  All different.  Thousands of millions of people, all different.  All made by God."  His dark eyes twinkled back to me in the rearview mirror.     No  doubt he was gauging my response, perhaps to see if he could go on without risking offense.

"Yes" I said.  "It's quite amazing, isn't it?"

"Oh yes"" said he.  

The conversation continued for the duration of the ride, he giving calm but impassioned soliloquies a twixt the bumping cobbles of M street, the zipping cars, and the passing trees and leaves, which are, truly, different - yes each one.  We talked about faith, and prayer, and God, and love, and the amazingness of life and all creation.  We talked of seeing the God in people, of prejudice, of racism, and how, in all of our differences of color and culture, we are truly all God's beings.  We talked about the common joy of life in all people, even those who don't call God God.  We spoke of happiness and love and wonder, and of things working out for a reason.  We talked about the government shutdown; my relief that it ended in time to allow me to visit a museum; his relief that it ended in time to allow him to make his house payment, albeit late; that somehow it had all worked out well.

As we pulled up to the terminal, he thanked me and apologized over again for his English.  "I did so enjoy to talk to you" he said.  "God bless you and keep you safe."  "You as well" I said.  "You are quite a philosopher, and I so appreciate how happy and blessed you are!"  We wished each other the mutual safe travel and nice day, and I ambled from the cab, smiling.

It mattered not that he was from Maryland; me from Duluth.  Nor that he was born in India and I in Minnesota.  It mattered not that he wore an orange turban and I a green scarf.  Nor that he was a Sikh and I a Lutheran.  What mattered above all in that enchanted taxicab was that we both shared a reverence for the wonder of breathing, being and living.  And that, he would say, is everything.