KEY POINTS:
I don't consider myself a religious person under normal circumstances, but I can't catch a plane without becoming an ardent Catholic during take-off and landing.
Scorn as I might the misogyny and myopia of religion when my feet are safely on the ground, as soon as I have
the misfortune to find myself strapped inside a tin bird as it hurls itself skyward, I instinctively send a Hail Mary up to the heavens with it.
I thought of this the other evening as we took off from Auckland Airport, a "Blessed are thou amongst women" roaring in my ears along with the firing engines. And being a good Catholic, I immediately felt guilty about it.
I realise the irony here; only a truly exemplary Catholic could actually find cause for guilt in prayer.
But I am not a good Catholic. I am just the opposite, in fact, for a variety of reasons too numerous and incriminating to expound on here.
And so my 747 Hail Marys are less a manifestation of any religious belief and more a craven clutching at straws, the ersatz faith of a drowning man.
Flying, take-off especially, terrifies me to the point where a large part of my brain shuts down. The prayer comes from the primitive little part that's left ablaze.
I'm not thinking about my prayer, I'm often not even conscious of what I'm doing, it is as instinctive a reaction as a cough or a burp or a sneeze. Which leaves me wondering, does it count?
At school we were always taught that a prayer said without belief is just a jumble of words. It is meaningless. By this rationale I could just as easily be repeating my 10 times tables or the words to You're so Vain for all the meaning in my Hail Mary.
So why choose a prayer? Habit, partly, I suppose; it's one of the first prayers I learned and it's a beautiful prayer that lends itself particularly well to memory and repetition.
There is always comfort in the things we take with us from childhood. True, my silent Hail Mary may be slightly less comforting than the 15-year-old teddy on my bed, but it's also less conspicuous to bring on a plane. It's also what I know.
Once a Catholic always a Catholic, they say. It's one of the best and worst things about Catholicism, the fact that it's a club you join for life. You never stop being a Catholic, you simplylapse.
Such a great phrase, lapsed Catholic. The idea being that if you're not careful and diligent about it, you can let your Catholicism slide. Like your jogging routine, or a magazine subscription you were too lazy to renew. A lapse implies continuity; you can always take up jogging again, or pick up where you left off with that magazine.
But it's not really that easy when it's a question of belief. Like sunscreen, faith has to be applied regularly every day for best results. It doesn't really work when it's just carry-on luggage. The door may always be open, but the fact is, it's not a door that I really have any interest in walking through on a daily basis. I never offer up a novena of thanks for a full fridge or a clean kitchen floor, I'm never moved to a Glory Be when it's new season in Zambesi. I only ever pray on one single specific occasion - when I am quite literally out of my mind with fear.
This is especially apparent to me here in Peru where Catholics live their faith every single day. Driving through Lima, albeit disoriented and jet-lagged, it seems like every street corner has its own giant shrine to the Virgin Mary, each one surrounded by people who are praying as easily and as often as if it is the most natural thing in the world.
It just underlines the fact that I am not one of those people, and my plane-prayer is more of an aberration than any part of my spiritual make-up.
The fact that I don't practise belief all the time means that afterwards, when I'm back on the ground and my natural scepticism returns, I have too many questions and too many doubts for me to truly believe in my prayer. I know full well it is not so much God who puts the plane safely on the runway as skilled pilots and the application of science.
Then again, I've never landed safely without having said one either, and while I mightn't be religious I'm certainly far too superstitious to start changing my habit now.
