Driving Your Life

Rev. Peter Friedrichs

January 6, 2008

Driving west on Baltimore Pike from Springfield to Media, there is a point just before you reach the intersection with Route 252 where the two westbound lanes narrow to one. You know where I'm talking about, right in front of the Acme Supermarket. At this point, the right-hand lane becomes a "right-turn only" lane, so that if you want to continue into Media you have to be in the left lane. The right lane is clearly marked "right-turn only" with both pavement and overhead markings. At certain times of the day, this intersection, Baltimore Pike at 252, can get pretty backed up, with cars proceeding straight lined up for half a mile or more. I know, because I've sat in that line, waiting to get through the light. And because I've sat there, I've also come to know that there are people who don't play by the rules. Instead of waiting in the straight-ahead lane, they zoom up the "right-turn only" lane and then either bully or beg their way into the straight-ahead lane just before they reach the intersection. I've seen it happen dozens of times. And although when we first moved here last year I sometimes forgot that I needed to be in the left lane to go straight, and consequently had to rely on my out-of-state plates to plead for forgiveness when I nudged over at the last minute, I suspect that most of the drivers who use this trick are highly experienced. They know what the rules are, but they choose not to follow them, seeking an unfair advantage over those of us who stay in our lane. As I sit in the stalled straight-ahead lane, watching car after car repeatedly edging over, as the traffic light cycles through its colors without the line moving but a few feet, I find myself getting more and more aggravated, and more and more tempted to join the ranks of the scofflaws.

As Americans, we spend a lot of our lives behind the wheel. If you're like me, you probably drive between 15,000 and 18,000 miles every year. At an average speed of 35 miles per hour, that clocks us in at somewhere in the neighborhood of 450 to 500 hours per year, or up to nearly an hour and a half per day. And if you're like me, you probably don't strictly follow the rules of the road all the time, every day. My alternate title for this sermon was "Life at 73." That's because when I'm driving on the highway in a 65 miles per hour zone, I like to drive between 70 and 75 miles an hour. It's what I've found to be the optimal speed. As fast as you can go while still being guaranteed not to get a ticket. I would venture to guess that most of us bend the traffic rules, especially when no one's looking. We don't always come to a complete stop at stop signs, or drive 25 mph through town. And until I got on board with local custom, I was nearly rear-ended several times when I actually slowed down at a yellow light. I'm also fascinated by the "left on red" phenomenon I've discovered here in southeast Pennsylvania. Apparently, at least three, and up to five, cars are allowed to make a left turn at an intersection after the turn arrow has gone to red! That one took a bit of getting used to.

It's a well-documented fact that most people believe that a large proportion of those who sit behind the wheel of a car are incompetent, or at least inconsiderate, drivers. It's also a fact that when you ask anyone in particular, they'll tell you that they are a courteous and proficient driver. In a room full of drivers, no one admits that he's the one who takes the short cut through the gas station to avoid a traffic light, or she's the one who applies her mascara while she passes on the right flying down the Blue Route. It's always the other guy who's a jerk. The author of the "Slow Down Now" blog has a theory about this. He writes:

Whatever our particular "specialty" might be, I do think that the way we drive says a lot about who we are. My practice of driving 73 on the highways tells you that I am one who is willing to push the proverbial envelope, but not to excess. A reserved risk-taker, if you will. I am also a moderate tail-gater, which I think reveals a level of impatience that is consistent with my make-up. I'm also willing to ignore rules that I think are either unjustified or just plain dumb, so you'll often find me cruising through some 25 mile per hour zones at 35 or 40, and I frequently glide through the ubiquitous 4-way stop signs that dot the landscape.

Having thus revealed some of my own faults and foibles, permit me to interpret some of the characteristics of other, anonymous drivers. I'll apologize in advance if I step on any toes in the process. Speeding, for example, says a lot about a person. I can imply that those who speed - not the eight mile an hour over's like me, of course, but those who barrel down the turnpike at 80 and faster - have an overly inflated sense of themselves. They must think themselves very important people with important appointments to keep. Either that, or they're incredibly devout religionists, with a firm belief in the afterlife and their assured place in heaven. All of us who "put the pedal to the metal," as Meg Barnhouse said in the reading, have one thing in common. Whenever we rush, when we feel pressed for time, behind schedule, or overwhelmed by the tasks we face, we are responding from a place of scarcity. Rather than resting in the belief that the universe is abundantly providing and forgiving, we are seeking literally to make up time, to control something that is ultimately beyond our control. Perhaps that explains why the traffic always seems at its worst when we're in the most hurry. Contrast the speeder with the driver who motors along at the posted speed, or less. Who seems oblivious to those rushing past her and who, as we say, is "taking his own sweet time." To us, these people don't seem to have a care in the world, or at least they seem to have all the time in the world. The next time that you get stuck behind someone who is driving the speed limit, ask yourself which of you is more calm, more serene, more spiritually grounded at that moment.

We can probably say the same thing about drivers who run red lights as we do about those who speed. But there's an element of selfishness that goes along with rushing up to the yellow and continuing through the red. People who do this don't leave room for those who are entitled to have it. Running a red light is really a form of theft, pure and simple. It's taking what isn't yours, robbing others of their rightful turn. It's the same for those who shoot up the right-hand lane of Baltimore Pike and barge into the left lane at the last minute.

While we are all guilty of at least some of these infractions at least some of the time, we are more often than not the victims of these petty crimes. We cannot control how others drive, but we can control both how we drive and how we respond to others. That's why I'm advocating that we consider driving to be a form of spiritual practice. There is an old Sufi tale about a holy man and his student walking along a road. In the distance up ahead they see a great cloud of dust following a carriage that is approaching at a high rate of speed. Seeing that the driver is not going to slow down his team or diverge from his path, the wise man and the student dive for the ditch, narrowly escaping injury. After the carriage has passed, the student leaps to his feet, ready to curse out the carriage driver. But before he can, the wise man yells to the rushing carriage, "May all of your deepest desires be satisfied!" Amazed, the student asked his teacher how he could offer such a blessing to someone who had nearly killed him, to which the wise man replied, "Do you really think that if their deepest desires were satisfied that they'd go around treating others as they treated us?"

We are unable to slow the speeder, or stop the red light runner, or keep the lane-crasher from doing what he does. But we can choose to bless him rather than curse him. No easy task, for sure. Perhaps blessing these drivers may be too much of a stretch for us mere mortals. But we could, when we are cut off by another driver, take this as a signal to be grateful. Grateful that we are not in that much of a hurry, or that we know others who are more considerate. The Buddhist monk Thich Nhat Hahn tells us that we can use certain signals in our everyday lives to bring us back to our spiritual center. He suggests that when the telephone rings, we take this as a signal to smile and a reminder to breathe. Perhaps we can use a speeding or aggressive driver to our own advantage. We might also even offer a little prayer or good wish to the driver who has offended us.

I would also encourage us to engage in another spiritual practice while we're driving, the practice of hospitality. This may seem like a stretch, since we think about hospitality in terms of welcoming people into our own spaces - our homes, our church. But extending hospitality to the stranger, in its broadest sense, is about opening up our hearts and our spirits, making room for those who are different from us, and responding to those differences with grace, courtesy, and, if necessary, forgiveness. Hospitality stems from generosity, which flows from an appreciation of the abundance of the universe. When we graciously make room for that person who wants to cut in front of us in the traffic line, we are affirming our trust that there is plenty to go around. Plenty of room, plenty of time, and plenty of forgiveness. And perhaps that simple gesture will be noted and received by someone who needs to be reminded of it most.

The other thing we can do is simply to slow down. While I was in seminary, driving the two hours from Portland to Boston twice a week (usually at 73 mph), I tried an experiment. For a full week, I committed to driving the speed limit and no more. 65 where it was 65, 55 where it was 55. Even 10 miles an hour around campus where the posted speed was that slow. I'll admit that it wasn't easy, and when the week was over I went right back to life at 73. But during that week I discovered a couple of things. First, driving this way only added about 10 minutes to my overall trip, so it didn't have a big impact on my ability to get where I wanted to go when I wanted to get there. The other thing I noticed was that at that slower speed I was much more present to what was going on around me. I enjoyed the loosestrife blooming along the highway. I saw red-tailed hawks sitting in the trees by the side of the road. I felt safer poking along in the right lane than I did barreling down the left. And I arrived at my destination more rested and relaxed, less tense than usual. Surprisingly, it made for an all-around more pleasant experience.

Allstate Insurance Company is currently running an ad on television that shows, in turn, someone working at a computer at their desk, children playing on a swing set, and a family sitting around a dining room table, enjoying a meal. But the desk, the swings, and the table are not nestled into some suburban home on a quiet street. Instead, they are sitting squarely in the middle of an eight lane superhighway, with cars speeding by on both sides. The tag line of the ad tells us that "The road is not full of cars. It is full of people." "The road is not full of cars. It is full of people." This simple phrase reminds us that each time we get into a car and drive out of our driveways, we are engaging in a form of social intercourse. It's easy to forget that when we're ensconced in our separate machines, surrounded by plastic and sheet metal, whizzing past each other at a phenomenal pace.

Many of us go to great lengths and great expense to discover the deep spiritual teachings of the world. We go on retreats. We seek out spiritual guides. We consult therapists and counselors and yoga instructors. But the simple fact is that, no matter the barriers that may exist between us, every encounter we have with another being is an opportunity for spiritual growth and transformation, if we can only see it as such. Even our passing encounters with rude, inconsiderate and selfish drivers. May we all attempt to engage our best selves and our highest purposes as we travel down the road together.

Closing Words:

In an essay for the NPR series "This I Believe," former secretary of state Warren Christopher writes about driving down a two-lane road at night as a car approached from the other direction. "As we passed each other," he writes, "I caught the other driver's eye for only a second. I wondered whether he might be thinking, as I was, how dependent we were on each other at that moment. I was relying on him not to fall asleep, not to be distracted by a cell phone conversation, not to cross over into my lane and bring my life suddenly to an end. And though we had never spoken a word to one another, he relied on me in just the same way."^[2]

^[1] Slow Down Now (a blog)
^[2] This I Believe, Jay Allison and Dan Gediman, eds (Henry Holt, New York 2006) 34.

This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial-Share Alike 3.0 License.

---

Did this sermon bring forth any special feelings, thoughts or concerns that you would like to share? Consider this link as providing you with an opportunity to talk back.