Acts (and Flights) of Faith

I'm listening to Garrison Keillor just now, who on "A Prairie Home Companion" is singing a song in tribute to the crew of the US Air flight that had to ditch into the Hudson River this week, and especially to its pilot Chesley Sullenberg. Keillor will be in Richmond tomorrow, to perform at the Modlin Center and I'll be attending.

I've been thinking about the astounding feat of that pilot and crew. Raised among aviation, the world of airports and aircraft has always been familiar and dear to me. My father Michael Mudge managed operations at JFK airport for TWA In the 1970's and just out of the Air Force, just a few miles south of LaGuardia, where "Sully's" flight took off. I loved visiting my Dad at the airport, fascinated by the smells and bustle, always mesmerized by the beauty of that old terminal, (now the home of JetBlue) and I was privileged to fly often. I still love flying, though I must admit to a moment of panic on every flight---at "throttle-back," when, having reached cruising speed, the plane's engines are slowed and the speed eases off a bit. You need less thrust to keep a plane in the air than to get it there. It's a moment that profoundly scares me. Every flight. But I still love the perspective from those heights.

I can imagine the panic of those passengers and crew. Amazingly, everyone survived. My father and I have a little fun phrase we use for bumpy or upsetting flights, which here is truer than ever: any flight you can walk away from is a good flight.

You've heard by now that once they were in the water, these folks didn't panic. I remember cynical "guides" to surviving crashes that advised, among other tactics, climbing over the backs of seats (and other passengers) to be first to exit. These passengers didn't fight to get out of that sinking plane—they helped each other. Maneuvering an airbus without power at any speed is impossible. Cruising speed is more than 500mph. Of course, without engines it would be moving more slowly. Still.

Pandemonium, surely, but when that plane stopped moving, calm and caring ruled the day—for women and children, for the elderly, for each other.

Apart from the inaugural, this is the seminal story of early 2009. I'm certain the new President will mention the water landing. Many have proclaimed it a miracle. Doubtless you've heard Mayor Bloomberg's phrase: "Miracle on the Hudson." One view I heard yesterday held that the miracle was a change in perspective. That a plane could be saved. That when we're in trouble Americans care for each other. That human beings do.

Whatever your politics, it's a shift in perspective you can't help but notice, of both recollection and renewal—not only in across our great nation, but right here in our community.

Last night, most of the theatre companies in Richmond gathered in the sanctuary of 2^nd Presbyterian Church and previewed the plays of Acts of Faith, a festival of faith-themed theatrical performance this year lasting between January 16 and March 31. Some 200 people gathered, representatives of more than a dozen faith communities and others just interested in great theatre and discussions related to the very heart of what makes us human. There were so many great performances, from the ladies of the African American Repertory Theatre, to Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart to the Altar Boyz—too many others to highlight, all terrific.

What connects these two stories for me is the sense renewed of collaborating with and caring for each other. In a spirit I've not seen since the days following 9/11: we care for one another, we're interested in one another. In a time of challenges great and small---this is a great sign for theatre---an art from that depicts human story more tangibly than any other. Whatever your religious faith---our faith in each other seems strengthening all the time.

Good flight, Sully. Good Faith, Richmond. Good luck, Mr. President-elect.

The Richmond Shakespeare entry for this year's Acts of Faith festival is Peter Shaffer's Tony Award-Winning play, Amadeus. Talk-back discussions are set for two Sundays: Feb 22 and March 1 after the matinee performances. Tickets are available here or by calling toll-free 1-866-BARD-TIX (227-3849).