At the Chicago International Airport. I’m sitting near my gate waiting for a connecting flight to New York; directly across from me is a flight to Tel Aviv. A large group of Hasidim is gathered at the gate, and some of the men seem to be migrating to a large, blank wall next to the waiting area. As if prompted by some unspoken cue, they all begin davening. Soon there are about twenty men of various ages all taking part in this ritual of prayer, silently bowing, swiveling at the hips, or simply nodding their heads to their own private rhythm. Passersby turn their heads, many slow their gait, exchange puzzled or amused glances. Now this is something you don’t see every day at the airport! And it’s true: the spectacle is amusing, if for nothing else due to its blatant incongruity. Rather like a taxi driver rolling out a prayer mat while parked at a gas station, or a Catholic holding rosary beads and whispering a Hail Mary in line at the grocery store. The intrusion of prayer in the midst of our an secularized, capitalistic society appears almost like the most radical act of self-expression.