You're now free to pray about the cabin: a brief nod to God before takeoff helps calm spiritual turbulence during flight.

ONCE WHILE FLYING INTO CHICAGO'S BUSY O'HARE Airport, as the plane gently made its descent toward the runway, the nose of the plane suddenly turned upward. Engines roared. Throttles were thrown into full force. My back was glued upright to my seat, and an uncomfortable hush befell the cabin. We jetted through the low-lying clouds, presumably away from any immediate danger, and the pilot informed us that another aircraft had been crossing the runway where we were about to land.

Statistics clearly indicate flying is safer than driving. Flying, however, is a more vulnerable experience. The controls are unfamiliar, much remains hidden behind the cockpit door, and flying seems to defy fundamental laws of gravity. Air travel launches us away from the familiarity of the earth. In this moment of dizzying vulnerability, we realize that we are not in control. We must entrust ourselves to God, who guides and sustains all that exists in the cosmos, from the earth to the heavens, the stars, planets, and galaxies beyond.

With all its challenges, I have discovered air travel to be a deeply prayerful and spiritual experience. Over the past several years I have developed a prayer ritual. As I enter the plane, I trace a sign of the cross on its exterior. The sign of the cross is a sacred and ancient gesture used in Baptism, during Mass, and to bless houses. This gesture is a simple way of recognizing an object or place as holy.

The thrust of my flying prayer comes when the plane squares up to the runway, the engines ignite with a roar of energy, and it accelerates to full speed as it leaps into the sky. The physics behind it all are fascinating, yet paradoxically it can be so graceful and effortless. In this moment I sit back and pray a simple prayer: "Into your hands, Lord, I commend my spirit."

This short refrain appears during night prayer in the Liturgy of the Hours. These prayers recognize the tremendous vulnerability of sleeping, which has been characterized as a sister to death, by entrusting the human spirit to the hands of the Lord just before slipping into sleep. Similarly, as the plane leaves the human comforts of the earth, I find this prayer appropriate and peaceful.

Prayer during travel has long been practiced throughout Christian history. Egeria, the first Christian pilgrim to leave written evidence of her fourth-century travels through the Holy Land, frequently sought the blessings of priests, abbots, and abbesses. In the Middle Ages, Santiago de Compostela in Spain flourished as the premiere pilgrimage destination. Prayer both inaugurated and concluded the pilgrimage.

Popular piety hails St. Christopher as the patron of travelers. While the church has judged him to be a fictional character, many still carry a St. Christopher medal in their suitcase, clip one onto car visors, or keep them tucked away in glove compartments.

My parents must have instilled in me an updated version of this ancient and medieval traveling prayer habit. When I was a kid, we used to drive the length of Kansas for family ski trips in the Colorado Rockies. Just after pulling out of the driveway, with dad at the wheel, mom would begin praying the rosary.

WHETHER LONG AND FORMAL OR SHORT AND SWEET, prayer before and during travel is not a bad idea. No baggage scanner or bomb-sniffing dog can provide the security that God offers. This little prayer helps me realize that whether standing on solid ground or hurtling through the air in a metal tube, I am always sustained by the hand of God. Into your hands, Lord, I commend my spirit.

Air travel provides a real experience of departing from the ordinary and being flung into something extraordinary and endless. This is precisely what prayer seeks to do: to move the believer outside mundane existence and into the ecstasy and peacefulness of God. Melding air travel and prayer can be an effective recipe for a spiritually uplifting--no pun intended--and fulfilling encounter.

FATHER DARREN M. HENSON, a priest of the Archdiocese of Kansas City, Kansas.