Mrs. Teabody Says You Gotta Have Faith

"There are no mass production miracles. They come intimately to one and to another until, across the tired darkness of this world, there is, from within, peace on earth, good will to men."

Standing outside a lovely cottage along one of the prettiest streets I have ever walked are two small tables laden with baked goods. Next to the baked goods is a little sign explaining prices for goods and a second sign saying "Please put your money through the letter box." The baker goes on to say that hers is a "business" based on trust.

I'm in a picturesque village near Bath, England having this experience but two similar places back home in rural Pennsylvania immediately come to mind. The first is at Stoner's Apiary a few miles north of my hometown which offers fresh local honey and the other is a farm along Route 416 near Welsh Run where one can buy "brown eggs" on the honor system. In a world that seems by times devoid of the merits of behaving honorably, this simple street side stand asks the jaded twenty-first century sojourner to participate in the spirit intended. Take what you want; put your money in the box. No CCTV camera, no wires, no electronics at all-- the very antithesis of most contemporary transactions.

This little  hopeful enterprise started my brain wheels spinning about trust, about what we have faith in, about what we accept as true. And what I discovered through the process was that in many ways we demonstrate our "trust" even more so today than ever before. Pay attention. Two words: contactless payment. Look at your credit card for this symbol.

During my trip, I used contactless pay more than twenty times. It is ubiquitous across the UK from grocery stores to restaurants to street vendors. No inserting your card into a machine or doing a swipe. Wave your credit card close enough to the little electronic box and Voila! You've just paid admission for four people into a museum or settled the tab for breakfast or bought mousse at Boots. The little box prints a slip you may or may not have to sign. So far all my contactless transactions have gone off without a hitch, right down to the fraction of a pound, but the success and accuracy of the system still hinges on the data entry person's or machine's -- if you are using one of those odious self checkout stations -- being on the up-and-up.

Trust, of course, goes far beyond financial transactions The capsule I swallow every morning, the toothpaste I squeeze from a tube, the car I drive, the electrical switches I flip -- all the machinery I put in motion during the course of a day - - I trust all will go well. As do you, Gentle Reader. As do you.

Will  drivers at the next intersection stop for the traffic light? Are the utility poles strongly anchored to the earth? Will someone steal my identity, empty my back accounts, render me homeless? I trust not. Will my skeleton and muscles work together to allow me to rise from this chair to make myself a cuppa? They do. They did. These actions are ones we do without thinking. Our world works because our world works. We trust those who make it work. Perhaps like me you save every receipt? Perhaps like me you always have a pretty good idea about your financial standing in the world? Perhaps like me, you hold onto whatever it is you must hold onto? Perhaps when someone does a job well, you let that person know how much you appreciate it. I would not much like a world devoid of trust.

I have bought and paid for eggs at the place along Welsh Run. I have brought  and paid for honey at Stoner's. Perhaps you have, too. Perhaps, just perhaps, you have added a little extra to the payment box. Perhaps it's someone  just like you that makes it possible to have faith in the way our world runs.
In fact, I'm almost certain of it.