Masking in love

In the early days of the pandemic when protective measures were first being advised, my daughter lamented, “I wish the CDC hadn’t said that masks primarily protected other people, rather than the wearer. I wish they had lied and told us that masks were the simplest way to protect ourselves. We don’t seem to care about protecting others; only ourselves.”

I’ve thought of that unflattering characterization afresh in recent weeks as the nation returns to classrooms and offices amid escalating COVID variant concerns. Personal freedom is once again facing off against collective well-being. I don’t minimize the questions or the consternations. Whatever else COVID has accomplished, it has ignited a global exercise of values clarification.

To mask, then, or not? To vaccinate, or not? To require them, or not? It isn’t an easy time to be a leader in public life. Opposition to mandates has been loud. One dissent, however, perplexes me: the religious one.

There are a few Christian traditions that avoid medical interventions, but very few. Most of us routinely welcome the ministrations of doctors and their antibiotic, surgical and chemotherapeutic tools. More sharply to the moment, however, is the Judeo-Christian faith’s persistent disinterest in personal privilege, reliably favoring mutual concern. Object to COVID precautions if you must, but don’t ask religion to be complicit in that decision. One will search in vain for scriptural support of looking out for one’s own well-being at another’s expense. It’s simply not there. Instead, the Hebrew and Christian scriptures are awash in admonitions to care for others — especially the most vulnerable. “Us,” more so than “me.” We are enjoined to love our neighbor as ourselves. For his part, Jesus went so far as to note that his followers would be known for their loving, and that there is no greater love than laying down one’s life for another. Repeatedly we are commanded to love, even when it is expensive, inconvenient, or uncomfortable; even when the recipient of that love is a stranger.

I am not surprised that people of religious fervor question or resist mandates, believing that we owe our allegiance to a higher authority. I am only surprised that we weren’t among the first to mask up; that when mandates were issued we didn’t collectively respond, “You don’t need to tell us. We are already wearing them, loving our neighbors as ourselves.”

Rev. Tim Diebel is a retired pastor living in northern Warren County.