"Are you Christian?" He wondered. "Because that's what counts. Knowing that Jesus will let you into heaven." His statement held the intonation of a question. He was worried for his friend next door. They were Catholics (he a Baptist) and because they prayed to Mary and not Jesus he couldn't see how God would let them into heaven. "You only get in through Jesus and not through Mary." Another statement that sounded more like a question. I assured him that my reading of Christianity was that God was kind and understood things we didn't, and that I was sure God would let his neighbor into heaven. We talked some more and parted as friends.
Our interaction made me think. If religion has a useful purpose it must be to bring comfort and solace in life's extremities. Religion at its best is about meaningfulness and hope. I suppose, too, that religion ought to lead to a good life, a life that is other-regarding and less merely self-regarding; in a phrase "a loving life." At their most profound all the world's religions share this in common.
I wondered how religion had helped the ever-so-sad man. To be sure he clung to the hope that his wife was in heaven and that one day they would be reunited. But his worry for the woman next door overshadowed and cast doubt on his own hope. His wife in heaven; his neighbor in hell, and all because she prayed to the wrong person. It wasn't even a case of "good people go to heaven" while "bad people go to hell." It was about religious ritual. Do the right ritual, use the correct language, and all will be well. Mess up here and your eternal future is determined. Religion like this distorts meaning and corrupts hope. It divides and condemns. I felt desperately sorry for the man by the lake. I fear that at this point his religion had let him down.
I pondered too the manner of his wife's death. I can scarcely imagine what he must have felt like helplessly watching his beloved barely able to breathe, taken from him by the pernicious virus. May 2021. The vaccinations have been available since the turn of the year. Their age group were open to receive the vaccine in March. Had she received the vaccine and had a breakthrough infection? That's possible but unlikely. Breakthrough infections rarely lead to death, unless she had a serious comorbidity. Was she waiting to be vaccinated when she became sick? Tragic if so.
I shall never know. But I hope they had not taken on board the religious view that God would take care of them, that the virus was not really severe anyway, and that in one of a dozen ways vaccination was against their religion—a product of the devil.
Vaccine hesitancy is strongest among the sincerely religious. And here such religion let's us all down. It sets up a false choice: God or science; faith or medicine. If "God will save us!" might it be that God saves through the "miracle" of vaccination, through the loving care that suggests to save you from sickness I ought to be vaccinated?
Religion, at its best, leads to a loving life. A loving life will not ultimately shield us from death, for we all die. But my loving life—other-regarding toward you, seeking your well-being—suggests that I continue to do all within my power to shield and protect you from harm. To mask, to be vaccinated is profoundly loving.
I doubt I will ever meet my sad friend again. I hope he finds comfort. I hope he finds love, and in love finds meaning.
Be kind to yourself and your loved ones.
+Ab. Andy