Compassion in the Time of Pandemic

    I am aware of just how much human life on our planet is being disrupted in these times, and literary tropes come to mind, unbidden. Some more hopeful and helpful, some less so.

     T.S. Eliot ended his 1925 poem, The Hollow Men, with these words, “This is the way the world ends / This is the way the world ends / This is the way the world ends / Not with a bang, but a whimper.” Apparently, Eliot was upset with the demand for German reparations in the Treaty of Versailles, and what these could lead to in Europe. Eliot’s concerns were firsthand in the sense that he worked directly with German debts and reparations as a clerk in Lloyds Bank in London. Perhaps more to the point, Eliot was one of the artists known as the “Lost Generation,” those who were in their 20s and 30s as World War I unfolded. Their sense of horrific disillusionment was overwhelming. Some lost courage and hope, others lost a sense of purpose, becoming aimless or reckless, unable to believe in ideals.

     The Great Recession of 2008 created loss that has persisted for those people who could never get whole again after losing their home and more. Many of them are also part of a lost generation. But there is so much more. As an example, the opioid crisis is born of crushing despair and disillusionment in the promise of America. Hopelessness persists. Poverty persists. Racism persists. White nationalism persists. Income inequality persists, especially for women and people of color. Unequal educational outcomes persist. These and more conspire against the promise of “unalienable Rights” like “life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness.”

     It is hard to know which could be worse, the coronavirus or the collapse of the world economy. Both are serious, even overwhelming, but it is not useful to begin catastrophizing, since so much is still unknown. (Actually, catastrophizing is never helpful.) Still, these times are challenging as saving lives and saving the economy are now beginning to come into conflict with the assertion that, “We cannot let the cure be worse than the problem itself.”

     I am deeply moved by the courage and selflessness of the first responders, medical community, truck drivers, supermarket employees and so many others. Blessings on them all. May they remain safe.

     Because we Americans are so divided it is necessary to recall ancient wisdom (that was also recalled by Lincoln given the challenge of slavery). In 1858 he quoted this passage:  “And if a house be divided against itself, that house cannot stand.” (Mark 3:25, KJV) In times like these, we must reunite by overcoming our tribal divisions in order to claim our power, our courage, our compassion, and our imagination. We must seek to be guided by the “better angels of our nature.” Lincoln included this phrase in his First Inaugural Address on March 4, 1861, on the eve of the Civil War. Scholars suggest that his usage can be traced backed to Shakespeare’s play, Othello. David Blankenhorn writes that the use of this phrase by many authors from Shakespeare forward was not an aspiration toward individual goodness, but collective goodness.

     The Chinese word “crisis” is wēijī in pinyin. It means “danger at a point of juncture,” but it has been co-opted in the West to mean both danger and opportunity. As Steve Nguyen explains, “While this linguistic faux pas, no doubt, dates much further back, it was perhaps a speech delivered by President John F. Kennedy, in Indianapolis on April 12, 1959 that is most memorable. In his speech, Kennedy incorrectly said, “The Chinese use two brush strokes to write the word ‘crisis.’ One brush stroke stands for danger; the other for opportunity.” Despite this error in translation, it survives because these two sides of the crisis “coin” are so powerful.

     Proverbially, it is interesting which quote gets put in whose mouth. (Plato has a lot of quotes put in his mouth that he never said.) One, that also applies to our current situation has been attributed to Winston Churchill (1874-1965), “Never waste the opportunity offered by a good crisis.” (Or a bad crisis, which most are.) Apparently, it was first said by Niccolò Machiavelli (1469-1527). This crisis, which is very bad, has exposed deep fissures in our political, social, medical, and economic systems that must be addressed if, in fact, we are to make America, not “great again,” but whole again.

     I am also reminded of the novel, Love in the Time of Cholera, by Gabriel García Márquez. It tells the story of Fermina Daza and Florentino Ariza who first “fell into devastating love” when they were just teenagers. Fermina eventually married a doctor, believing that Florentino was not a good match. After a long marriage, her husband died, and Florentino, who tried everything possible to revive their love over the years, finally succeeded. After fifty-one years, their hearts embraced again as their love rekindled despite the Cholera outbreak raging in their city.

     Now, we need compassion in the time of pandemic. The consequences of what is happening will be borne unequally, as they always are. The poor will suffer disproportionately, which makes true wholeness elusive, but still we must try.

     I think of the scale of disruption, and wonder if we are about to lose another generation, and so much more. My recurring question is, “How shall we be made whole?” To ask it, is to insist that this must be the goal, both in the midst of this crisis, and the long, slow, difficult recovery that will follow.

     As John Donne wrote in Devotions Upon Emergent Occasions, Meditation XVII, (revised to be gender inclusive) “any person’s death diminishes me, because I am involved in humankind, and therefore never send to know for whom the bells tolls; it tolls for thee.” We owe each other a fierce loyalty.

Photo by Nick Fewings on Unsplash