The virus caught up with me. Like so many others, I tested positive last week and spent 5 days cooling my heels in isolation. Thankfully I was one of the lucky ones who had light impact and no lingering effects. In fact, it gave me a few days to get some rest and catch up on some Netflix.
One day during my time of separation someone ring my doorbell. I positioned myself half way behind the door as I opened it and I said immediately, “I am Covid positive.” She jumped back. I mean it. She wasn’t close to the door, and therefore me, in the first place, but the threat of being exposed to Covid caused her to literally leap back. She was dropping something off and she said. “I will just leave it here on the step.” and then she hustled back to her car.
It made me think of all the times in history when illness or plague threatened the population with the resultant need for separation. I thought of the stories from the gospels when those with leprosy would have to shout, “Unclean.” “Unclean” as they travelled through a village or town so that people would keep a distance due to its infection rate. I thought of the years when people would not say the word cancer and the disease was barely whispered about. I thought about the years when AIDS patients were shunned and locked away for fear that they would spread their illness. I had only five days, but even in those five days, I felt the sting of others being afraid of what might happen if they were too close to me. I was so relieved when the test came back negative and I knew I was free of the virus.
The experience taught me anew the power of rejection and the isolation of being feared, not for who I am but for what I might quite innocently carry. It reminded me of the power of touch and the impact it must have had when Jesus reached out and touched those with leprosy. Was that the real miracle of healing? Bridging the gap between one well and one not? I remember when it was so revolutionary for Diana, Princess of Wales to touch those with AIDS and thereby help them feel accepted and cared for.
This past Sunday, even though I felt well, and even though I trusted that most of the people at the church were healthy, I kept my hands in my pockets so I would not be tempted to shake hands. One person said, “Can I give you a hug?” and I said, “No, I don’t think that is a good idea.” But there is something so debilitating and isolating about building boundaries instead of bridges.
I don’t have answers to this dilemma. I don’t want to get sick and I don’t want to share illness. But I also don’t like the feeling of being, “Unclean”!
