So.

This is new.

It is hard for me to compare this Coronavirus to anything else in my lifetime.  Schools being closed.  Professional sports leagues being shuttered.  People fighting over toilet paper.

My word.

What is truly astounding to me is the global nature of the thing.  It is involving countries and systems and economies in a far more comprehensive way than even the great wars of the 20th century.  Just about everyone is dealing with the dread and death and dis-ease of this disease.

That is what is really striking me in this moment.  The Coronavirus is revealing, unveiling, reminding us of how deeply connected we really are to everyone else.  Across borders and continents and ideologies and religions and bank accounts.

This has always been true.  Before smart phones, before telephones, before internet, and planes and trains and satellites.  Intimately connected.  In this together.  Affecting one another.

Always been true.

Meaning, the Coronavirus isn’t the only thing that’s viral.

Fear and hatred and indifference and violence and self-preservation are also viral.

And so are compassion and faith and kindness and unconditional self-giving love.

The question becomes, not if you are contagious to others, but rather, how you are contagious to others.

In the second century, a great plague struck the Roman Empire that ground it to a halt.  This was more than a two week quarantine or an eight week travel advisory.  This plague lasted fifteen years.  It killed a quarter to a third of the population.  The great physician of the day, Galen, not only advised everyone to flee to the countryside; he himself fled to the countryside.

But one group stayed in Rome to care for the sick.  They were known as Christians.  They stayed to minister to those from whom everyone else had fled.  Many Christians died.  But here’s the deal: many didn’t.  In fact, the death rate among those who stayed was less than those who fled.  And not only so, those who were cared for by these Christians survived at a greater rate than those who weren’t.

In other words, there was another contagion being spread by a group who sought to follow Jesus in the Way of Jesus, the way of sacrificial, unconditional, persistent, present love.

And that contagion, that love, proved to be far more viral than the plague it confronted.

Now, hear me out on this.  I am not suggesting that we throw caution to the wind and expose ourselves freely to those who are—or might be—contagious with the Coronavirus.  We not only put ourselves at risk when we do this, we put others at risk who are much more vulnerable to the deadly effects of the virus than we might be.  Choosing not to meet in large gatherings is an act of love, not cowardice.

And of course some of us are called to minister to the sick during this time, some of us who have been trained and prepared for such a time.  But there are so many other ways we can spread the contagion of the Spirit right now.

Buying groceries for someone in a high risk group.  Checking in on another with a phone call.  (Yes, your phone has that voice app.) Lifting others to the Light in prayer and meditation.  Snail-mailing a card.  Playing a game with our kids who also feel out of control.  Making sure our neighborhood kids, many of whom depend on school for their meals, are still getting the meals they need. 

Etcetera.

And etcetera.

This is a time for caution and care, creativity and compassion.

It is a time that comes with a question:

How will we be contagious?