Love and the masks we wear

The way ahead will not be shown by legislation, but by people who are in touch with their own deepest spirit where the spirit of God resides. ~ quote from Gabrielle Jennings tweeted by the Sisters of Mercy

Sometimes, as I'm driving, I muse on the implicit contract between me and the drivers of the vehicles around me. I am responsible for my safety, of course, but so are they; just as I am responsible for theirs. We're all strangers, but as we criss-cross, overtake and interweave, we hold each other's lives in our hands, if only for a few seconds, unconsciously trusting in each other's competence and desire to get home safely in an unscathed car. 

We're aware of safety as we drive, and all-too aware of the reckless or timorous, but we rarely think of driving safely as an act of love, towards others as much as ourselves - but that is what it is. 

I thought of this implicit contract yesterday, as I drove along the North Circular - this time, in the light of the government's announcement about ending all social distancing measures later this month. The news that masks will become optional is worrying for many people, given the current levels of infections, and various variants. Even I, double vaccinated and in reasonably good health, feel anxious at the thought of using public transport without the protection of mandatory masks. Yes, I long to return to spontaneous hugs and friendly closeness, but fear a return to pre-pandemic crowding and jostling, especially if others are unmasked.

Masks took a while to get used to, but they have become part of our 'new normal'. They are our self-protection, but also our act of love - in case we ourselves are unconsciously infectious - towards friends and strangers alike. Steamy and uncomfortable at times, yes; but if I wouldn't dream of endangering another person's life while driving, why would I do so on a train, or in a church or shop?

We are rarely called on to lay down our lives in heroic self-sacrifice - but since the start of the pandemic we have all been able to save lives in countless tiny, mundane ways. We've stayed at home, washed our hands, worn masks, kept our distance, and curbed our impatience in queues. Tiny actions, all supporting a greater effort: all gradually eroded over the months; now about to disappear, completely and officially. Will our love for each other disappear with them?

We do not yet know how our faith leaders will respond to this announcement. I really hope that there will not be a focus on a 'return to normal', which will favour the healthy and unconcerned; a return which will leave behind not only the less healthy, but also those who have lost so much, whether loved ones, livelihoods, confidence, faith or hope. This can be an opportunity to renew our unwritten contracts, and our sense of the Common Good; to be guided by our deepest spirit, which is the Spirit of God... an opportunity for each of us to witness to our call to love, tangibly and visibly, starting, perhaps, by continuing to wear our masks on a bus.