(or, Toward a Theology of Wearing Masks)
Last year on the Fourth of July, I shared these thoughts on Facebook:
"On this day, may we be clear in our thinking: we are free from particular manifestations of tyranny. We are free to create the kind of society we want to create. We possess many freedoms that others around the world covet.
But we are not, nor will we ever be, free of our moral obligations. We are not free from our fellow humans. We are bound together now and forever. I hope that with whatever freedom I possess, I will have the courage and the compassion to submit to those around me who are in need of liberation.
Today I am grateful for freedom, but with a sobered spirit. I am bound to those caged and abused at the border. I am bound to those unjustly imprisoned all over our country. I am bound to those who live under the watchful eye of the American government with far less ease and safety than I.
I am bound to you. It is my sincere hope that I will never confuse political freedom with my own selfish interest."
Now I sit here, a year later, pondering the malignant contortions of freedom and independence that have all but ransacked this nation. According to the CDC, on July 1, 2020, the United States experienced a record high of new cases of COVID-19 in a single day: 54,357 new cases in a 24-hour period. As of today, the total number of cases in the United States surpasses 2,679,230, with a death toll of 128,024. (https://www.cdc.gov/coronavirus/2019-ncov/cases-updates/cases-in-us.html)
And yet, we still see grown adults refusing to wear masks in the name of “freedom.” To these people who ardently maintain that “freedom isn’t free,” the cost of their personal freedom (to refuse to wear a mask) is their neighbor’s life. And they believe this to be a fair cost.
With the rising death toll, and no end in sight, I find it to be absolutely irrefutable that this individualistic notion of freedom is lethal. The childish posture of a petulant adult refusing to make a minor adjustment for the common good is not only a posture of foolishness—it is a posture of violence.
Independence, as it has been widely construed in the United States, is consumed by a certain mythos which affirms individual independence as the highest value in a given society. Never mind that this holiday, Independence Day, is supposed to commemorate national independence; the holiday is routinely coopted by spirited expressions of individualism.
Over the years, I have come to believe that the notion of individual independence is fundamentally incoherent, and poses a great threat to our future. In short, I do not believe that total personal independence is worthwhile or even attainable. Here’s why.
As a practical theologian who writes about theologies of suffering, trauma, and identity in relation to preaching, I spend a lot of my time pondering human nature. One way to think about human nature is to describe what some scholars refer to as human conditions. For example, Wendy Farley employs the term “tragic conditions” to describe human life.[1] Humans are finite, fragile, and even in our freedom, we probe into a great unknowable mystery—a mystery not to be resolved in our short lifespans. Amy Pauw (taking a cue from David Kelsey) describes human conditions in terms of parity and contingency.[2] In other words, humans are fundamentally equal and inherently interdependent with one another and with creation.
She takes this concept a step further when, in a Christological turn, she argues that in order for God to be fully human in Christ, God made Godself interdependent with humans. Jesus comes to the world through Mary’s womb. Jesus was fed by Mary’s breast. Jesus was taught how to be a young man in his community. He was dependent on those around him. That is, in part, what it means for Christ to be fully human: Christ was totally reliant on those around him. Even when he emerged as an adult, he relied on the financial support of women for his ministry, and on the hospitality of strangers. Even in his death, he was carried to a tomb that was likely being saved for someone else. In all of life’s stages, and even with the freedom of adulthood, Jesus did not try to escape dependence on others. Jesus did not consider independence from others something to be grasped.
Interdependence when cast in a Christological light starts to feel a little bit scandalous, does it not? We like to imagine a fully independent Jesus. We like to imagine an all-powerful, self-sustaining Christ. And I can’t help but wonder if maybe that is because we unconsciously expect Christ to bow in submission to our god of individualism. We have been duped into thinking that individual independence is the highest, purest, most perfect value. Surely Christ embodies our highest value, right?
In an essay that totally rocked my world, Matthew Potts takes up identity theory in the writings of Adriana Cavarero and Judith Butler to develop a new direction for theologies of preaching.[3] Both Cavarero and Butler write extensively about the human condition of vulnerability. Humans are inherently vulnerable to one another. According to Cavarero, my identity is always in flux, and is always being co-constructed, or co-narrated, by those around me.[4] Butler takes this concept a bit further, arguing that not only is our identity co-constructed with those around us as they imprint upon us, but our identities are also conditioned by our social contexts.[5] In short, they argue that I do not possess some secret, pure, unchanging, true identity that exists somewhere deep down inside of me—but rather, my identity emerges and transforms over time as I am conditioned by my surroundings. I am always under construction, always in progress.
Thus, I am inherently vulnerable to you. You help to construct who I am in the world. I can push back against your narration of me if it becomes oppressive or harmful. But I remain vulnerable.
Likewise, you are inherently vulnerable to me. We are bound to one another. We are each other’s keeper. No amount of freedom I declare will rid me of the responsibility I inherently bear for your wellbeing.
Now, the reason Matthew Potts’ article rocked my world, is that he went on to note how even God makes Godself vulnerable to us in God’s willingness to be described and proclaimed in human language. Our language about God always misses the mark. We have yet to fully and accurately describe God. And yet, God embraces co-construction. God embraces interdependence.
So, on this Fourth of July, and in this season of what feels like perpetual terror, may we be mindful about our use of the words “freedom” and “independence.” Again, we are free in some senses of the word. We are free from certain forms of tyranny. We are free to create the kind of society we wish to create. We are free to choose to wear masks or not. But we are not free from our responsibility to one another.To be human is to be bound to one another. My fate is tied to yours, and yours to mine. My choice to wear a mask is a choice made in good faith that my actions impact your wellbeing.
(So, in conclusion, please be a good person and WEAR A FREAKING MASK.)
[1]Wendy Farley, Tragic Vision and Divine Compassion: A Contemporary Theodicy. [2]Amy Pauw, Church in Ordinary Time: A Wisdom Ecclesiology. [3]Matthew Potts, “Giving an Account of God: Possibilities for a Sacramental Presence in Preaching” in Preaching and the Theological Imagination (eds. Zachary Guiliano and Cameron E. Partridge). [4]Adriana Cavarero, Relating Narratives. [5]Judith Butler, Giving an Account of Oneself.
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