A friend posted on Facebook about wanting to hear the number of deaths by all causes, not only COVID deaths, and how we would be shocked by the amount of death surrounding us. Yet because we’re ignoring all this death, we’re almost comfortable with it.

I responded thusly:

“Not to be too contrarian or to sound unfeeling, but while every life indeed has value, and all death is [tragic], we simply can’t expect every person to care about 9(?) billion people at one time. For one, we can’t control when/where/how everyone dies. Not even our own.

“Sure we can take certain measures to live healthy, and encourage/help friends and family do the same (but only to an extent. They still have the freedom to make their own choices). Life is hard/stressful enough to worry about everyone else on this planet.

“In other words, we should concern ourselves with what we have the power to influence or control (which ultimately is ourselves and little else), not with what we can’t. Eliminating death is a power we simply don’t have.

“And to add one more thing, I submit that to concentrate so much on country/worldwide deaths—by whatever means—is unhealthy. ‘Tis better to concentrate on living.”

To change directions a bit, I’ve been trying to write other entries, but I can’t seem to finish any of them. It’s part of why after that little burst last week, I’ve been largely silent. No words I’ve written seem to be good enough. When that happens, it’s usually because I’m avoiding the one subject I need to write about.

Part of it is what I wrote above, but also how we’re treating each other now. Yes, we like to say, “stay safe,” and “we’re all in this together,” yada, yada. We might even mean it. They’re lovely-sounding little platitudes that may make us feel good for a moment, but are ultimately useless. They don’t help those who can’t work and feed their family, or a person who’s in forced isolation, lost all hope and is contemplating suicide.

One of my concerns (and I have many in case you haven’t noticed) with all of this is how we’re now assuming every person we see–and not even come into contact with–is carrying the virus, and that to get even remotely close to them, we will automatically catch it and therefore die (or at least get deathly ill and spread it to others who will therefore die). We also assume that maybe, just maybe, because my coworker’s cousin’s best friend’s brother had it, we are now infected, too.

It’s the new leprosy where we all must hide ourselves away, and if someone comes close we must assume they (and we) are infected, back away and cry, “Unclean! Unclean!”

We’ve all become paranoid germaphobes, and worse, we are more than happy to isolate ourselves and others, and gleefully give up every freedom we’ve enjoyed (and taken for granted) for an unknown possibility of being infected with a virus that has nearly a 99% overall survival rate.

When Jesus described us as sheep, he couldn’t have been more accurate.

Okay. I feel better now. Next time I plan on my entry being a bit more hopeful and encouraging. I thank you for reading.