Invisible Enemies, Invisible Vulnerabilities

In the 1960s the United States took action to protect unborn babies from an invisible agent that had been causing them harm: the rubella virus. Rubella is usually no big deal— a little fever, a little sore throat, a rash. But when pregnant women contract rubella, the effects on their gestating babies can be devastating. Sometimes the babies die; sometimes their brains are permanently damaged, or their hearts, or their hearing, or their vision. That’s why, for more than fifty years, we’ve vaccinated children against rubella*. We expect the people who are unlikely to to be harmed by rubella to take action to protect the vulnerable.

This was a decision with costs. In addition to the expense of two doses of the vaccine and two office visits, parents may need to take time off work. Anybody who has ever soothed a fussy, feverish baby after a vaccination can tell you there are intangible costs as well. But we do it anyway: we don’t want gestating babies to suffer brain damage or deafness. We have agreed, as a nation, that those of us who are less vulnerable will take this form of collective action to protect those who are more vulnerable.

As pro-life Catholics who believe in a preferential option for the poor and vulnerable, we must allow the same principle to guide our thinking about our collective response to COVID-19.

Attempts to address COVID-19 have been marred by partisan polarization, and naturally it is difficult for anyone to know how to respond to a global pandemic, a situation that has not arisen for more than a century. But it is essential for all of us to remember our shared responsibility for the vulnerable among us. The lives of the elderly and medically fragile are precious in the eyes of the Lord, and we have a moral obligation to respond vigorously to any hint of callousness about their deaths. Those of us in the pro-life community would be aghast if someone said, “Well, we’re all going to die anyway,” as a justification for abortion; let’s reject it emphatically as a defense for cavalier behavior in the era of COVID-19. Let’s resolve to look at our choices through the lens of love for our neighbors: what does my elderly or medically compromised neighbor need me to do in order to reduce the risk of disease transmission in my community?

One way we can demonstrate this commitment is through cheerful compliance with the bishop’s directives about the sacraments. Nobody loves wearing masks, but there’s reasonable evidence that masks can cut down on the quantity of respiratory droplets spread by people who don’t yet know that they’re infected with COVID-19. If we all keep our mouths and noses covered consistently, we make it safer for everyone to return to church and we reduce the likelihood of future restrictions on public worship. It is a small cross that we can offer up fruitfully in union with the Lord’s suffering.

Is it an imperfect solution? Of course. But we would look askance at someone who declined every vaccination on the grounds that they’re not 100% effective; we know that imperfect solutions, implemented consistently, can protect communities from serious harm. Just as widespread vaccination requires us to accept small short-term sufferings for the good of our community, mask-wearing at church and in other public indoor spaces offers us a small opportunity to accept inconvenience and minor discomfort for the sake of the vulnerable among us.

This Creative Commons-licensed image of the SARS-CoV-2 virus comes from Wikimedia Commons.

*Sadly, the rubella vaccine was developed using one cell line from an unborn baby who was aborted due to in-utero rubella infection. The Pontifical Academy for Life has stated that Catholic parents can licitly vaccinate their children against rubella and that “there is a “moral obligation to guarantee the vaccination coverage necessary for the safety of others.”