You would think that this period of social isolation would not be such a handicap to an introvert like myself. I have always needed time and space to be alone. Self-chosen isolation, which I prefer to call solitude, has been necessary for me to realign my soul so that I might better function as a charitable human being. While I have never seen myself as the life of the party, I can be a center of social attention and public discourse only to the degree that I can also retreat, restore, and recenter my spirit.
But you can have too much of a good thing. These days I am longing for a more normal pattern of social engagement. I miss my family. I miss my friends. I miss my church. While I am taking advantage of the various modern means of staying in touch, there’s no substitute for face-to-face, hand-to-hand, hug-to-hug, encounters. As St. Paul concludes in 1 Corinthians 13 . . . “now I know in part, then I will know fully, even as I am fully known.” I think we all hunger to be fully known, and that requires human contact.
I even think our salvation depends on it. What I mean is that salvation, while often understood as a “right relationship with God,” also requires a “right relationship with other people.” There is a strain of religious thinking that emphasizes the vertical relationship with God to the neglect of our horizontal relationship with others. This is unfortunate and, I believe, a distortion of how salvation is to be understood. The Great Commandment is a two-fold love - of God and neighbor - but in some circles all that seems to matter is one’s relationship with God. But I am convinced that one can only get one’s heart right with God if one’s heart is also right with others.
A long-ago friend once said that one’s love for God is only as deep as one’s love for one’s neighbor. Maybe. Nevertheless, I do believe that salvation is not a private transaction between the self and God, but a corporate, communal transaction - “God so loved the WORLD.” My salvation is integral to God’s activity to save all of creation. Therefore, the welfare of my neighbors (near and far) is essential to my personal well-being as it relates to my salvation.
This communal understanding of salvation has practical implications for how we behave during a pandemic. My decision to keep social distance, to wear a mask, and to comply with health expert directives, is made for the good of the community. When I overstep these boundaries in the interests of personal freedom I deny my responsibility to the common good. My unwillingness to sacrifice for the community is an act of selfishness, and ultimately a slap at the face of God’s plan to save the world.
Several years ago a reporter was in the stands at Wallace Wade Stadium at Duke University witnessing the Special Olympics where athletes were competing in track and field events. During one race as the runners sprinted down their lanes toward the finish line one of the racers stumbled and fell, sprawling on the track. The other runners, of course, noticed the mishap of this competitor and instead of leaving him behind, turned back to help him up, and with joined hands they all continued the race, crossing the finish line together.
This story illustrates the way I believe God’s plan of salvation works. None of us is saved unless all of us are saved. I’m not sure this is orthodoxy. And I suppose there might be some logical questions one might ask of such a theological perspective. But I’m content that this theology comes closer to the heart of Jesus than the flawed narratives of most substitutionary theories of personal salvation. And, practically speaking, this theology leads to a better world in which to live. Indeed, it probably gives us a kinder, more inclusive vision of heaven as well.
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