Unclean!

I had a medical test my doctor wanted me to undergo which required me to go to an outpatient imaging clinic the other day. As soon as I walked in I saw obvious visual evidence that all was not well in our world today. The sign on the door with instructions for people with certain symptoms, the ladies behind the counter wearing the face masks, the mother in the waiting area holding her 7 or 8 year-old daughter (also masked up) on her lap and desperately trying to keep her from wandering around the waiting room—all were indicators of a new and fearful time in our country. Although I’d been well aware of the concerns over the Coronavirus, I’d not been on the receiving end of those concerns until this visit to have my chest scanned.

After I completed the required privacy notifications with a pen provided by the ladies behind the counter, I tried to hand the paperwork and pen back to them and head to the waiting area to, well, wait. But no, that wasn’t going to happen. They took the paperwork, but the pen, by virtue of its contact with my hand, had suddenly become the focus of all things viral.

“The pens don’t get reused. Either take it with you or throw it away, but we don’t want it.”

Well then. I felt like I should be calling out, “Unclean! Unclean!”, as I made my way to the waiting area, accompanied by the contaminated pen—my only friend in that suddenly unwelcoming and stress-inducing facility. I recognize (and recognized in the moment) that I was overreacting to what was a fairly benign disruption to my sense of self-worth, but the reaction was almost automatic. It called forth feelings I’d thought long-buried and forgotten—feelings of isolation and self-loathing, of inadequacy and unworthiness.

Suddenly I’m back in high school. It’s my freshman year, but I’m not sure if it’s my first or second attempt to clear that particular hurdle. I have gotten my (government-provided) meal from the serving line and I am standing in my out-of-fashion clothes and my Salvation Army coat (at least a size too big) looking for a place to sit. It’s a difficult task every day, not because there aren’t plenty of seats but because there are so few places where I feel I am worthy of sitting. Basically, I’m looking for a table where no one else is sitting or, at a minimum, where I can sit by myself several seats away from anyone else. I learned social distancing early. I was self-isolating when self-isolation wasn’t cool.

I finally find an unoccupied table and begin to eat my lunch as rapidly as possible, while looking around furtively to make sure no one is noticing me. Not long after I sit down, a boy and girl sit down across the the table from me. Instantly, I begin looking for an escape route. No reason to, except for my own poor sense of personal worth, but there it is—my reality. The table we are at is large and round. The interlopers are on the opposite side of the table from me and fully absorbed in each other, paying no attention to me whatsoever. It doesn’t matter. Years of conditioning have taught me there is no place for me here. Unclean! Unclean!

I stand, my lunch unfinished and suddenly unwanted, and make my way . . . somewhere else. Anywhere else. As I walk away, I hear her voice (or his, I misremember now) calling after me, “Where are you going? You too good for us? You don’t have to be so stuck up!” And I think to myself, I am the furthest thing from too good. Unclean! Unclean!

Now, I know there was no personal animus in that refusal to reuse the pen I had just used to complete that paperwork, and my rational mind was able to overcome the irrational call-back to my childhood and adolescent years. I sat in that waiting area and thought about my struggles to find a place in this world, a place to belong, and all the paths I had walked at the Father’s leading to bring me into the presence of love, kindness, and acceptance. And then I thought of all of those who have never experienced the kind of love and acceptance Heaven offers, who go through life calling out incessantly, each in his or her own way, “Unclean! Unclean!”. And then I wondered how I have contributed to others’ feelings of worthiness or unworthiness, of being loved or being shunned, and I vowed to myself (again) to let my experiences guide my existence, to let my history lead my heart.

We may need to isolate socially a while longer, and that is well and good. But let us not isolate from one another spiritually. Reach out to those you know who maybe need an encouraging word, a telephone prayer session, a comforting card. Find new connections, and strengthen long-held relationships. Lift each other up in prayer, and renew our own commitments to selflessness and kindness. Probably I’m not the only one who has been through the wilderness alone and lonely. Probably you have had that experience at times yourself. Probably we all struggle with our sense of uncleanness, of unworthiness, but we have been captured by Christ. We have a place that is ours by right of our position as sons and daughters of the King. But that place is too large for just us, isn’t it? We’ve got room to spare—room enough for all the unclean and isolated among us. Let’s go find them and bring them home.

Peace.