Long Spoons: Compassion from a Distance
COVID-19 is a cruel master. It inflicts intense physical suffering and death, steals economic security, and creates fear and trauma wherever it goes. But perhaps its meanest trick is to demand that we remain far away from each other in order to be free from it.
How can we help each other at a distance of 6 or more feet?
There is an allegory attributed to Rabbi Haim of Romshishok—a preacher who traveled from town to town delivering sermons about how humans were meant to treat each other. He often began his talks with the following story:
I once ascended to the firmaments. I first went to see Hell and the sight was horrifying. Row after row of tables were laden with platters of sumptuous food, yet the people seated around the tables were pale and emaciated, moaning in hunger. As I came closer, I understood their predicament.
Every person held a full spoon, but both arms were splinted with wooden slats so he could not bend either elbow to bring the food to his mouth. It broke my heart to hear the tortured groans of these poor people as they held their food so near but could not consume it.
Next I went to visit Heaven. I was surprised to see the same setting I had witnessed in Hell – row after row of long tables laden with food. But in contrast to Hell, the people here in Heaven were sitting contentedly talking with each other, obviously sated from their sumptuous meal.
As I came closer, I was amazed to discover that here, too, each person had his arms splinted on wooden slats that prevented him from bending his elbows. How, then, did they manage to eat?
As I watched, a man picked up his spoon and dug it into the dish before him. Then he stretched across the table and fed the person across from him! The recipient of this kindness thanked him and returned the favor by leaning across the table to feed his benefactor.
I suddenly understood. Heaven and Hell offer the same circumstances and conditions. The critical difference is in the way the people treat each other.
I ran back to Hell to share this solution with the poor souls trapped there. I whispered in the ear of one starving man, “You do not have to go hungry. Use your spoon to feed your neighbor, and he will surely return the favor and feed you.” “You expect me to feed the detestable man sitting across the table?” said the man angrily. “I would rather starve than give him the pleasure of eating!”
(Moshe Kranc, The Hasidic Masters’ Guide to Management, Devora Publishing, 2004, pp. 108-109).
We are seeing experiences of both heaven and hell play out in this pandemic. Some of us are feeling immobilized by loneliness, concern for our own lives, boredom, and hopelessness. We may be feeling angry and suspicious of others, asking why not everyone is social distancing or wearing a mask out in public. Others may wonder why they have to sacrifice by self-isolating to help people they don’t even know or perhaps worse, dislike.
At the same time, we are witnessing medical providers extending their arms to care round-the-clock for the sick and dying. We are seeing teachers reaching out to their students in creative ways. Schools are expanding their services from providing education to making sure that families have access to meals and childcare. Individuals are sewing masks, delivering groceries and supplies, and supporting local organizations to help them stay afloat during this difficult economic time. And finally, most of us who can are staying home to flatten the curve to make life easier for our already overworked health care workers.
Rabbi Haim’s vision of compassion through cooperation is within reach.
One reality of our human experience that this global tragedy has uncovered is that we depend on each other to survive and thrive as humans, as a global community.
We may have to get creative during this time. But when we develop our capacity to extend our kindness to others, something happens. Isolation becomes connection. Anger dissolves into understanding. Compassion is powerful. It can change the way we see and experience the world.
Maybe COVID’s cruelty has another side. It’s insistence that we slow down gives us the opportunity to ask ourselves what kind of world we want to come back to when the worst effects of the virus have subsided. Perhaps we can begin to build that world by the actions we take right now to create more versions of heaven in midst of this difficult time.
What kinds of creative ways are you finding to cooperate from a distance during this pandemic?
