Not Killing: On Wearing a Mask as Bodhisattva Practice
This month (March) marks a year since the first Covid deaths in Sweden. At the time of writing, thirteen thousand people have died here, which in a country of just over ten million people, has made Sweden among the worst countries to live in, in terms of cases and death per capita.
That’s not because Sweden isn’t a comfortable place to live or doesn’t have a strong health care system. Actually, when I moved here from Canada in 2019 I joked that I was moving for the health care, which is renowned. But Sweden has still suffered, healthwise, because the pandemic has been handled differently here. There are different rules around what is and isn’t allowed, and Sweden, just like everywhere else, for better or worse, has its own cultural history and baggage that informs how people here think and act.
I should clarify that because of Covid, I haven’t actually been able to leave Sweden in a year, so I haven’t personally experienced what this pandemic has been like anywhere else. All I have are my friends who live in Canada, the US, India, Australia, France, and a few other places telling me about what things are like there. And of course I have what I see on social media. The result of comparing the response and management of the pandemic here to other countries has often made me thankful to be in Sweden, and equally often, has made me angry, bewildered and indignant -- and left me wishing I’d stayed at home, or moved somewhere else.
While most of the developed world introduced mask-wearing and implemented varying levels of lockdown by spring or summer of 2020, Sweden effectively “stayed open,” and until masks were finally recommended for rush-hour public transportation travel in December 2020, they were all-but non-existent -- at least in Stockholm, the capital and biggest city, where I live.
The ministry of health refused to recommend masks, arguing that there was no evidence they helped prevent the spread of the virus, and instead advised Swedes to continue practicing social distancing, stay home when sick, and not travel unnecessarily. Recently, Sweden has finally reversed course, and said that masks must be worn at all times on public transit, though I’m not sure there’s any kind of consequence for not wearing one, and the few times I have taken public transit recently, it seems like only half of the people I see there are wearing them.
Since we’re focusing on the practice of the first grave precept this month, I was reflecting on wearing a mask as a simple way to practice not killing. I had never worn or considered wearing one before last year, except once, when my dad was first diagnosed with leukemia and I visited him at the hospital. I didn’t realize that masks are not so much for our own safety as for that of other people: I wear a mask to keep you safe in case I am sick with something that is transmittable. This makes sense now, looking back on that time with my dad; the fear wasn’t that I would catch leukemia, but that he, in his weakened-immune state, would catch something I had. I wonder how many other people also experienced resistance to wearing a mask based on this understanding.
In the case of Covid, at least one in five cases is asymptomatic, but asymptomatic cases are responsible for about 60% of spread (I got these stats from Healthline). If I understand this correctly, it means that more than half of cases result from spreading from people who don’t have any symptoms. So we may not know when we have the virus (if we display no symptoms), but we can still ensure that we are not spreading it to other people simply by wearing a mask as much as possible when we go out in public.
Personally, as far as I know, and based on the tests I’ve done, I have not had Covid yet, and so wearing a mask for much for the last year has been a mere precaution: I wore a mask many times, but it turns out I didn’t actually have Covid any of those times. So in retrospect, it was technically unnecessary. But I still feel good about having worn one, since I did everything I could to keep others safe based on the possibility I could have the virus. I could have had Covid, and could have put others at risk, so I wore a mask to try to minimize others’ exposure when I had to go out.
Wearing a mask is, for me at least, a small sacrifice I can make for the good of others. Wearing a mask isn’t so uncomfortable, but I give up the freedom of not wearing one, of breathing and speaking uninhibitedly, and of showing others my face, my smile. I don’t love wearing a mask, but it can keep other people safe, so it is a comfort to me, and feels right to wear one. This is bodhisattva practice.
But it is also a sign, and a mindfulness device, for myself and others; I’m wearing a mask right now because we are in the middle of the pandemic, things are not normal and we have to be skillful. Wearing a mask, even in environments where I am the only one doing it, has been an important part of my not-killing practice this month. Wearing a mask says, “I do not want to put you at risk. I care about your well-being.” When I see others in masks I try to remember that this is the message they are sending too: they care about me and are trying to keep me safe.
I suppose the world is perpetually in crisis. Buddha said, 2,500 years ago, that the world is burning. Another way of saying it is that the world is forever transforming, and that transformation will always be entwined with our suffering, in its myriad forms. The world will continue to transform into something worse if we let it, and it can equally turn into something better than what we have right now if we remain hopeful, diligent, and act with intention.
Despite the hopelessness I sometimes feel when I look around me -- and the strange appeal of assuming that everything is ending -- I choose to believe that humanity will save ourselves and this planet. And I believe that religion, in the broadest sense -- love for and faith in one another and ourselves -- will be what empowers us to do it. For me, the concern for others implied by wearing a mask can be a small, everyday display of this feeling of love, faith, and the desire to keep each other safe.
When we awaken to our own suffering and that of others, we act with greater care, and we inspire others to do the same. Enough people acting from a place of wisdom and compassion creates another world. Buddhism can be a means of awakening for many of us.
Wearing a mask is a small, everyday Buddhist practice in a time of crisis.