Thaw and Blossom
More and more, we are speaking of the pandemic in the past tense. Humanity has come together and reanimated like a bear awakening from a long winter’s hibernation. We are slowly inching back towards normalcy — parties with friends, dinners with extended family, work meetings in person, air travel, and movies in theaters. That we celebrated my son’s high school graduation a few weeks ago with nearly a hundred family and friends, without masks and social distancing is a testament to the power of science.
The rapidity by which multiple effective vaccines were created to quell this century’s greatest medical crisis is truly astounding. Diseases of lore such as the black death, smallpox, tuberculosis, and polio were sentences of death, debility, and suffering. Each of these maladies cast a shadow of pestilence over humanity for decades, even centuries. Yet for our current day malady, we have multiple choices of effective vaccines created in one year which renders the pestilence nearly innocuous. These vaccines have restored our courage to venture out of our homes, hug old friends, and dream of returning to lives that once were. How did this seemingly magic remedy come to pass?
We witnessed the scientific process in the public space; from inception of a hypothesis, research in the lab, clinical trials in thousands of patients, and finally the real-world application with many (and hopefully all) of us getting a shot on our shoulders. Yet despite the simple elegance and empiricism of the scientific process, there is a basic question regarding the virus that has persisted since day one — where did COVID-19 come from? Early on, we were told that it likely originated from bats then jumped to other animals in a wet market in China and then the final fateful leap to man. Early in the pandemic, many scientists dismissed the notion that the virus leaked from a lab. However recently the current US administration reopened an investigation into the possibility the virus came from a lab. This discussion can easily be hijacked by political interests, biases and agendas. However, what is the current scientific conclusion? Frankly, we just don’t know.
How is that possible? Science not only cracked the genetic code of the virus but then reverse engineered effective treatments in record time; yet it cannot answer the basic question of where it came from. This underscores a simple truth: science and the universe are complicated and nuanced. Scientists will create a hypothesis, experiment, and then either be wrong or right. Sometimes they change their minds. Initially we believed the virus spread largely on surfaces. Then we realized it was primarily aerosolized. Masks mandates eventually came out; probably too late. But we have to understand that science and the empiricism that serves as the foundation of the scientific method is limited. At some point, its reach and confidence ends. Sometimes scientists change their minds and shift course. This is not a sign of good faith or bad faith. But rather, for me, a reminder of the value of faith in my life.
In March of 2020, my local mandir, a Hindu place of worship, in solidarity with the worldwide effort to curb the spread, closed its doors. There is an interesting dichotomy in Hinduism between the individual’s pursuit of self-realization (some call it nirvana, I call it Brahmaroop) and the central role of communal bhakti and devotion. The shuttering of the mandir doors eliminated the ability of the community to come together in celebration, prayer, and service. Services were continued, digitally, but there was a loss of the intangible synergy of physical connection and communion with others. For me and for many that I know, there was a feeling of visceral loss. The digital connection, though valued, could not replace real human connection. There was a void we could feel.
That is why the reopening of the Mandir in June of this year was met with such a sense of rejuvenation and reunion. Seeing the faces of those I cared for but had not seen in over year, filled me with joy and hope. Unfortunately, there were some members of the congregation who were absent, lost to the pandemic. During a moment of remembrance and prayer for those that were lost, I sat next to a weeping friend who missed his father who perished to the virus. There was not a dry eye in the assembly. But despite the pain, the ability to finally share the loss together lessened the grief and lightened the load of sorrow. The ability to rekindle and reinforce faith provided hope and remarkably a spirit of triumph despite the dark, lost year.
As a physician, I believe in the power of science, the scientific method, and empiricism. What is the data? Where is the evidence? These are common refrains heard through years of medical training and during medical conferences, discussions, and debates. However, this does not exclude the need for faith in my life. Rather, understanding and accepting the limits of scientific knowledge, reinforces my dogmatic defense of faith and spirituality. For me it is not a binary choice of empiricism versus faith. It’s just not that simple, and they are not mutually exclusive. Because as we’ve all experienced dramatically and traumatically over the last year, we need both. Science has gifted us the ability to finally venture out of our homes. Faith gives us a reason and purpose to do so. Science allows us to soar through the stars. Faith keeps our feet firmly on the ground when everything around us is up in the air. Science gives us a fighting chance against disease and premature death. Faith provides us the strength and solace to find peace with the simple yet universal truth — death, though delayed, can never be denied. Science provided the thaw after a long cold year. Faith provides the warmth so that we may blossom once again. My mandir is the place I go to foster and replenish that faith and feel that warmth. And I am eternally grateful to science for making possible its reopening.
Dr. Kashyap Patel, Cardiologist
Atlanta, Georgia
