Contagion, Inoculation and Shel Silverstein’s Spider

Sometimes when I give my mind free rein, it collects seemingly unrelated words and concepts and fits them together in unexpected ways. The title of this essay falls into that category.

Let’s start with the word contagion. My trusty online dictionary defines it as “the communication of disease from one person to another by close contact.” The dictionary provides an example of how the word might be used—such as a sentence declaring that "through personal hygiene the spread of common contagions is discouraged.”

There’s also a more metaphorical definition of the word contagion, which may refer to “the spreading of a harmful idea or practice,” such as “the contagion of disgrace.”

The dictionary acknowledges that the word contagion, in its noun form, is not a term we use all that often these days. But the term is far more prevalent as an adjective: contagious. We often use the word contagious metaphorically to describe an “emotion, feeling, or attitude.” We might say that someone’s “enthusiasm is contagious.” Or someone’s commitment and dedication is contagious.

When it comes to things that are contagious, if they cause illness or harm, we want to prevent them altogether, or at the very least nip them in the bud. But the good things that are contagious we want to see spread around, to be enjoyed by everyone. I would put Christianity into the good-contagion category. Which brings me to the second term in my title: inoculation. 

Once again I go to my online dictionary to discover the meaning of the word. And I learn that “inoculation is the act of implanting a pathogen or other microbe or virus into a person . . . artificially inducing immunity against various infectious diseases.”

Another form of creating immunity is to actually get the disease. If it doesn’t kill you, having had the disease may prevent future susceptibility to that illness. 

Now I’m not a scientist, but as I understand it, the essence of inoculation typically is that a person is given an altered, weakened or dead version of a disease pathogen to cause the body to build up a natural immunity. So when the disease comes knocking on your body’s door seeking entry, your body can say, “Sorry, but your type is not welcome here. I’m not going to let you wreak havoc again with my system. Bye-bye.” 

Usually, the term inoculation refers to combatting bad contagions. But, at least metaphorically, it’s possible to be inoculated against good contagions. Take Christianity, for example. I firmly believe that Christianity should be a good contagion that spreads like wildfire because people have discovered its beauty and its reward.

Unfortunately, however, the behavior of some people who wear the Christian label is sufficiently negative that it’s a real turnoff to people who otherwise might be attracted. And even though we’re speaking metaphorically here, people can become just as inoculated against Christianity as against any truly negative physical contagion. 

The process is similar. Remember, I suggested that in the realm of disease, introducing an altered, weakened or dead version of the contagion itself is what at least one kind of inoculation is all about. And subjecting others to an altered, weakened or dead version of spirituality can be more than just a turnoff, it can be an inoculation that makes a person impervious to the real thing. And it can be so effective that it becomes a permanent condition.

Which brings me to the third term in my title—Shel Silverstein’s Spider. Silverstein—a writer of stories, songs and poetry mainly for children—understands how both negative and positive influences work. His theory may not be scientifically provable, but metaphorically he’s spot-on. He explains the process in his little poem “Spider,” which says:

A spider lives inside my head

Who weaves a strange and wondrous web

Of silken threads and silver strings

To catch all sorts of flying things,

Like crumbs of thoughts and bits of smiles

And specks of dried-up tears,

And dust of dreams that catch and cling

For years and years and years…

Now we could get into major arguments about Silverstein’s poem. Is it just the “dust of dreams” that “catch and cling for years and years and years. . .”? Or do “all sorts of flying things” also hang around indefinitely? 

I go for the idea that both our good and bad experiences make a big impact, influencing us for a long time—maybe for our entire life. And when the bad outweighs the good, we’re likely to become inoculated against even what should be a good contagion—such as Christianity. 

It’s tragic when that happens. But it happens far too often. Certainly more often than many of us as Christians want to admit. Particularly if we’re the source for those negative perceptions.

While Shel Silverstein doesn’t tell us how to prevent or cure the problem, his poem describes the reality well. The vibes we send forth by our attitude and actions have a long-lasting impact that may “catch and cling for years and years and years. . .”