God Bless the Cougher

This morning, I almost said “God bless you” to a young woman coughing. It was an involuntary impulse that was only narrowly averted by voluntary restraint. That got me thinking…

Why do we say “God bless you” to a sneeze but not a cough? A cough is routinely the vocal evidence of an illness. It could be the visible result of an invisible killer, like tuberculosis. It could reveal a person who should be home in bed but is forced to be in public (is this case, serving me coffee) because they can’t afford to miss work lest the baby starve! Disease! Poverty! Outside of the benign tickle in the throat, the tell-tale cough has a sordid story, to be sure. I think we could make an easy case for blessing the cougher.

Now, a sneeze may be a symptom of something sinister as well, but it is often produced by too much pepper. It doesn’t matter, though; the blessings come freely without judgment. That is my point. Like my 6 year-old son who demands a “Bless me!” response after every sneeze, who wouldn’t want to be blessed when they coughed as well as sneezed?

Offering a blessing is a wonderful thing. Given the opportunity, I oblige my son and the stranger in the airport with equal enthusiasm. When else do you offer such positive words to people you’ve never met? That’s why I think we ought to include coughs in our blessing repertoire. Maybe we could say “peace be on you” instead, but it offers the same kind of welcome sacred response.

Why stop at coughs? What about hiccups? Burps are clearly too unsocial (at least in the West) to provide such a holy opportunity with a straight face, but hiccups have potential. We’re already armed with a host of cures to try. Why not offer a blessing instead?

We’ve all heard the etymology of the “God bless you”. Apparently superstitious theologians of the middle ages thought that the sneeze opened the soul’s door for some roaming demon to enter. This naturally warranted the blessing of God for protection. There was no dichotomy of body and spirit in those days. The sneeze threw back the curtain and reminded anyone within earshot that blessings were desperately needed and the words offered by the immediate community were the ordained vehicle. It wasn’t about good health but about the human condition and the chance to participate in another’s salvation, if you will. They were actually protecting the souls of their sneezing comrades.

We don’t buy that anymore, of course. We bless the sneezer to be polite not to fight evil. But even that is rare chance to offer something to a stranger as well as a friend; a welcome opportunity for words that mean to bless, comfort, and connect.

Who wouldn’t want more of that?