By “soul” I mean an invisible entity that splits off from my physical remains at the moment of death, or shortly thereafter, and hies itself off to some other location—say to heaven (or hell), into Nirvana, or to reabsorption in the energy of the universe as we know it via physics.

The short answer? I don’t know. Nobody does. But this is virus time, and I have to think about something besides medical facts, political opinions, and personal tragedies for a few minutes.

Religion and philosophy have a lot to say about the life of the soul, whether in or out of the physical body. I’m no deep scholar. But I do know that traditional Christian theology seems to draw from a Greek (platonic) idea that body and soul are not only separate but even competing aspects of the human condition. Some Christians claim that if you abuse your body or violate the rules of God pertaining to it, your soul is in jeopardy of damnation. (See hell, above.) Some other early Christians (declared heretics in the end) claimed that only the soul matters, and what you do with your body is irrelevant. They were the party of parties, and not unpopular at the time.

Other religions have fostered elaborate funerary rituals to ensure that something that might be called soul, or the body and soul connected in some mysterious way, continues to exist after death. Hence, the Egyptian rituals of mummification, and the extensive rites of Tibetan Buddhism via The Book of the Dead. I own a copy of that on behalf of a friend, but have not yet given it serious study.

People who have survived near-terminal accidents or surgeries have reported hovering above their own bodies on the gurney watching life-saving procedures. I myself vividly remember a moment when I felt the presence of my deceased husband by way of a specific “sign,” followed immediately by a sense of his departure and benevolent farewell. Was his “soul” accompanying me through the early days of grief just to see if I’d be okay? Also, as others have reported, I have been awakened in the middle of the night at the moment of death of a loved one far away as though tapped on the shoulder. Who can explain these things that do happen?

The gospel of John reports the dramatic story of Jesus raising his friend Lazarus from the dead. Lazarus’s practical sister Martha warned, “Lord, by this time he stinketh; for he hath been dead four days.” I’ve always wondered why we never heard what Lazarus had to say after that resuscitation. Where did he go for four days to come back from? This story may speak directly to metaphorical interpretations of things reported in the Bible.

These days we often remark that someone has no “soul” who is without compassion, empathy, concern for creation, humility, and a sense of justice. We give the soul credit for mysteries like love. But all these qualities relate to our lives in our bodies in the world. The “soul” does not exist before birth, as far as we know, and does not reach back from beyond death to perform its good deeds.

On the other hand, perhaps it does.

What I do right now may ripple through the life of the earth far beyond my physical limitation. In fact, I hope it does, if it does good.

P. S. As I write this, a wild thunderstorm blows through, dumping a load of pea-sized hail and ravaging the trees. This yellow iris, which we’ve been waiting to see for many days, may be shredded now. Other buds not yet out may be spared. We’ll see. This iris and other beauties in our yard were gifts from the Jeters, church friends who have a generous garden as well as generous hearts (and souls).