At the same time, though, people are leaning too heavily on the argument that the government can push you to get vaccinated in order to keep you from spreading the virus to others. That argument requires simultaneously positing that other people’s vaccinations don’t meaningfully protect them but your vaccination will meaningfully protect them. It smells like sophistry.

There’s a much stronger argument that you ought to get vaccinated. It’s not based on utilitarian “greatest good for the greatest number” moral thinking. Rather, it is based on the concepts of duty and risk.

Last night, I met a father. As we spoke about vaccines, I told him I thought he should get vaccinated. He first asked whether I thought he posed a threat to me. I said, “No, because while my vaccination doesn’t guarantee I won’t get sick from an infected person, it provides incredibly strong protection against serious illness.”

This other dad’s duty is not to me, the guy who talks to him at a cookout. His duty is primarily to his wife and kids, and secondarily to his employer and to his community.

Parents aren’t the only people with duties to others — we all have something we owe other people. But for moms, dads, husbands, and wives, there is an extraordinary duty to a few specific people. Part of that duty is to avoid needless risks.

If dad destroys his leg while attempting a reckless dirt-bike trick and ends up on the couch for six weeks, that’s an abrogation of his duty to his family. He can’t help around the house, he can’t be as much of a father or husband as he could be. The accident would also harm his employer, to whom he also owes a duty. His community will also be harmed by the loss of his services.

Getting vaccinated against COVID reduces by 90% the risk of hospitalization from COVID. That is a leading cause of hospitalization these days, and hospitals risk being too crowded to serve those with other maladies. So, that’s one more risk you are imposing on others in your community if you don’t get vaccinated — you are making it more likely that they won’t get timely care for an auto accident or a severe, deadly case of the flu.

So, opting against vaccination represents a needless risk to you and to others. If I were to refuse to get vaccinated and then get hospitalized this week, my wife would be stuck inside the house with our six kids. The start to their school year would be delayed. This would be misery for my family, which I could have easily prevented.

I would also have to miss the first weeks of teaching Sunday school in my parish, thus harming my students and the head teacher whom I assist. My colleagues would have to pick up my slack at work, and my employers would lose out on the work for which they pay me.

Of course, everyday people get sick or injured through freak accidents or as a result of taking reasonable risks. Those people aren’t morally culpable for their subsequent inability to fulfill their duties.

If I got seriously injured stopping a sexual assault, I would not bear any blame for the hardship imposed on my family — even though my actions might be risky, such a risk would be justified. If I got seriously injured playing whiffle ball with my kids, I would bear no blame, because whiffle ball isn’t risky — it would be just a freak accident.

But in the middle of a plague, hospitalization through COVID is a significant risk if you are unvaccinated.

This leaves the burden on the vaccine-refuser. You are taking on a risk of hospitalization (and, to a lesser degree, a risk of death). Can you look at everyone to whom you owe a duty — your wife or husband, your kids, your parents, your employer and community — and explain why it’s worth that risk?