In January 1894, an assistant of Thomas Edison made a five-second silent film of Fred Ott taking snuff and then sneezing. It was the second ever film to be copyrighted – and it started with a sneeze.
The sneeze is a blessing and a curse, associated with good fortune and ill omen. In ancient Greece it was a prophetic sign from the gods – a sneeze could confirm the gods’ blessing of a decision. By the end of the 6th century, with plague sweeping through Rome, it had become associated with illness and death. Pope Pelagius II died from plague mid-sneeze. His successor, Gregory the Great, declared by papal decree that ‘God bless you’ was the appropriate response of a Christian when someone sneezes, to keep the wildness and danger at bay. But the sneeze could be a symbol of life too. In the Old Testament, when the prophet Elisha raises the son of the Shunammite woman from the dead, the first thing the boy does is sneeze seven times.
It may not be what allergy-sufferers want to hear as we enter hayfever season, but the sneeze is in fact a wonder of biology. The body acts rather like a carburettor, turbo-charging air and whizzing it out at speeds of up to 100 miles an hour. All kinds of things can cause us to sneeze – bright lights, temperature changes and even sex. Pity poor Patrick Webster, a former civil servant, whose sneezing fit of several hundred outbursts per day lasted for 35 years from when he was 17. It took visits to more than 60 doctors finally to discover his allergy. The culprit was muesli.
It isn’t only humans who sneeze. All kinds of creatures do – cats, chickens and lizards are just a few. African wild dogs sneeze in order to cast a kind of vote as to whether the pack should go out on a hunt. Perhaps our parliament should adopt the practice.
But why get so hung up on the sneeze? Well, Covid sharpened our fear of it, of course. In the old days you’d cheerfully head in to work with a streaming cold, but is that acceptable now? My old dad used to carry a handkerchief everywhere, freshly laundered. During the Covid years I hoped that this stylish and very practical bit of fashion might make a comeback. But, sadly, I see no evidence of its return.
I suppose, though, it is time to come clean, as it were. In an age where we medicalise everything, I have found out that I have misophonia, which is a disorder in which certain sounds trigger a wild and distressing emotional or psychological response. For me, sneezing leads to a kind deep revulsion. Not if I sneeze – I enjoy the release of that. But if someone else sneezes, especially continually, I experience an odd rage – which isn’t good, since I am a vicar. Sneezing drives me crazy, both silent sneezes and cacophonous ones. When I’m in the pulpit, I have to stop myself admonishing sneezers in the congregation.
Which brings me to the best sneeze ever, watched millions of times on YouTube. Trevor Smith, trombonist with a Salvation Army band, is captured sneezing into his instrument at a church concert in Tiptree, Essex. The sound is, well, wonderful, even to my misophonic ears.
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