I began this essay on March 19, 2020—the Vernal Equinox—the
first day of spring. In a normal year this day is one of joy and hope. Winter
has ended and the evidence of spring’s annual renewal of life surrounds us. Here
in the Missouri Ozarks the buds are swelling on the trees. The jonquils and
forsythia are in bloom. Birds are again building their nests. The spring
peepers are peeping. The grass is starting to green up. And each day the
average temperature slowly increases on its journey from winter’s chill to
summer’s warmth.
But this is no normal year. This is the year of COVID-19,
the corona virus. This is the year of the pandemic. This is the plague year.
What started out as a “below the fold” story a couple months
ago about some nasty new virus in the Wuhan region of China now dominates the
news channels and social media. Everybody is talking about it. Presidential
election year politics has been pushed off the front page. The accounts of the
virus range from “the world is ending” panic to scoffing disbelief. Facebook
posts run the gamut from nightmare “worst case” scenarios to goofy GIFs
designed to elicit a laugh and lighten the mood.
The first day of spring dawned with COVID-19 confirmed to be
present in 157 countries with suspected cases in 4 more. By March 24 the number
of countries had jumped to 189 with 335,000 confirmed cases and 14,652 deaths
worldwide. COVID-19 is present in every country in the western hemisphere, every
country in Europe, in Australia, and in almost every country in Asia and
Africa. The only continent that is COVID-19 free is Antarctica. It has infected
the poor and the rich; the famous and the obscure; the homeless and some heads
of state. All of these numbers are rapidly rising.
The world that we took for granted just a few weeks ago has
ceased to exist. Our country is a nation that has long been known for, and has
celebrated, freedom of movement. We are a people on the move. We are in an
almost constant state of interaction with others, be in in restaurants, bars,
theaters, gymnasiums, stores, businesses, schools, or sporting events. Now suddenly,
that movement has ground to a halt. We have become a people in self-imposed
house arrest. And as city, state, and federal governments are warning, if we do
not voluntarily cease unnecessary social interaction, then the government is
prepared to enforce our isolation. Our world has drastically changed. The only
question is whether that change is short-term, long-term, or permanent.
In an almost unprecedented display of governmental
authority, church attendance has been severely curtailed. Authorities have directed
that all gatherings be limited to fewer than 10. Church worship services have ceased
altogether. The overwhelming majority of churches are cooperating with these
directives. So even within the church virtual communities have become the only
community that we have.
How are Christians to respond to a world caught up in the
midst of a pandemic? You may be surprised to learn that we can find help in our
search for answers from the early church fathers. For we are not the first
generation of believers to face that question. In fact, less than 150 years
after Christ’s resurrection a devastating pandemic swept across the Roman
Empire, one of a series of plagues that killed millions.
For a description of how Christians living in the time of
the Roman Empire faced these pandemics, I refer you to the book, The Rise of Christianity: How the Obscure,
Marginal Jesus Movement Became the Dominant Religious Force in the Western
World in a Few Centuries by Rodney Stark (Princeton University Press,
1996). Dr. Stark is currently the Distinguished Professor of the Social
Sciences at Baylor University. Chapter 4, “Epidemics,
Networks, and Conversion,” begins by describing the devastating impact that
these epidemics had on the empire, something that has been largely ignored in
the history books.
The first great pandemic, referred to as the “Plague of
Galen,” was during the reign of Marcus Aurelius. It began in 165 A.D. and
lasted 15 years. The cause may have been the first appearance of small pox in
the western world. So devastating was this pandemic that by the time it was
over between a quarter and a third of the empire’s entire population had died. Aurelius
wrote about the plague, describing caravans of carts and wagons hauling away
the dead. Entire cities and villages were abandoned. The emperor, himself, joined
the casualties when he died of the plague in Vienna in 180 A.D. (the fictional
account of his death in the movie, Gladiator,
notwithstanding).
Then from 250 to 262 another plague, the “Plague of
Cyprian,” struck the empire. This time the culprit may have been measles. When
striking a previously unexposed population both measles and small pox can be
quite deadly. At its height 5,000 people a day died in the City of Rome alone.
Keep in mind that when these plagues first hit only a few
generations had passed since Jesus walked the hills of Galilee. Christianity
was still in its youthful, vigorous, formative, years. How did those early
believers respond to the pandemics that they faced? What can we learn from their
example? Their own writings offer testimony to what they believed and how they
acted on those beliefs.
In his Easter letter in 260 A.D. Dionysius, the bishop of
Alexandria, wrote a lengthy account of the efforts of local Christians to nurse
plague victims, often at the cost of their own lives.
Most of our brother Christians
showed unbounded love and loyalty, never sparing themselves and thinking only
of one another. Heedless of danger, they took charge of the sick, attending to
their every need and ministering to them in Christ, and with them departed this
life supremely happy; for they were infected by others with the disease,
drawing on themselves the sickness of their neighbors and cheerfully accepting
their pains. Many, in nursing and curing others, transferred their death to
themselves and died in their stead. . . . The best of our brothers lost their
lives in this manner, a number of presbyters, deacons, and laymen winning high
commendation so that death in this form, the result of great piety and strong
faith, seems in every way the equal of martyrdom.
This self-sacrificing behavior on the part of Christians was
all the more remarkable when you realize that the plague arrived on the heels
of a wave three years of persecution of Christians by order of the Emperor
Valerian.
Dionysius then contrasted the behavior of Christians with
that of unbelievers:
The heathen behaved in the very
opposite way. At the first onset of the disease, they pushed the suffers away
and fled from their dearest, throwing them into the roads before they were dead
and treated unburied corpses as dirt, hoping thereby to avert the spread and
contagion of the fatal disease; but do what they might, they found it difficult
to escape.
Stark’s account of how the famous Roman physician, Galen,
responded to the 160 A.D. plague that bears his name is consistent with Dionysius’s
account:
…Galen lived through the first epidemic
during the reign of Marcus Aurelius. What did he do? He got out of Rome
quickly, retiring to a country estate in Asia Minor until the danger receded.
He goes on to note that Galen’s response “…was not seen as
unusual or discreditable at the time. It was what any prudent person would have
done, had they the means…”
What accounts for the dramatic difference in the pagan and
Christian responses? I am reminded of what happened during the 911 attack on
the Twin Towers. As thousands ran from
the towers, firefighters and police ran toward
them. Stark points to the contrasting belief systems of paganism and
Christianity as the explanation:
For something distinctive did come
into the world with the development of Judeo-Christian thought: the linking of
a highly social ethical code with
religion. . . . the notion that more than self-interested exchange of relations
were possible between humans and the supernatural. The Christian teaching that
God loves those who love him was alien to pagan beliefs. . . . Equally alien to
paganism was the notion that because God loves humanity, Christians cannot
please God unless they love one another.
Indeed, as God demonstrates his love through sacrifice, humans must demonstrate
their love through sacrifice on behalf of one
another. Moreover, such responsibilities were to extend beyond the bonds of
family and tribe, indeed to “all those who in every place call on the name of
our Lord Jesus Christ” (1 Cor. 1:2). These were revolutionary ideas.
This truth was the inspiration behind Cyprian’s instructions
to his flock in Carthage as later described by his biographer, Pontianus:
The people being assembled
together, he first of all urges on them the benefits of mercy. . . . Then he
proceeds to add that there is nothing remarkable in cherishing merely our own
people with the due attentions of love, but that one might become perfect who
should do something more than heathen men
or publicans, one who, overcoming evil with good, and practicing a merciful
kindness like that of God, should love his enemies as well. . . . Thus the good
was done to all men, not merely to the household of faith.
This difference in pagan and Christian morality was noticed
by the pagans, even by those who hated Christians. Tertullian claimed, “It is
our care of the helpless, our practice of loving kindness that brands us in the
eyes of many of our opponents. ‘Only look,’ they say, ‘look how they love one
another!’”
Even more striking is the testimony of those pagan opponents
themselves. Stark relates the account of the Roman Emperor Julian, a bitter
opponent of the Christian movement:
…Julian launched a campaign to
institute pagan charities in an effort to match the Christians. Julian
complained in a letter to the high priest of Galatia in 362 that the pagans
needed to equal the virtues of Christians, for recent Christian growth was
caused by their “moral character, even if pretended,” and by their “benevolence
toward strangers and care for the graves of the dead.” In a letter to another
priest, Julian wrote, “I think that when the poor happened to be neglected and
overlooked by the priests, the impious Galileans observed this and devoted
themselves to benevolence.” And he also wrote, “The impious Galileans support
not only their poor, but ours as well, everyone can see that our people lack
aid from us.”
Clearly Julian loathed “the Galileans.” He even suspected that their
benevolence had ulterior motives. But he recognized that his charities and that
of organized paganism paled in comparison…
As we are confronted by the COVID-19 pandemic, what lessons can
we learn from the example of these early Christians?
First, we should face
this and every crisis that comes our way with courage. Fear has no place in
the life of a believer. We affirm that God is in control. At times like this our
actions either demonstrate the sincerity or the falsehood of those declarations.
Our marriage vows include the phrase, “in sickness or in health.” Our
commitment to God demands no less.
By this I don’t discount completely the positive role that
fear can play in our lives. If a rabid dog approaches your fear response to
that threat can save your life. What I speak of is the kind of unreasoning,
paralyzing, despair-provoking fear that robs us of all hope, peace, and
confidence in a future.
Second, COVID-19 does
not release us from our obligations as Christ followers. Our discipleship
is not contingent upon circumstances. The Golden Rule was not suspended. That
means that hording or fighting over that last roll of toilet paper at Walmart
is not only socially unacceptable behavior, it is blatantly unchristian conduct
that must have no part in us. Generosity continues to be an obligation.
Third, the Christian
life is one of sacrifice. That goes double in times like these. Christ
commands his followers to take up their crosses daily. We must be the ones who
set the example for others. We may be called upon to sacrifice our comfort, our
personal resources, our money, or maybe even our health and safety.
Fourth, with
sacrifice comes an element of risk. We are promised eternal life. We are
NOT promised an earthly life free of sickness, discomfort, or pain. Nor are we
promised long life on this earth. In fact, sometimes to be obedient to Christ
means risking our very lives.
So as we face this crisis together, we continue to pray. We
continue to worship, if only in our homes or remotely via the internet. We do
our best to model the kind of prudent actions that our medical authorities have
urged us to take. We don’t engage in foolish risks. But protecting ourselves is
not an ultimate good. So if you are qualified to donate blood, for instance,
then for the sake of others you assume the small but real element of risk that
donating blood entails. The corona virus is not the only problem that people
continue to face today. And those everyday needs must continue to be addressed.
People still need their daily bread, and as Christians we may need to take extraordinary
actions to help meet those needs.
In today’s news was an example of where a willingness to
sacrifice and risk can lead the Christ follower:
An Italian priest died of
coronavirus after giving a respirator that his parishioners bought for him to a
younger patient, it has been revealed.
Giuseppe Berardelli, 72, from
Casigno in Italy's hardest-hit Lombardy region, died in a local hospital in
recent days after being diagnosed with the virus.
Berardelli had been given a
respirator – which are in desperately short supply – by parishioners concerned
about his health but decided to give it to a younger patient who he didn't know
but was struggling to breathe because of the virus.
Cyprian and Dionysius would have
been proud.
