Complicated Theology Surrounding COVID-19

Having read several works of N.T. Wright, I hold this preeminent theologian from England in high regard. So, when a friend sent me a link to his recent article appearing in digital Time magazine—accompanied by his endorsement, “I thought it was good”—I quickly clicked it, only to be puzzled and disappointed by what I read.  In reference to COVID-19, this is what Wright said: “No doubt the usual silly suspects will tell us why God is doing this to us. A punishment?  A warning? A sign? These are knee-jerk would-be Christian reactions . . . It is no part of the Christian vocation, then, to be able to explain what’s happening and why.  In fact, it is part of the Christian vocation not to be able to explain—and lament instead . . . Lament is what happens when people ask, ‘Why?’ and don’t get an answer.”

Given Wright’s outlook, a recent comment by Archbishop Carlo Maria Vigano of Rome would certainly qualify as a silly, knee-jerk response. Vigano said, “In these modern times of terrible tribulation, when the pandemic has deprived Catholics of Holy Mass and the Sacraments, the Evil One has gone into a frenzy and multiplied his attacks to tempt souls into sin.”  Martin Luther, the father of the Protestant Reformation and certainly no fan of the Catholic Church, may agree with Vigano.  Luther, amid the Bubonic Plague’s rise in his hometown Wittenberg, “maintained that the devil was the murderer from the beginning and therefore was the instigator of the misfortune of the plague” (Scriba 2006). Luther might even back Vigano’s solution: “a mass exorcism on Holy Saturday.”  

The subsequent online reaction to Vigano’s remark was as predictable as when, in 1990, the then New York Cardinal John O'Connor claimed that the devil uses heavy rock music to pollute the minds of young people. Several New Yorkers, responding to street interviews about O’Connor’s comment, said in unison, “Please, this is the 20th century, get with it!” Vigano didn’t fare much better as one netizen quipped, “This man needs a good night’s sleep. CV-19 must be keeping him awake at night; he seems a bit sleep deprived.”  So silly!

So, how do we feel about Vigano and O’Connor’s comments? I would hazard a guess that snake-handling Pentecostals of Appalachia would wholeheartedly agree with them, their Catholic faith aside. But we aren’t as backward as these seemingly unenlightened people; we’re certainly much better educated than them.  So, truth be told, we would rather not tell anyone that the devil has anything to do with the pandemic, much less needs to be rebuked (Jude 1:9).  

Instead, we would probably nod our heads—nervously though, since we vaguely recall our pastor saying something about “the devil prowl[ing] around like a roaring lion looking for someone to devour” (1 Pet. 5:8)—when imposing intellectuals, like Richard McBrien, former chairman of the theology department at Notre Dame, says, “For sophisticates acquainted with sociology and other disciplines, evil is now seen as something systematic, institutional and structural as well as personal.  [The idea of devil] is a naive medieval holdover.”  In fact, we may even agree with Pope Francis who recently quipped that “coronavirus could be ‘nature’s response’ to climate change.” 

With all that said, let me share why I was disappointed and perplexed over Wright’s short blog post. Perhaps, it was simply a matter of “the medium [influencing] the message”: writing for a secular magazine predisposed Wright to say that which is biblical—“not to be able to explain—and to lament instead”—but only in part, to satisfy the Time’s editorial board.  But, if Wright, a voluminous writer, had been allotted more words for his blog, maybe he would’ve qualified his thought.  

Had I been given the same opportunity, I would’ve said this: “We cannot categorically reject all catastrophes as God’s decretive or permissive will to judge His people (1 Pet. 4:17) or the world, since God, in holiness, has done that in the past when humans “try the patience of . . . God” (Is. 7:13).  Isn’t that why God sent the flood to wipe out almost all humans because “the earth was corrupt in God’s sight and was full of violence” (Gn. 6:11)? Isn’t that the reason God sent fire and brimstone to destroy Sodom and Gomorrah because they “gave themselves up to sexual immorality and perversion” (Jude 1:7)?  Hadn’t God “decreed disaster for [Israel], because the house of Israel and the house of Judah have done evil and provoked [Him] to anger by burning incense to Baal” (Jer. 11:17)?

Nevertheless, we cannot simply assume COVID-19 is God’s judgement since, scripturally, not all calamities—such as the catastrophic loss Job suffered or the Israelites’ captivity in Egypt—are divine judgments.  Neither did Jesus specifically say that Pilate’s killing of several Jews and the eighteen who perished when a tower fell on them, were God’s judgments (Lk. 13:1-5).
Subsequently, every claim contending that COVID-19 is God’s judgment should neither be accepted nor rejected unconditionally.  Instead, each claim needs to be appraised for its biblical warrant (or lack thereof) before accepting or rejecting it—in faith. Therefore, claims that COVID-19 is a divine judgement shouldn’t be dismissed summarily from the outset as being silly or knee-jerkish.

At least though, we all can agree with the outlook of Bede, a 7th century Benedictine monk who suffered through a severe plague that decimated parts of England for 23 years.  Like Pope Francis, Bede saw something in the environment, “associating plague with corruption of the air caused by excessive dryness or heat or rain . . .  [But] if corruption of the air was its instrumental cause, the efficient cause was God’s will.  It was a ‘blow sent by God the creator,’, ‘sent from heaven’… —and to that extent providentially ordained by God” (Maddicott 1997). Meaning what? The deadly plague remained inexplicable to Bede; nevertheless, it wasn’t necessarily “a punishment for sin” but existed, in effect, to sanctify the church.  

And it’s amid inexplicable situations such as this that we, as Wright points out, lament—feeling unjustified in our sufferings, as one psalmist says, “All this [i.e., catastrophe] happened to us, though we had not . . . been false to your covenant” (Ps. 43:17).  But, we’re also told to repent, which seems, yes, very insensitive; nonetheless, that’s what Jesus told those who, because of the aforementioned calamities, were grieving or questioning, or both: “Unless you repent, you too will all perish” (Lk. 13:5).  I am sure though Jesus comforted them as well.

If I am honest, whenever speaking to secular intellectuals, I want them to see me just as cerebral as they are.  I don’t want to be dismissed as a fool.  But make no mistake: At some point, no matter how articulate and knowledgeable you may be, if you believe the Bible as is—like believing Satan as a real entity and God’s judgment on earth as a possibility—you will be told what the Roman governor Festus said to Paul who declared, “Christ . . . the first to rise from the dead”: “Your great learning is driving you insane” (Acts 26:24).  To put it another way, the Time editors will likely reject my article reflecting the whole will of God (Acts 20:27).  That may be a small price for being “fools for Christ” (1 Cor. 4:10).  

Meanwhile, we join Luther who stayed behind in Wittenberg to tend those suffering from the Bubonic Plague.