Orthodox Reflections

The serious men sat outside the temple with furrowed brows. Their veils and long sleeves swaying as they paced back and forth at balmy dusk.

“He’s bad for the common good. Does he know what he’s doing?” one of them grumbled under his breath.

“Do you see them? Those stupid sheep following him? They’re uneducated, they don’t know anything,” the high priest seated on the rough rock replied. “They don’t trust us – we know what’s best. If they keep this up the Romans will destroy us all, we’ll lose everything we’ve worked for!” The sea of fabric rippled in unison as they agreed.

“We must work with the Romans. We must show Caesar that we are compliant. If we’re obedient to him, we’ll save Jewish lives.” The sea of fabric rose and fell again.

“Do you hear what they say about him? That he heals them, that he is the Messiah? How preposterous. Just because they want something to be true does not make that real faith. Faith is found in obedience to us, their high priests. It is for the common good.”

“Should we steal him away?” one person suggested. “No, better to kill him on the road,” another offered.

Caiaphas stood up and cleared his throat, “We must work with Caesar, show him that we are his friends. Let us have their governor execute him as a sign of our fealty.” The sea stood still.

“That will surely cause an uprising – the people will be furious – think of the donations we could lose, sir just –“ He was silenced by the fiery eyes of the council.

Caiaphas continued, “The uneducated sheep, who know not what is good for them, will stay in line and Caesar will be pleased we stopped an uprising on his behalf. It is for the common good.”

* * *

The serious governor stood in the courtyard with his scribe. His brow furrowed, he thought of what to put in his letter as he paced back and forth, his long toga swaying.

“It is for the common good. Don’t they get that?” he muttered. The scribe began to write, “No, no – don’t put that in. I’m just thinking out loud.” His letter to the optimus princeps must be perfect.

Pliny was not sure how to describe what this popular Jew was doing to his people. These Christians were everywhere. They seemed to be spreading, infecting people. “A contagion,” he said out loud.

“Sir, should I record that?”

“Yes, yes, write this: ‘The contagion of this superstition has spread not only in the cities, but in the villages and rural districts as well; yet it seems capable of being checked and set right.’”

Pliny was concerned that the stability, the common good, would be upset by the Christians. But they were everywhere.

“Take this down too, I don’t want him to think I can’t handle this on my own: ‘The matter seemed to me to justify my consulting you, especially on account of the number of those imperiled; for many persons of all ages and classes and of both sexes are being put in peril by accusation, and this will go on.’”

“These Christians are bad for the common good,” Pliny repeated as he thought of all those he had to kill and torture. His scribe nodded in agreement. As he thought of the deserted temples, the tiny plumes of smoke, and the lack of civic unity – his hands shook. He soothed himself remembering the many Christians who had recanted easily, called upon the gods and offered incense to the image of Trajan. He had the situation under control.

Continuing Pliny said measuredly, “’There is no shadow of doubt that the temples, which have been almost deserted, are beginning to be frequented once more, that the sacred rites which have been long neglected are being renewed, and that sacrificial victims are for sale everywhere, whereas, till recently, a buyer was rarely to be found. From this it is easy to imagine what a host of men could be set right, were they given a chance of recantation.’”

Nodding in agreement, the scribe recorded every word faithfully.

Pliny sat down and sipped from his wine thoughtfully, “This is for the common good.”

* * *

The serious men sat behind their screens as the boxes filled with faces. All with furrowed brows.

“They say we must close the churches for the common good – this is a matter of public health. They’re right.” The heads on the screen nodded.

“Not only that,” a white-haired man in a suit interjected, “We could be sued. This is a huge liability. We could lose everything. What if someone gets sick? Our insurance won’t cover this. It would be terrible.” The furrowed brows moved up and down in agreement.

An older man with a closely trimmed beard cleared his throat, “Do you see what some people are saying? They think our churches are somehow special. They think that they’ll receive healing and not sickness from the icons and the liturgical vessels during a pandemic. How preposterous. They make us look backwards and irrational. Faith is not just wanting something to be and then hoping it will be.” A few nod in agreement and others chuckle.

“Perhaps,” a box offers, “we could allow each parish to determine how to interpret their state’s regulations –“ he is silenced by the glares from the other boxes.

Another suit interrupts, “We must show our faithful that we conform with the rules of the government. Obedience is the most important thing after all. And when they have a vaccine all of our priests should get it to protect the people and mitigate any chance of legal action.”

“It is for the common good.”

Nicholas – a member of the GOA