Running Toward Pestilence and Poverty

In the 3^rd and 4^th centuries A.D., plague ravaged southern Europe and North Africa. It is believed that as many as 5,000 people per day were dying in Rome and one-third of Egypt was killed (two-thirds of the great city of Alexandria). [1] When it was rumored that someone in a particular village had fallen ill, it was instinct to flee the city and abandon symptomatic loved ones. It was the only rational thing to do. After all, no amount of medicinal care seemed to stop its spread, and the ancients had no knowledge of “germ theory.” It was flee or die.

Dionysius, bishop of Alexandria

But, something peculiar happened. As almost everyone who was able fled the pestilence-pounded villages, one group ran toward them—the Christians. The ancient church bishop, Dionysius of Alexandria, said:

“The most of our brethren were unsparing in their exceeding love and brotherly kindness. They held fast to each other and visited the sick fearlessly, and ministered to them continually, serving them in Christ. And they died with them most joyfully, taking the affliction of others, and drawing the sickness from their neighbors to themselves and willingly receiving their pains. And many who cared for the sick and gave strength to others died themselves having transferred to themselves their death...” [2]

By contrast, Dionysius also reported the response of the “heathens”–that is–the pagan priests.

“But with the heathen everything was quite otherwise. They deserted those who began to be sick, and fled from their dearest friends. And they cast them out into the streets when they were half dead, and left the dead like refuse, unburied. They shunned any participation or fellowship with death...” [3]

a bust of emperor Julian "the Apostate"

The pagans were running out while the Christians were running in. And, lest it seem self-serving for a Christian bishop to produce such a glowing report of Christians, listen to the words of the 4^th century pagan Emperor Julian “the Apostate”:

“The impious Galileans (Christians) support not only their poor, but ours as well, everyone can see that our people lack aid from us.” [4]

Julian was losing a public relations battle against those “impious” Christians, because they helped not only their own, but also their pagan neighbors. Rather than persecute them, as had been done in the days before his predecessor Constantine, Julian pleaded with his pagan priesthood to beat them at their own game—mercy.

Why would Christians run head long into the face of pestilential death? Why would they knowingly sacrifice their own lives just to be there to wipe the forehead of a dying pagan in his last moments? Because, that's precisely what Jesus did.

Pursuing Pain in the Incarnation

God is justice and love, and, when he looked upon his creation, which was being destroyed by the cancer of sin, he didn't flee. He didn't annihilate it. He didn't ignore it. He didn't point a finger at humanity and say, “It's your own fault.” He ran toward it in desperate love and wrath. The triune God of eternity entered the temporal, wrapping his infinite essence in humble human nature and flesh. He became poor and homeless. He was beaten. And, he was subject to authorities and to death. (Phil. 2:8) He allowed himself to be murdered by the very people who owed their existence to his creation. God's answer for the problem of pain was not to take away pain but to enter into it.

This is why our ancient African brethren “[took] the afflictions of others.” They loved their neighbors, because God first loved them. (1 John 4:19) They “[drew] the sickness of their neighbors to themselves,” because Jesus had already “[taken] up their infirmities and carried their sorrows.” (Isaiah 53:4)

Poverty and Pestilence

Pestilential illness is a very real problem in the world still today (i.e. malaria in Mali or HIV in South Africa), but, in the United States, our context is a bit different than that of the ancient Roman empire. While we don't have a plague on that horrific scale (for now), we do have poverty, a condition that likewise harkens for Christians to come redeem it.

Jesus became poor for our sake (2 Corinthians 8:9), and now we are free to run into the ghettos, the “bad” neighborhoods, the trailer parks, and the slums in order to become poor for their sake. Rather than hiding the poor away in out-of-the-way corners or building by-passes from our inner-city jobs to our cushy suburbs to avoid seeing the unwashed masses in between, we ought to be running into those neighborhoods. Christian teachers ought to be applying to work in the most violent and broken schools. Christian families should be moving into dysfunctional neighborhoods. The Christian middle class ought to be inviting the homeless to sleep in their homes.

Perhaps gang leaders, drug dealers, and entitlement politicians should have to deal with the same public relations nightmare that Julian did. They should have to ask themselves: Why do these Christians keep coming onto our turf? Why do they care so much? Why do my people keep running to the Christians for help rather than to me?

And, Christians who don't know any poor people ought to ask themselves, “Why am I not doing more?” Churches who have long-forgotten benevolence committees need to ask themselves, "how can we do this better?"

Forget About Safety

Perhaps the biggest rationalization for not helping the poor is that it is not safe. What if he hurts my family? What if she steals from me? What if they are secretly serial killers? What if they'll just go spend it on booze? What if my children are exposed to bad language and drugs in that neighborhood?

The biblical reality is that Jesus did not call his followers to a safe life. He called them to an obedient life. Jesus' closest disciples had no retirement plans. With the exception of John, they were all martyred. Safety is an American dream value, not a biblical one. There was nothing safe about the Son condescending to human flesh and becoming a poor Jew, born to an unwed woman and raised in Galilee, and there is nothing safe about being completely vulnerable to the poor. Those who do minister to the poor have countless stories of how they have been taken advantage of, but, alas, Jesus commands us to lover our enemies. (Matthew 5:43)

Rather than wringing our hands over our safety and stability, we need to be obedient to Christ and run into the messy and unsafe lives of our poor neighbors. 

On that glorious day that the clouds peel back and Jesus descends to us once again, we want to hear our King say:

"Come, you who are blessed by my Father; take your inheritance, the kingdom prepared for you since the creation of the world. For I was hungry and you gave me something to eat, I was thirsty and you gave me something to drink, I was a stranger and you invited me in, I needed clothes and you clothed me, I was sick and you looked after me, I was in prison and you came to visit me." (Matthew 25:37-40)

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For a related post on what it means to be poor and how we should go about serving the poor, read my post "Thinking Differently About Poverty".

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[1] Carl Sommer, We Look For A Kingdom: The Everyday Lives of Early Christians. San Francisco: Ignatius Press, 261-263.

[2] Eusebius of Caesaria, Ecclesiastical History, Book VII, chapter 22.

[3] Ibid.

[4] Rodney Stark, The Rise of Christianity: How the Obscure,Marginal Jesus Movement Became the Dominant Religious Force in theWestern World in a Few Centuries. San Francisco: HarperCollins, 1996, 84.