A theological and ethical analysis of the response of the Eastern Orthodox to the COVID-19 pandemic

Abstract

The response of the Eastern Orthodox Church to the COVID-19 pandemic reflects its distinctive theological and liturgical traditions as well as its decentralized system of governance. Foundational beliefs and practices inform Orthodoxy’s understanding of the imperative to care for the physical well-being of the sick. Points of disagreement arose in Orthodox communities concerning public health restrictions on attendance at the Divine Liturgy, the use of a common communion spoon, whether diseases may be transmitted through the Eucharist, and the appropriateness of receiving vaccinations tested or produced with cell lines derived from the tissue of aborted fetuses. Such contested matters reflect points of tension between characteristic beliefs and practices of Orthodoxy and its commitment to care for the health of neighbors during a global pandemic.

Introduction

The response of the Eastern Orthodox Church to the COVID-19 pandemic reflects its distinctive theological and liturgical traditions as well as its decentralized system of governance. This article describes the rich foundational beliefs and practices that inform Orthodoxy’s understanding of the imperative to care for the physical well-being of the sick. It also analyzes points of disagreement in Orthodox communities concerning public health restrictions, communion practices, and the appropriateness of receiving vaccinations tested or produced with cell lines derived from the tissue of aborted fetuses. Such contested matters arise from points of tension between characteristic beliefs and practices of Orthodoxy and its commitment to care for the health of neighbors during a global pandemic.

Background and context

The Eastern Orthodox Church is a communion of churches with shared theological affirmations, liturgical practices, and spiritual disciplines. The Church understands itself to embody the fullness of the Church founded by Jesus Christ and to maintain the beliefs and practices of apostolic Christianity. The schism of Orthodoxy and Catholicism dates from 1054 CE and occurred due to different understandings of papal authority and other theological disagreements. In distinction from the dynamics of Catholic-Protestant relations in the West, the Eastern Roman or Byzantine experience shaped Orthodoxy decisively. The vast majority of Orthodox Christians live in historically Orthodox nations, such as Russia, Romania, and Greece, while adherents have been present in the West in noticeable numbers only since the end of the nineteenth century. Most of their communities outside of traditionally Orthodox regions stem from immigration, but Orthodoxy has received an increasing number of converts in recent decades.¹

The word “Orthodox” has the literal meaning of both “right worship” and “right belief.” The service of eucharistic worship in the Orthodox Church is called the Divine Liturgy, the two most common forms of which are associated with saints Basil the Great and John Chrysostom. Orthodoxy was not shaped decisively by Medieval Scholasticism or the Enlightenment and appeals to natural law or other standards of morality universally known by reason are not as prominent as they are in many forms of Western Christianity. Consequently, discussions of both doctrinal and moral matters often draw heavily on the language and practices of sacramental worship, which manifest the corporate faith of the Church.²

The Divine Liturgy provides a shaping context for how Orthodoxy envisions God’s purposes for social interaction, including how people and societies should respond to persons in sickness or other types of need. After initial petitions “For the peace from above and for the salvation of our souls . . . [and] For the peace of the whole world,” prayers follow

For favorable weather, for an abundance of the fruits of the earth, and for peaceful times . . . For those who travel by land, sea, and air, for the sick, the suffering, the captives and for their salvation . . . [and] For our deliverance from all affliction, wrath, danger, and necessity.

The petitions after the consecration of the eucharistic gifts in the liturgy of Basil the Great call for God to

Free those who are held captive by unclean spirits; sail with those who sail; travel with those who travel; defend the widows; protect the orphans; liberate the captives; heal the sick. Remember, Lord, those who are in mines, in exile, in harsh labor, and those in every kind of affliction, necessity, or distress; those who entreat your loving kindness; those who love us and those who hate us; those who have asked us to pray for them, unworthy though we may be. Remember, Lord our God, all Your people, and pour out Your rich mercy upon them, granting them their petitions for salvation.³

These appeals for peace and salvation do not exclusively concern hope for eternal life in the eschatological consummation of the heavenly reign. They address tangible, mundane circumstances faced by persons and social groups in the present. These petitions occur at the very beginning of the service and immediately after the most solemn moment of the Divine Liturgy when the priest recalls the words of institution and prays for the Holy Spirit to descend upon the bread and wine such that they become the body and blood of Christ. That these concerns are placed in such positions of prominence indicates their great importance, as well as the obligation of communicants to care for the suffering physical bodies of their neighbors.⁴

Taking its sensibilities from the repudiation of Gnostic denigrations of the body in the early centuries of Christianity, Orthodoxy rejects escapist forms of spirituality that view physical realities as being spiritually irrelevant. An exalted view of materiality reflects beliefs in the goodness of creation, the full humanity of Jesus Christ, his bodily resurrection and ascension, and bread and wine becoming truly his body and blood in the Eucharist. The healing of the sick was a paradigmatic characteristic of Christ’s ministry as a sign of the blessedness of God’s reign, which also manifests the great importance of caring for suffering persons. Orthodoxy teaches that human persons are icons of God, as they bear the divine image and likeness. How people treat an image of something reveals their relationship to it. Consequently, those who disregard people in obvious need enact their rejection of God. As stated in 1 John 4:20-21 (NRSV),

Those who say, “I love God,” and hate their brothers or sisters are liars; for those who do not love a brother or sister whom they have seen, cannot God whom they have seen. The commandment we have from him is this: those who love God must love their brothers and sisters also.⁵

From its origins as described in Acts, the Church continued healing the sick through the philanthropic ministries of the apostles. Even the pagans of Rome noted that the early Christians literally risked their lives to care for victims of plague, which demonstrates that a deep commitment to therapeutic practice remained characteristic of the believing community. The category of Orthodox saints known as “the holy unmercenary healers” includes physicians who cared for the ill without charging fees. Their veneration in the Orthodox Church stands as a reminder that the ministry of healing is a sign of Christ’s merciful deliverance of humankind from debilitation and death, consequences of the fall of humanity due to Adam and Eve’s primal disobedience.⁶

Given its affirmations of the goodness of the body and the imperative to care for the sick as a means of participating in Christ’s love for humankind, Orthodoxy honors the healing vocation and does not view the use of medicines or therapies with suspicion. To the contrary, it welcomes them as divine blessings that convey the love of God for humanity. As stated in the Wisdom of Sirach 38,

Honor physicians for their services, for the Lord created them; for their gift of healing comes from the Most High, and they are rewarded by the king. . . . The Lord created medicines out of the earth, and the sensible will not despise them. . . . And he gave skill to human beings that he might be glorified in his marvelous works. By them the physician heals and takes away pain; the pharmacist makes a mixture from them. God’s works will never be finished; and from him health spreads over all the earth. (vv. 1-2, 4, 6-8 NRSV)

While the Orthodox Church prays for the sick and provides the sacrament of holy unction for the healing of soul and body to its ailing communicants, the use of conventional medical therapies is neither prohibited nor discouraged.⁷ The origins of the modern hospital are in the philanthropic endeavors of the early centuries of the Eastern Roman Empire, such as the Basiliad of St. Basil the Great, which employed the treatments and methods of health care used at that time.⁸ Likewise, the holy unmercenary healers availed themselves of medicines and therapeutic procedures, as well as prayer.⁹ In the twentieth century, Saint Luke of Simferopol, an Orthodox archbishop, surgeon, and political prisoner, combined steadfast piety with groundbreaking scholarly publications and lifesaving surgeries for Soviet soldiers in World War II.¹⁰

In order to ease pain, restore bodily function, and otherwise provide the best care possible for the living icons of Christ who present themselves to healthcare professionals, Orthodoxy endorses using medical science’s current therapeutic methods. While death is inevitable and the preservation of physical life is not the highest good, love for suffering neighbors requires caring for the embodied person as a living icon of God.¹¹

Limiting attendance at liturgy

As of this writing, over 6 million people have died from the pandemic.¹² The disease has no cure, even as highly contagious variants develop and marginalized populations suffer disproportionally from its effects.¹³ As the Church has not been immune from the political and social tension associated with the pandemic, factors other than the philanthropic vision of Orthodoxy have played important roles in shaping the responses of clergy and laity. In this light, the Assembly of Canonical Orthodox Bishops in the United States of America urged the faithful to embrace “an authentic life of patient obedience, sincere humility, genuine compassion, and sacrificial love even towards those with whom we differ.”¹⁴

Different ecclesiastical jurisdictions have responded in different ways to the many challenges of the pandemic. Orthodox churches around the world limited or forbade lay attendance at the Divine Liturgy, as well as other services, during the initial outbreak of the pandemic, which began during the season of Lent, the most spiritually intense and liturgically rich time of the church year. “A limited attendance” of Orthodox laity at services for Pascha (Orthodox Easter) in 2020 was apparently permitted only in Georgia and Bulgaria.¹⁵ In forums ranging from diocesan assemblies to parish councils and Internet discussion boards, debates ensued on whether restricting attendance by the laity at the Divine Liturgy was a necessity to be embraced out of loving concern for the safety of one’s neighbors or a sign of fear that is contrary to hope for eternal life.

In order to respond with moral integrity to the pandemic, Eastern Orthodoxy’s commitments to love the neighbor, provide care for sick, and treat even the lowliest people as those who bear God’s image should shape decisively how the Church responds to COVID-19. Some of the most basic characteristics of the sacramental life of the Church have presented challenges to doing so. The Orthodox Church is highly liturgical, teaching that the celebration of the Divine Liturgy is a mystical entrance to the heavenly kingdom. The service manifests the identity of the Church as the body of Christ with many members, a communion of persons united in love as an image of the Holy Trinity. Regular attendance at Liturgy is an expected spiritual discipline for all parishioners, though in practice often enacted by only the most pious. Such practices do not, however, eliminate the spiritual and moral import of how people’s behavior impacts the well-being of their neighbors who bear the image of God.

In the midst of a global pandemic, compassionate concern for others has required new and unprecedented sacrifices, including following the guidance of public health officials in order to slow the spread of the pandemic. Especially in the early months of the pandemic, bans on large gatherings and requirements for social distancing challenged the practices of liturgical worship and were often met with resistance. As Ioannis Kaminis notes,

The many controversies over such restrictions raise the question of whether receiving Holy Communion and participating in the Eucharist has not been transformed into an ordinary ritual, a religious duty that forgets the word of Jesus: “The Sabbath was made for humankind, and not humankind for the Sabbath.” (Mk 2:27)¹⁶

Since the Eucharist manifests believers’ communion with Christ, insistence on celebrating religious services without regard for the health and well-being of the sick surely contradicts the demands of discipleship.

Important models within Orthodoxy are a guide for strengthening the spiritual life apart from corporate, sacramental worship. Metropolitan Joseph, the primate of the Antiochian Orthodox Christian Archdiocese of North America, appealed to the ancient example of Palestinian monks who spent each Lent alone in the Sinai desert and abstained from the Eucharist during this time in order to inspire parishioners who could no longer attend the Divine Liturgy due to bans on social gatherings. This example is especially fitting as restrictions on attendance began during the season of Lent. As well, one of the saints commemorated during this penitential season is Mary of Egypt, whom the monk Father Zosimas encountered in the Sinai desert when he was following his monastery’s practice in this regard. The Metropolitan wrote, “Although our time of social distancing is not quite the same type of asceticism, let us treat it as a sacrificial offering of love to God and our neighbor.”¹⁷

In refutation of criticisms concerning such restrictions, Metropolitan Joseph stated that

We did not ask our faithful to worship from home out of a fear of death or a belief that our churches or sacraments are carriers of disease. Our world was confronted by a novel virus to which no one had yet been exposed and no doctor had yet learned to treat. In addition to those factors, the virus could be spread before the onset of symptoms by people unaware they were sick. We were asked to join our local communities in slowing the spread of the virus by not gathering in crowds. This was to prevent an overwhelming of the healthcare system, allowing the doctors and nurses to give adequate care to the sick and thus avoid unnecessary deaths.¹⁸

Similarly, Metropolitan Tikhon of the Orthodox Church in America appealed to both the norm of love for neighbor and the ascetical practices of Lent in writing that precautionary measures and restrictions

have been taken as our Christian response to protect our brothers and sisters. Our Lord tells us, “Greater love has no man than this, that a man lay down his life for his friends (John 15:13).” The life we “laying down” [sic] now is our normal life, because these are extraordinary times. We are making a sacrificial effort, which is in keeping with the present season of repentance and ascetical striving. Like the ascetics of old who would depart from their monasteries for the forty days of Lent in preparation for Holy Week, we should take this opportunity to prayerfully reflect on our life in Christ and increase our desire to be with Him.¹⁹

Not all ecclesial jurisdictions were led at the outbreak of the pandemic with such philanthropic concern. Kaminis speculates that most Orthodox churches around the world that followed the guidance of public health officials “decided to act due to government pressure and thus reluctantly accepted the government measures.”²⁰ He notes that “some spiritual elders from Mt. Athos . . . supported and spread the conspiracy theory that a microchip could be slipped into the vaccines against Covid-19.”²¹ The Moldovan Orthodox Church also made statements supporting such fears.²² Lax adherence to public health guidelines or their repudiation led to the death of Patriarch Irinej of the Serbian Orthodox Church and of other bishops there. While the Russian Orthodox Church quickly endorsed the restrictions required by the government, many clergy and laity have opposed them.²³ How widely clergy and laity are disregarding them is not clear, but “almost all large Russian monasteries have become hotbeds for spreading Covid-19, and in many of them the mortality rate of priests and monks is quite high.” Prominent bishops, priests, and monks from Russia, Ukraine, and Belarus have spoken publicly against public health restraints.²⁴

Communion during COVID

In addition to tensions over restricting attendance and requiring social distancing and other public health practices, the manner of serving communion in the Orthodox Church has become a point of controversy. With degrees of frequency varying widely, during the Divine Liturgy, Orthodoxy laity receive the body and blood of Christ from a spoon that the priest or deacon uses to place communion in their mouths. Concern arose about the potential of spreading the virus through the use of the communion spoon. Early in the pandemic, some jurisdictions replaced the common spoon with disposable individual spoons or required disinfecting the spoon after its use by each communicant. Others instructed the laity to open their mouths as widely as possible so that the clergy could administer communion without the spoon touching the tongue or other parts of the mouth.²⁵

With reference to icons, crosses, and other physical items that clergy and laity commonly kiss as a sign of honor, Archbishop Elpidophoros of the Greek Orthodox Archdiocese of America acknowledged that “material elements that can convey the blessings of God are also subject to the broken nature of our fallen world.” He prohibited kissing them at the outbreak of the pandemic, but he continued to require distribution of communion with a common spoon, for as “the sacrament of sacraments, the Holy Eucharist, is not simply a material element but the very body and blood of our Lord Jesus Christ.”²⁶ Metropolitan Joseph of the Antiochian Orthodox Archdiocese of North America taught similarly:

We have stated throughout these difficult days that Holy Communion is the “medicine of immortality,” not a vector of disease. We have also consistently stated that our method of distributing the Holy Gifts is not open to question.²⁷

As Eugenia Constantinou wrote in support of maintaining this practice, “Whether it is received on a common spoon or not, the most sacred Mystery of the Church can never be the vehicle of illness.”²⁸

Others perceived the method of administering the Eucharist as not being of decisive theological importance, especially since use of the spoon developed only in the eleventh century, and they affirmed the legitimacy of serving communion in a manner less likely to spread the virus. Sister Vassa Larin notes evidence that “communion in some areas was still given to the faithful in the hand, and in two separate species” until the twelfth century. The development of this practice seems to have reflected “possible abuses and irreverence on the part of the laity.”²⁹ In the earlier history of the Church, the laity received the elements from the hand and the chalice, respectively, as Orthodox clergy continue to do. Rejecting the view that the use of a single spoon is a dogmatic matter, Larin argues that its development was for “practical and pastoral reasons” and has come to symbolize “the tongs, with which Isaiah received the heavenly coal” in Isaiah 6.³⁰ In countries like Germany and Austria in which authorities have forbidden communion by a common spoon, bishops approved other means of serving the Eucharist to the laity early in the pandemic.³¹ The Russian and Romanian Orthodox churches have required or allowed practices such as disinfecting the common spoon or using individual disposable spoons.³²

The Church does not attempt to define with rational precision how the eucharistic elements miraculously become Christ’s body and blood, and unsurprisingly the relationship between receiving the communion and contracting a potentially deadly disease is controversial within Orthodoxy. On the one hand, the Church embraces Ignatius of Antioch’s understanding of communion as “the medicine of immortality” and repeats Paul’s warning that judgment, disease, and death may result from communing in a spiritually unworthy way (1 Cor. 11:29-30).³³ Receiving the Eucharist as true personal communion with Christ is at the very heart of the liturgical and spiritual life of the Church.³⁴ Suggesting that communing sacramentally could be a means of contracting a deadly virus due to the natural process of infection remains anathema to most Orthodox commentators. On the other hand, the bodily experience of tasting and digesting the eucharistic elements is shared by all communicants. The eucharistic elements by all appearances retain the physical properties of bread and wine, including susceptibility to changes in temperature and to mold. The Church does not teach that the reality of the bread and wine disappear at their consecration, as though they were completely removed from the natural processes of the created world. As Father Alexander Schmemann puts it, their transformation is one “not of discontinuity, but of fulfillment and actualization.”³⁵ In this light, forthcoming theological reflection is needed in order to respond to the charge that affirmation of the impossibility of spreading disease through the Eucharist amounts to “magical fundamentalism” or a denial of the full humanity of Christ, whose body and blood people receive in the Eucharist.³⁶

Vaccination and abortion

The moral appropriateness of receiving vaccinations for COVID-19 has become controversial for some Orthodox Christians in light of the connection of the testing and production of vaccines to cells taken from aborted fetuses. As H. Tristram Engelhardt, Jr, comments, Orthodoxy forbids abortion, viewing the intentional destruction of fetal life “as a radical failure of love, as one of the worst of actions, whether or not the embryo is yet a person.”³⁷ A statement from the Assembly of Canonical Orthodox Bishops in the United States does not address the relationship of the vaccines to abortion but places the question of whether its members should receive vaccinations and therapies for COVID in the context of biblical injunctions “to respect and protect the body as the temple of God (1 Cor. 6:19)” and to refrain “from either tempting or testing the Lord (Matt. 4:7).” In this light, the bishops teach that “it is neither wrong nor sinful to seek medical attention and advice. In fact, we welcome interventions that provide us more time for spiritual renewal and repentance.” The statement encourages people to consult their physicians on what medical treatments are most appropriate for them, noting that even as the clergy provide spiritual guidance, “your personal doctor will guide your individual medical decisions.”³⁸

A statement from The Orthodox Theological Society of America notes that the Pfizer and Moderna vaccines were tested using cells “derived from the 1960s and 1970s from therapeutic abortions.” While the abortions did not occur for the sake of producing vaccines, “many of the other Covid-19 vaccines (e.g., AstraZeneca and Johnson and Johnson) are grown using the same fetal cell line.” These vaccines do not contain the cells of aborted fetuses, but cells descended from the tissue of aborted fetuses are used for producing and manufacturing these vaccines. The statement concludes that use of any of the vaccines is “the best ethical option to promote health and life.” It rejects the claim that the vaccines’ connections to cells taken from fetuses aborted for therapeutic reasons should forbid their use by Orthodox Christians:

Most Church leaders have agreed that the many lives saved by vaccination are an important factor in permitting the use of these vaccines. While it is a sad reality that the origin of these cell lines is from these very few therapeutic abortions, the cell lines are already in existence, no new fetuses will be used, and as such it is far preferable to cure diseases as a result of the use of these cell lines than to totally forbid the use of these cell lines. The vaccines in no way legitimize or promote abortion; rather they combat disease and death, support health, and enable life—not death—to prevail, all of which are of the highest ethical value.³⁹

Father Alexander Webster reaches the opposite conclusion, arguing that Orthodox ethics forbids the use of vaccines with “any connection to aborted preborn baby cells.” In support of his argument, he cites statements from the Holy Synod of the Patriarchate of Moscow against “so-called fetal therapy,” in which a fetus is aborted and “used in attempts to treat various diseases and to ‘rejuvenate’ an organism,” as well a statement from the Holy Synod of Greece against human cloning and experimentation on human embryonic cells. Webster also notes a statement on the official site of the Patriarchate of Romania that forbids extracting or transplanting tissues without the consent of the donor, which is obviously impossible for embryos or fetuses, as well as doing so in a fashion that causes the death of the donor. These statements provide a basis for condemning the actions of those who intentionally destroy embryos or fetuses for therapeutic benefit to others. They do not speak directly, however, to whether it is morally acceptable for people to receive potentially lifesaving vaccinations that were tested or produced through cell lines, the origins of which come from abortions performed decades ago.⁴⁰

Webster seeks more direct support for his argument from a letter signed jointly by Archbishop Makarios of the Greek Orthodox Archdiocese of Australia together with local Catholic and Anglican archbishops, which states that vaccines “cultured on a fetal cell-line will raise serious issues of conscience for a proportion of our population.” The bishops “accept that the proposed vaccine may be sufficiently remote from the abortion that occasioned the derivation of the cell-line” but they call on the Australian government to respect the conscience of those who do not want “to benefit in any way from the death of the little girl whose cells were taken and cultivated, nor to be trivializing that death, and not to be encouraging the fetal tissue industry.”⁴¹ While the bishops hope for “an ethically uncontroversial alternative vaccine,” they do not, as Webster claims, reject “on moral grounds, any vaccines derived from ‘fetal cell lines.’”⁴²

Webster argues that since Orthodoxy views abortions as “objectively, intrinsically evil,” to profit “from such abominations for any reason, even lifesaving in the present or future” is morally prohibited. He fears that benefiting from such evil deeds amounts to embracing a consequentialist ethic that could justify any action for the sake of the greater good. In contrast, Webster states that “Orthodox-informed consciences all testify to the uncontestable moral maxim that we may not do evil to achieve good. There is no ‘lesser evil’ that is tolerable to achieve, ostensibly, a ‘greater good.’”

Webster’s critique of the use of COVID vaccines overlooks the crucial factor of intention in discerning the moral import of actions. Surely, ethically relevant points of distinction exist between the actions of those who intentionally kill the innocent in order to achieve a desired end and of those who wish only to make use of potentially lifesaving vaccines that have a remote connection to abortion. Though Webster asserts that “time and distance are irrelevant to profiteering from such abominations for any reason,” he does not make a persuasive case that receiving a vaccine in this context equates to doing evil so good may come of it.⁴³

Engelhardt’s analysis of the use of tissue from dead fetuses, written two decades before the pandemic, places these matters in an illuminating context. He does not prohibit

using for a good end something that has been acquired by heinous means, as long as one has not been involved in (1) employing these evil means, (2) encouraging their use, (3) avoiding their condemnation, or (4) giving scandal through their use.

He cautions, however, against endorsing or encouraging any immoral actions and notes, “Use of such materials must at the very least be approached penitentially as a concession to human weakness.”⁴⁴

Webster criticizes Engelhardt for having a “sanguine, even cavalier attitude toward” aborted fetuses and for mounting “a strictly secular, un-Orthodox consequentialist argument” that ignores the “evil intent” and “violent destruction of human persons” intrinsic to intentional abortion. He accuses Engelhardt of employing “a consequentialist mantra” that absolves those who knowingly benefit from an abortion and claims that a person “who willfully benefits from such abortions provides a tacit post-factum encouragement of the original act and similar acts in the present and future.” He charges that “anyone who utilizes aborted baby cells even for an ostensibly good end,” by definition, gives scandal, as “the ‘scandal’ is inherent in the intrinsically evil act and the hands of anyone who exploits that act are also dirty.”⁴⁵

Webster’s critique is unpersuasive, as he simply asserts that those who benefit from an abortion, even quite indirectly, by definition encourage it and give scandal. He gives fair consideration neither to Engelhardt’s clear condemnation of abortion nor to his view that a penitential attitude is necessary in such cases. A similar sentiment is present in the Orthodox Theological Society of America’s reference to “the sad reality” of the origins of the cell lines coming from the tissue of aborted fetuses. In addition to not attending critically to the crucial differences in intention between abortionists and those receiving vaccines for COVID-19, Webster also fails to grapple with the inevitably complex challenges of preserving the life and well-being of neighbors in a fallen world, especially in the midst of a deadly global pandemic. Orthodoxy does not teach that using resources connected to earlier evil deeds to save lives is intrinsically wrong. For example, people who would otherwise die of thirst may drink water from a well obtained by its owner through murder without condoning or sharing in the guilt of murder. People have no obligation to refrain from using the methods available to save the lives of others simply because earlier wrongdoing by others played a role in making those methods available. Employing those means, while regretting the brokenness of the circumstances by which they became available, does not necessarily make one culpable of, indifferent to, or an advocate of the prior wrongs.

Indeed, love of neighbor and concern for the physical well-being of others are so intrinsic to the Orthodox Christian faith that one could make a case that those who refuse vaccination risk are committing grave evil. Metropolitan Hilarion, when serving as chair of the department for External Church Relations for the Moscow Patriarchate, stated that those refusing to vaccinate were committing

a sin for which they will have to atone throughout their lives. . . . I see situations every day where people visit a priest in order to confess that they had refused to vaccinate themselves or their close ones and unwillingly caused someone’s death. . . . The sin is thinking of oneself but not of another person.⁴⁶

While a theological consultation of the Russian Orthodox Church “concluded that the decision to get vaccinated must remain an individual choice,” it also taught, “concerning the use of cells derived from aborted fetal tissue,” that people may receive the vaccine “in the absence of other alternatives.”⁴⁷ Ecumenical Patriarch Bartholomew of Constantinople described his own decision to receive a vaccination as “not only a matter of necessity or choice; it is also a responsibility to fellow human beings.” Concerning those who reject scientifically based measures to contain the spread of the pandemic, the Patriarch stated,

The New Testament affirms that whoever does not love [humankind], cannot love God. These people are indifferent to the protection of fellow human beings. The rejection of the mask and all precautionary measures does not arise simply from ignorance but from the necrosis of love within them.⁴⁸

Conclusion

The response of the Orthodox Church to the pandemic not only reflects deep theological and moral sensibilities that demand caring for the sick but also provides examples of resistance against following public health measures and receiving vaccines by clergy and laity. Restrictions on some of the most characteristic practices of Orthodoxy, such as attendance at the Divine Liturgy and receiving communion from a common spoon, fueled controversies that exposed points of tension concerning the relationship between the sacramental life of the Church and the obligation to care for the sick out of love for neighbor. Debates within Orthodoxy on whether diseases may be contracted through communion remain especially controversial and indicate a need for further reflection that is both theologically sound and informed by contemporary medical science. An incarnational faith that views the embodied person as a living icon of God must not refuse to meet this challenge.

Author biography

Philip LeMasters is Professor of Religion at McMurry University and an archpriest of the Antiochian Orthodox Christian Archdiocese of North America. He is also a Senior Fellow in the Orthodoxy and Human Rights Project of the Orthodox Christian Studies Center of Fordham University. He has published several books and articles on moral theology and applied ethics in Eastern Orthodoxy on topics including marriage, peacemaking, politics, and bioethics.