For many Catholics, the Covid era was regarded as an illumination of sorts. Churches were shuttered, government slipped on an iron glove, and separations began to ensue. These could be seen as contractions, if you will, prior to the more serious birth pangs foretold in Matthew 24: “Nation will rise against nation, and kingdom against kingdom…Then you will be handed over to be persecuted and put to death, and you will be hated by all nations because of me” (Matthew 24:7, 9).
We also saw, in relation to the issue of Covid vaccination, a kind of secular division among friends, coworkers, and family. Some took the government and health authorities at their word. Others were more skeptical. “They will be divided, father against son and son against father, mother against daughter and daughter against mother, mother-in-law against daughter-in-law and daughter-in-law against mother-in-law” (Luke 12:53).
Although it may make me an outlier in my orthodox/traditionalist Catholic circles, I am not arguing that the refusal to “take the jab” during this particular time period merits a particular virtue in and of itself. (My own views are more in line with that of philosopher Edward Feser on a Catholic “middle ground,” lest anyone accuse me of not putting my cards on the table. Like Feser, I did not regard Covid vaccination specifically as “a hill to die on.”) To this I would draw a contemporary parallel to St. Paul’s letter to the Corinthians:
So then, about eating food sacrificed to idols: We know that “An idol is nothing at all in the world” and that “There is no God but one.” But not everyone possesses this knowledge. Some people are still so accustomed to idols that when they eat sacrificial food they think of it as having been sacrificed to a god, and since their conscience is weak, it is defiled. But food does not bring us near to God; we are no worse if we do not eat, and no better if we do. (1 Corinthians 8:4, 7-8)
A similar parallel may be found in Paul’s letter to the Galatians, chapter 2, over the issue of circumcision.
And yet, though I would not consider myself an “anti-vaxxer” (and I do not use that as a pejorative, but simply for the sake of argument) or a vaccine skeptic, there are certain traits that I have found in many of my friends who refused the Covid vaccine that I find enviable because I do not possess them myself.
Stubbornness
During Covid, most of my friends unwilling to vaccinate were what I would charitably call “stubborn.” I used to think of stubbornness, or “hard-headedness” as a character flaw, something “reasonable” people would find incorrigible. But when I read many of the lives of the saints and martyrs, I find that this trait actually aids them in the realm of perseverance—which is necessary for salvation.
One inspiring saint in this regard is St. Eulalia, who was born in the third century in Spain. At 12 years old, stubborn and bull-headed, she would sneak out of her parents’ house in the middle of the night in search of pagans to defy. She would spit at their idols and defy their threats of torture in order to gain the red crown. There was also St. Crispina, who refused to sacrifice to idols, was called stubborn and insolent by the proconsul, and was martyred.
When St. Felicitas was brought before the prefect of Rome for being a Christian and refusing to worship foreign gods, she admonished him. “Do not think to frighten me by threats, or to win me by fair speeches. The spirit of God within me will not suffer me to be overcome by Satan, and will make me victorious over all your assaults.” He urged her to think of her seven sons, who were being lined up to be tortured, but still she refused. “You are insolent indeed,” he said in exacerbation.
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