6 minute read
The SAINT who refused to be Commander-in-Chief
by NICHOLAS SOOY
When considering the relationship between politics and Christianity, one of my favorite witnesses is that of St. Cybi the Tanned. His feast is November 8, which is right around when elections are usually held in the United States. St. Cybi, born in 483, was the son of Salomon, a warrior king in Wales. Cybi left his home at a young age and traveled to Jerusalem and Rome to venerate the holy sites of Christianity. During his travels, he was ordained to the holy priesthood and consecrated as a bishop. Upon returning home, he found he had inherited both his father’s throne and command of his army. But he refused to accept these positions. He refused to be the commander-in-chief.
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St. CybiMural in Holyhead, Anglesey, Wales, UK
In the Church, we confess Jesus as our King, our ruler. At various times during Church history, this has distinguished Christians as a peculiar people. St. Theagenes of Parium, for example, who lived during the reign of St. Constantine, was martyred for refusing to pledge allegiance to Constantine’s co-emperor Licinius. St. Theagenes said, “I serve my King, and I cannot serve another . . . I am a Christian, and it is not possible for me to desert my Lord and King.” In another of my favorite anecdotes, a reporter in Russia interviewed a monk after the fall of communism. When asked if he was glad that the oppression had ceased and that a better government was now in place, the monk replied that it did not make much difference to him. He said he was only surprised that it happened during his lifetime. He told the reporter that earthly kingdoms come and go, and we should care little for these, for our hope is in the eternal Kingdom.
Christians were often reviled in the Roman empire for proclaiming that Jesus was King. They were called atheists for refusing to worship the imperial gods. And to the Roman authorities, their proclamation that Jesus was King often implied that Caesar was not. St. Luke records the anxiety that some had about Christians in the Book of Acts: “These who have turned the world upside down have come here too… and these are all acting contrary to the decrees of Caesar, saying there is another king—Jesus.”
St. Cybi is not the only saint who has refused to rule because of his Christianity. St. Cadoc, a contemporary of Cybi who lived near him, also refused to succeed his father as king or to command his father’s army. Similarly, in 155, in one of the earliest works of Christian apologetics, a disciple of St. Justin named Tatian writes: “I do not wish to be a ruler. I do not strive for wealth. I refuse offices connected with military command.” Such a sentiment is not that far off from what Jesus himself practiced. Before Christ began His ministry, He went off into the wilderness to fast and pray. There, Christ faced temptations sent by Satan, each of which challenged Him to display His divine power in ways that many contemporaries expected Him to, performing great miracles and conquering the world to rule it as Messiah and King. Christ refused these temptations, choosing to be a different type of Messiah, a different type of King. The Evangelists Matthew (4:1-11) and Luke (4:1-13) tell us that had Christ succumbed to these temptations, doing so would not have served God but rather Satan. “The devil took [ Jesus] to a very high mountain and showed him all the kingdoms of the world and their splendor. All this I will give you,” he said, “if you will bow down and worship me.”
None of the disciples were there to witness Christ’s temptations, but surely Jesus told them of the event. It is likely that He wanted them to know just what kind of Messiah He was to be. In turn, the evangelists placed the event early in their narratives to signal the same to us. But not all of His disciples got the point. One tradition states that Judas betrayed Christ not because he hated Him or did not believe in Him. Rather, Judas was fed up with Christ not fulfilling the Messianic prophecies. Judas was likely a Zealot, who wanted the Messiah to rise up and conquer the Roman empire and rule as King in their place. Perhaps Judas thought that if the Romans came to arrest Jesus, it would force His hand to incite revolt. Similarly, perhaps St. Peter had this notion in the back of his mind as he drew his sword and cut off a soldier’s ear. Yet again Christ broke with expectations, healing the soldier and reprimanding Peter.
What, then, are we to make of St. Cybi and the rest of these traditions? Should we conclude that temporal rule is always incompatible with Christianity? Some may do so, and there is evidence that many saints thought as much, but this is not that kind of essay. There are in the Christian tradition many saints who were rulers. I’m particularly fond of the saying of St. Vladimir, the great Christian prince:
With these lines, I do not intend to criticize any Christian who seeks higher office (Lord knows that they will get plenty of criticism without my help). Nor is it meant to discourage anyone from participating in politics or voting. I vote whenever I can, with St. Vladimir’s words in mind, using my vote to support the poor, protect the widow, and to keep the mighty from destroying men and from taking the lives of the just and the unjust. But many of my Orthodox friends never vote, because for them, their faith means living as citizens of another Kingdom. The word “vote” shares the same root as “devotion,” after all. Some of these friends are monastics and clergy who refrain from voting as an expression of their tonsures, while others are laypeople. But whatever your attitude toward politics, the life and witness of St. Cybi remains relevant.
The witness of the saints should redirect our lives towards greater piety and a deeper life in Christ. Thus, in remembrance of St. Cybi we should prayerfully examine ourselves and our conscience. Where do we place our hope? Is it in rulers and in princes — in whom, as the psalmist reminds us, “there is no salvation?”
Though we may not suffer martyrdom for proclaiming Christ as King, we still may ask ourselves: Do we really behave as if Christ were the King of our lives? How often over the past several years have we talked about Donald Trump and his political opponents? How many hours have we spent watching clips of them, reading about their activities, attending events, or donating to their campaigns? How many times have we promoted or condemned them on social media?
Conversely, how often have we talked about Jesus Christ? How many hours have we spent praying to Him; reading the Gospels; attending Church; giving our money and time to meet Him in the poor, the prisoner, the sick, and the hungry? How many social media posts have we made promoting Christ? How anxious are we about politics? In the Gospel of Matthew, Christ tells us, “Therefore I tell you, do not be anxious about your life, what you shall eat, nor about your body, what you shall put on… For all the nations of the world seek these things; and your Father knows that you need them. Instead, seek His Kingdom, and these things shall be yours as well.” Are we mindful of this, or do we seek what all the nations of the world seek?
Though we may vote and throw our lot in with the nations of this world, we should not forget to devote ourselves to Christ first and foremost. We should not allow political divisions to keep us from loving others or allow politics to inspire hate for our brethren. We proclaim that there is another King (or another President) named Jesus whenever we place the Kingdom first, whenever we choose love over hate, forgiveness over revenge, and charity over greed.
We pledge our allegiance to Christ whenever we live according to the Beatitudes rather than the virtues of the world and choose mercy over severity, peacemaking over warmongering, meekness over strength, and poverty over wealth. How we live before and after Election Day matters far more than how we vote. We live according to the words of the anonymous second-century Christian apologist who wrote, “The Christians dwell in their own countries, but only as sojourners; they bear their share in all things as citizens, and they endure all hardships as strangers. Every foreign country is a fatherland to them, and every fatherland is foreign.” We share in the responsibilities of this world as citizens even as we are strangers to it.
St. Cybi was called “the tanned” because he would often walk facing the sun, and so his skin grew dark. The Church teaches that Christ is “the Sun of righteousness” and that if we spend our life seeking Him, we will glow with the radiance of His light. Let us then seek to always hold the Sun before us, above all else. Let us walk in this light and not stray towards any other goal.
May St. Cybi give us the strength to walk facing the Son of God, seeking not to rule others, but to be ruled by our Lord.
