Another Pro-Life Post

"The greatest act of evil was the murder of the second person of the Blessed Trinity. But this greatest act of evil wad turned to the greatest good."--Fr. Tom Euteneuer, president of Human Life International, in a homily on EWTN on the feast of St. Isadore, about the importance of the Cross to Christianity

It's been haunting me lately. It's always all around us--the problem, the "issue" of abortion. I want it to Go. Away. I'm weary, weary, weary of thinking about it. Worrying about it. Visualizing it. Being sad. Being emotionally involved with it. And this is not to say that I want to stop worrying, because it's obvious--I have choice when it comes to my own emotions. Clearly I could choose to stop worrying about it and being emotionally caught up in the wrong--wrong--wrong rhetoric in favor of abortion, but to do so would be to go against all of my moral principles. I used to feel as though the issue was very much removed from me. After all, I knew that I would never, no matter the circumstances, choose to have an abortion. And what others did, well, that was subject to their own beliefs, right? I think in part I did not realize that abortion was so hugely important to some people. I was appalled by the news of anti-abortion activists committing murder. I wasn't sure that something that was a moral question could be enforced by law. I didn't think that I should be paying for what was obviously someone else's immoral choice, but I just didn't see that it impacted me otherwise. I have always felt that abortion was an act of desperation, and so didn't want to judge women who were in such a horrible state that they would consider what must seem like a grievous evil to anyone, right? I'm not so sure anymore that abortion is always considered regrettable, unless the testimonies I have heard are not genuine, but to say that someone might be misled in their choices, not capable of making the choice, misrepresenting their feelings about the choice, etc., etc., is implying all sorts of bad things about the individuals involved. So, believing their own testimony, I have come to see that abortion can indeed be a very casual choice to some. And this saddens me. It was a gradual conversion of the heart to move from "always regrettable, but. . ." to "always regrettable and shouldn't happen--ever."

Someone who is tired, tired, tired of being emotionally involved in pro-choice/pro-abortion arguments (and I don't think the two are necessarily the same, as I was not "pro-abortion" when I considered myself "pro-choice by default"--though they frequently are, as in my examples below) has no business being on the internet. At all. And 'lest anyone get their knickers in a bunch, I don't (unfortunately) see the "right" to abortion being taken away, or a certain court interpretation being overturned. I think anything we can do must be done culturally rather than politically. Save not supporting politically those who believe that abortion is an inalienable right. 'Cause it's not. Even "choice" is a better term than "right," though I suppose it comes to the same thing, inevitably. But I am on the internet, too often for my own good. And I stumble across and into things that hurt and upset me.

Last week, for example, I was first discovering the new blog I've been mentioning, Stuff Christians Like. I took a look at a post about being honest in pre-marital counseling about one's past sins. It kind of throws into sharp relief the beauty of Catholicism's teaching about sexuality. Like, ummm, what part of "never outside of marriage" did you not understand? Meanwhile, poor Protestants find themselves able to stumble around and make their own theological justifications for this or that sexual encounter. Not all do, but it is something that can happen. And as many of the comments on the post imply, that causes hurt--to more than oneself. My first impression of the post about confessing one's past sins to one's spouse was, "Hey! This is exactly how Catholics feel about Confession! Cool! This is an opportunity to explain the concept to some who might misunderstand--as I did when I was not Catholic!" Well, that part of my comment was never addressed, and the comments devolved into a discussion of the evils of abstinence-only education and, finally, an overt pro-choice/pro-abortion statement, which I answered only by saying (in a nutshell), "No, not all Christians think that abortion should be permitted in cases of rape and incest," "Some arguments can't be won, but we could at least try to listen to one another," and "Where there is Life, there is Hope." Although I was restrained, I am always the most disturbed by so-called Christian justifications of abortion. In this case, the commenter who led the thread astray said, "My God has a plan and a will and it's bigger than doctors and lawyers and scary teachers waiting to seduce your children into satans arms (or whatever)."

Well, I put off addressing this until my daughter turned on the TV this morning, which was on EWTN and happened to be in the middle of the homily quoted above. And well, doesn't that say it all? The fact that God can turn an evil act to his own purpose and make of it the greatest possible good does not make the initial act any less evil. Free will and God's omniscience play into this, too: While God knows what choices we will make, He does not endorse our wrong choices, and we are free to make them--just as we are ultimately free to reject Him, though He desires our love. I was reminded of Tolkien's discussion of the great song of the Valar with Illuvatar in the beginning of time, in which the Valar were co-creators, along with Illuvatar of what would be Middle Earth, without realizing the significance of the song they were helping to create. Melkor would try to introduce discordant melodies, but each time, Illuvatar would weave the discord into ever greater and more beautiful melodies. God does not endorse evil; rather, He supersedes it and sanctifies it by His Grace and what wonders he works after, out of, and upon it.

Case two that I wish to mention is Sitemeter. I would be much better if I would just remove it from my sidebar. You see, many, many people find my site while doing Google searches relating to being pregnant in Grad School. That, as I see it, is likely a good thing. But they also find the Berkeley Parenting Network. Most often, they find the thread relating to terminating a pregnancy because one is in grad school. They find advice like the following:

• Remember, though, that you made that choice because you're a responsible parent who wanted to make sure your two existing children received the attention and support they're entitled to, as well as ease any blows to the marriage from the stress of the an additional pregnancy and new baby. I had the same experience. Two wonderful little children and I got pregnant with a 3rd. At the time, my second was a terror---- tempermental to the max. It was very demanding, emotionally. I didn't want #2 to become an ignored, middle child and make my future life more miserable, due to lack of attention from child #3. I chose abortion.
• Just because everyone else is having 3 kids doesn't mean you have to, too. There seems to be a bit of peer pressure/keeping up with the Joneses to have 3 kids. Pro-choice isn't just for non-marrieds
• I had an abortion earlier this year-- totally the right decision for our family (we decided long ago to only have one)
• I'm not in your situation but I felt that I needed to respond because I remember that aching. I have always wanted children. I got pregnant when I was 20 and felt very connected to that child. I new it would be a girl, I knew what she would look like. I was in a stupid relationship and really felt that I had no option but to terminate the pregnancy. I am now in my 30s with a wonderful toddler.
• I commend you in taking consideration all the consequences of bringing another into your family. I beleive it is a wholeheartedly selfless act on your part to want to maintain the preservation of your household and family by not adding to it. Bringing a child into this world should always warrant such consideration--everyone should want their children to be raised in optimal conditions

"Safe, legal, and rare"? I think not!

I debated about quoting these. However, they are on a public forum, searchable through Google. I will not post a link. I also think it is a crime that this is the second or third hit that someone gets when searching for information about pregnancy in grad school--depending on the search terms entered. So while I realize that I am offending the sensibilities of some, I feel the need to offer some contradiction to these sentiments.

What tore me apart were the mothers who have 2 children--or any children, really--who have chosen to kill a child because of the other children. Not wanting the second to be a "middle" child? My God! What if I had felt this way??? I struggled with these concerns, too. Not wanting her to be jealous, resentful, etc. But when abortion is not a "choice" that's even on the radar, you have to accept the situation and work within it! And what about the other children, those children whose welfare was the determining factor in the elimination of their sibling(s)? Their families have been deprived of the moments when they show their tender affection to their siblings, loving , learning and playing with and alongside them, yes. But I wonder about something else. . .

When a pro-choice mother teaches her child about abortion as a valid choice, does she share her own experience? And what does her child think? Does s/he think that could have been me? Glad I was the one Mommy wanted? Am I the reason I don't have a younger sibling? I have wondered about this for some time. Unless the fact is hidden from the children, which is probably preferable. But one can't hide something and pretend it's no big deal, even to oneself. Admittedly, not everyone thinks it's no big deal to have or to have had an abortion. But some do. And they shouldn't.

I think I need comments off for this one. I had to get that off of my chest so I could stop composing it in my head, but I don't need to be checking back obsessively. In fact, I might take a blogging holiday and edit my dissertation. Or read a book. See you in a week or so.

Things I've Been Thinking About. . .

If anyone can find a way to make that title grammatically correct and casual at the same time, let me know. . .
1) A while back, Jen referred me to another blog post of hers in response to a comment I made on this post. On my most recent post, I seemed once again to be asking the same questions, so I decided to write a response to Jen. It went something like this:

One of the reasons that I object to those who advise married couples to re-prioritize with God's will in mind is that it implies a serious judgment on the couple--that by pursuing careers, they are not considering their vocation as a married couple and God's will for their family the way they should be, and that the couple needs to re-prioritize with these things in mind, making sacrifices, yada yada. But I think that even if the couple was not yet consciously considering God's will, they might have been acting in accord with it simply from having been directed that way. So the acknowledgment that the family is or should be guided by God does not necessarily mean that everything that has happened up to that point was fruitless or misdirected. I know that in my life and my marriage and my family, I have certainly seen what I now take to be evidence that we were heading in the right direction. In many ways, my conversion was a culmination of where God had been leading me through motherhood, marriage (in that order) and my pursuit of higher education. There are certainly some things that I should have done differently to be more perfectly in accord with God's plan for my life--like the marriage and motherhood being somewhat out-of-order--but as I read somewhere, on "The Anchoress" blog, I believe, the Holy Spirit works with such materials as he has, and I'm not sure God could have gotten through to me in any other way. Had I not become pregnant, my husband & I would have probably lived together without being married, and may have lost each other by doing so. So if you look back on your life and feel like you can see that yes, God has been leading you into certain choices simply by making the right options available at the right time, how can you possibly interpret that as a cause to re-evaluate? I know situations are different, and something like the materialism you describe may be a cause to reevaluate priorities, but that may involve a shift in thinking and not always an entire lifestyle change.

The other problem I have is that the implications are usually the most dire for women--especially ambitious women, who must give up everything that they have pursued to the point of marriage and/or motherhood. Had I believed this when I became pregnant with my son, I either would have been pushed toward abortion, or I would have left school before reaching my B.A., which would have had serious consequences for our financial well-being as a family as well as my ability to cope with the challenges of motherhood. But again, I don't think that commitment to a marriage necessarily involves the degree of self-sacrifice that is generally attributed to it. I do believe that it involves compromise, some self-sacrifice on the part of both spouses, devotion to the marriage, the spouse, and to family, but I'm not sure that it involves an abandonment of personal and professional goals outside of the house, especially if those goals were family-friendly or were made with the possibility of a family in mind. Now, if the plans were made with an overly idealistic view of how things would work with a family, that is something different, and reevaluation would certainly be in order. But these things tend to be discussed in such abstracts and absolutes that it is difficult to find oneself in what is being proposed.

2) Harry Potter. Before my mom left, we went to see Order of the Phoenix. It was compelling--more so than the other films, I thought. And it raised enough questions that I wanted to read the book. Now, I hadn't gotten past the first chapter of Azkaban previously. There were some things that really bugged me--and some that still do. One is the matter of internal consistency. But I have revisited Azkaban. They're great when you need an escape--and I do.

3) An article mentioned, I believe, by The Curt Jester, titled "The New Victorians." I do take issue with the title, but we won't go into the Victorian thing. The idea is that there is a movement among women to embrace traditional conceptions of family and reject the trappings of the Sexual Revolution, including scanty clothing and promiscuity.

4) An article mentioned last Friday in Jen's Friday Favorites about a professional couple who decided to keep a baby at a professionally inconvenient time, rather than abort the baby to allow them to continue with their plan to investigate restrictive abortion laws in Mexico. There's a lot that's troubling here, although the overall message that life can continue with a baby is one that I'd like to see promoted more often, as I've mentioned before. I'm frankly surprised that this appeared in the New York Times. It just doesn't seem like their kind of topic.

5) The Latin Mass. Specifically, what the recent Motu Proprio issues by Pope Benedict XVI really means, apart from the hype of those who want to say that it's a step backward, that the Latin Mass is anti-semitic, and all of the other charges that have been leveled in recent weeks. My question: Does this really affect most parishes in this country? Should we really expect to see Latin Masses popping up in our local parishes? Unfortunately, the answer is likely 'no'. It is great that in parishes where a lot of crotchety Catholics have been clamoring for a long time for the Mass in Latin, the priest no longer has to rely on the permission of the bishop (who, in a perfect world, would have seen the value of permitting the Latin Mass) to serve his parishoners' liturgical needs. And similarly a good thing that those who attend schismatic masses simply because they like the Latin can be reincorporated into the Body of Christ. But in places where there's not a huge agitation, just a handful who would really like to seethe Mass done in Latin on a regular basis (weekly or at least monthly), there is little real hope that the pastors will see the need to comply. Here is one post that suggests some of the obstacles--popular opinion being one, and one that attempts to explain the implications of the Motu Proprio. I've been told by a deacon friend that, while "the motu propio has made provisions for the faithful to initiate the request and a mechanism for bypassing balky priests
and bishops," several obstacles exist, including that "most American seminaries stopped teaching Latin in the 1970s or have greatly lowered the Latin that they teach their seminarians," resulting in a loss of comfort level with the Latin among priests. There also seems to be a scarcity of the 1962 Missal. I also wonder if the sheer hassle of trying to fit another Mass--in another language--in the weekend and determining who will officiate is part of the deterrent. Any way, I feel rather let down, like the Motu Proprio--so long anticipated--has been much ado about. . . you know.

6) A half-post started a while back, in response to a comment from Melanie B on this post. She links to an article by Christopher West, of Theology of the Body fame, whose work I have never before read, but who has some interesting things to say in this brief article about Catholic moms and breastfeeding. This comment came at an interesting time for me (although I read it a few days late), as my husband and I had just been talking about something related. I was remembering having read that the Catholic Church encourages mothers to breastfeed for nutritional/nurturing purposes--though I can't remember now where I read this. A quick Google search revealed that most of the mention of breastfeeding in a Catholic context has to do with NFP and Natural Child Spacing, with occasional references to John Paul II or a rather recent book called Breastfeeding and Catholic Motherhood that talks about breastfeeding in the context of the "vocation as a Catholic mother." None of these are quite what I had in mind. (I hate lost references!)

An aside: In the process of searching, I found a film review by the USCCB that listed potentially objectionable elements in a particular film as "Murder (not shown), several disturbing images of a female cadaver with upper nudity, realistic fistfight with blood, a dead pet, rough and crude language and profanity, sexual language and groping, breast-feeding, discussion of abortion, discreetly depicted urination, alcohol use and domestic discord." Hmph!! As far as I'm concerned, the term "breast-feeding" (however spelled) should never be included with the rest of that sentence! It should never even be considered potentially offensive. But the anti-breastfeeding bias exists, even in contexts where it should not. Well, at least we know that this doesn't represent the Church's official position on the subject!

Christopher West's article takes as its point of departure some of the recent controversies surrounding breastfeeding, particularly images of breastfeeding in popular culture (interestingly, I almost showed a breastfeeding picture from a magazine cover alongside a book cover for a book about implants in my class for visual rhetoric and had them analyze the implications of each, but that was the last slide and we ran out of time). He discusses some cultural differences in terms of how breastfeeding is regarded, and concludes more or less that it is our skewed (sinful) way of viewing things that results in breastfeeding being seen as somehow improper, inappropriate, scandalous.

Though taken out of context, I found this quote interesting:

John Paul II observed in his theology of the body that the “whole exterior constitution of woman’s body, its particular look [is] in strict union with motherhood.” Since the body reveals the person, John Paul believes that this speaks volumes, not only about feminine biology, but about the dignity and nature of woman as a person.

My initial reaction was to take exception to the first observation, that the “whole exterior constitution of woman’s body, its particular look [is] in strict union with motherhood.” That is, until I remembered seeing on several documentaries about sex the same assertions made from a scientific and evolutionary rather than theological perspective. The body, from an evolutionary perspective, is designed to facilitate procreation--that is, survival of the species--beginning with sexual attraction of the mate, which, evolutionary biologists maintain, has to do with the potential mate's suitability for mating and the production of healthy offspring. Anyway, the compatibility of these notions struck me as interesting. The second part of the passage above is a little more complex. I'm not sure what is meant by "the body reveals the person." Again, it is taken out of context, but I wonder how less desirable physical characteristics would be regarded according to this sentiment, or how cultural and racial differences might enter that discussion. . .

And well, that's all for now! (Okay, it was a cheap ploy to get 6 posts in at once!)

The Stupidity of Women

This post is, in a way, a follow-up to my "horrible news" post. It seems that the missing pregnant woman whose young son gave cryptic and disturbing remarks about her disappearance, has been found. Her "boyfriend" has been charged with two counts of murder. One report suggests that a new girlfriend of the suspect--a suspect who had a wife with a child, had a previous girlfriend who also had his child, this now-dead woman with two of his children--wanted the woman out of the way, and assisted in some way with the events that resulted in her death.

When I was in high school, I had a teacher who was very opinionated about social issues. All we had to do was think of a subject in advance and she would talk about it for the entire hour so that we could get away with not reading. (Never trust an honors class!!) We prolonged Huck Finn for an entire 9-weeks using this strategy. During one of these digressions, she remarked that she couldn't understand women who take up with a married man, assuming that he would faithful to her when he wasn't faithful to his wife. What makes her so darned special? Why does any woman think that any given unfaithful man will be faithful to her rather than another woman? Clearly, this is logic that has always remained with me. In this case, in addition, if he would commit violent acts against another former girlfriend, why should this new woman think that he would not, eventually, turn on her?

This is, on a level, an anti-feminist statement in a way, I guess. For once, I'm not really sure where feminist theory would fall in relation to this kind of situation. I mean, even if she had aborted one or both of the children (which seems like one possible feminist answer), this may have been what the father wanted, in which case, would it have been acting like a strong feminist woman to preserve one's autonomy by aborting a child (or children) that she wanted to keep but whom the father wanted to kill? It does seem that the situation of the dead, pregnant girl should be viewed with sympathy by feminists, who would see her as a victim of society that views her worth in terms of men. On the other hand, one might note (not necessarily from a feminist perspective) that in a society in which women's sexuality was viewed more restrictively and regulated more closely, she would not have been living openly with one--perhaps two--children of an married man, and so, in a sense, she would have been protected--by shame--from this horrible situation. Would social ostracism have been worse than what actually happened to her? By being sexually liberated, able to choose her own sexual partners freely without reference to social convention, she is placed in a position that has led to her death and the death of her child. On the other hand, a feminist might note that, though she seems to have been fairly independent, by returning to a man who had betrayed other women, and allowing herself to become pregnant twice (or perhaps becoming pregnant on purpose?), she was acting foolishly herself, sacrificing herself for the sake of a man. I'm not actually sure a feminist would hold that last opinion. I think she would likely be regarded as a victim of patriarchy. But haven't we moved beyond that tired argument yet?If women haven't come far enough yet (baby--Virginia Slims) that "patriarchal society" (instead of a deranged man) has to be blamed for tragedy, then what exactly has feminism accomplished? Okay, enough with the rhetorical questions, already.

A number of things disturb me about the way this case is being reported. First, that while the new baby was initially said to have been fathered by the same man as her first child (by the "suspect," that is), in subsequent reports, the baby was "perhaps" fathered by the same man--"may have been" fathered by the suspect, etc. And this was when he wasn't even a suspect! So while he had a history of impregnating various women, he was somehow entitled to his reputation. Meanwhile, the woman was missing, likely dead, and she was being represented as someone who slept around. So much for sexual liberation there! The implication was pretty clear--he may not have been involved, and she, as an unwed mother, might as well have had a different father for each child. Where were the media feminists? They weren't upholding either her reputation or her right to act as a sexually liberated woman and a strong independent mother.

Another question I had was why the 2-year-old son's references to his mother did not include references to his "father," with whom he presumably had a relationship.

Finally, the girl's family is being portrayed in a respectfully positive light, which is appropriate. But I do wonder what their true feelings were about this situation--here is their daughter, sister, whatever, pregnant for the second time with the child of a man who has a wife and two other children by two different women. Did they feel constrained by the "new" social convention that dictates that a woman choose her own expression of her sexuality when she becomes an adult (or even sooner)? Did they find nothing amiss in this relationship? Or did they express their disapproval?

The appearance of the possible accomplice, the "new girlfriend" leads to the title of the post. How can women be so stupid--for obviously worthless men? For sex? But at the same historical moment when women were told that it’s okay to make these choices, they were deprived of the frameworks that allowed them to choose morally and, in the end, to choose wisely and make choices that preserved their dignity.

A Rare Pro-life Post: Two Poems, a Lamentation, and a Conclusion

the mother

by Gwendolyn Brooks

Abortions will not let you forget.
You remember the children you got that you did not get,
The damp small pulps with a little or with no hair,
The singers and workers who never handled the air.
You will never neglect or beat
Them, or silence or buy with a sweet.
You will never wind up the sucking-thumb
Or scuttle off ghosts that come.
You will never leave them, controlling your luscious sigh,
return for a snack of them, with gobbling mother-eye.

I have heard in the voices of the wind the voices of my dim killed children.
I have contracted. I have eased
My dim dears at the breasts they could never suck.
I have said, Sweets, if I sinned, if I seized
Your luck
And your lives from your unfinished reach,
If I stole your births and your names,
Your straight baby tears and your games,
Your stilted or lovely loves, your tumults, your marriages, aches, and your deaths,
If I poisoned the beginnings of your breaths,
Believe that even in my deliberateness I was not deliberate.
Though why should I whine,
Whine that the crime was other than mine?--
Since anyhow you are dead.
Or rather, instead,
You were never made.
But that too, I am afraid,
Is faulty: oh, what shall I say, how is the truth to be said?
You were born, you had body, you died.
It is just that you never giggled or planned or cried.

Believe me, I loved you all.
Believe me, I knew you, though faintly, and I loved, I loved you
All.

This is one of two poems that I read as an undergraduate that broach the subject of abortion--both of which I find haunting. The second is written by a male poet, Richard Katrovas, a former teacher of mine, who nevertheless attempts in some way to account for the feelings of the woman who has been betrayed by her former lover (or who feels betrayed; it is not quite clear to me whether he has betrayed her or if she feels betrayed because she is estranged from him and yet pregnant--betrayed by her own body, if you will). In this case, the reader's sympathy falls squarely with the male character in this contemporary "dithyramb"; perhaps this is because he (in spite of the refrain, "Yippi-yi-yay, another roll in the hay!") is portrayed less stereotypically than the woman, who fears loss of control and the relegation of her body to the status of mere "meat."

from "Eat What You Kill" by Richard Katrovas

Male Chorus Leader:

Vaguely repentant, even ashamed, I lunged
from one false enthrallment to another,
my affection like a blight of locusts,
though more voracious, quiet, and complete.
Yet when she starved herself to kill the child,
then reported the deed as liberation,
I did not know who or what was free of what
or whom, and cried alone in voiceless dread.

A page or two later, the Male Chorus intones, in an echo of Dionysus's "rescue" by Zeus from the pride of his mother, who wanted to see the true divine face of Zeus:

And the brutal father tore half-formed flesh
from the new charred corpse of its foolish mother,
then stashed the thing inside.

(As, of course, the Male Chorus Leader could not choose to do.) This poem is poignant, but perhaps doomed to obscurity because of its unpopular representation of male opinion in the matter. (I would be naive if I suggested that I did not know that there are many cases in which male opinion in the matter facilitates--even forces--rather than prevents abortion. . . I have known of women whose partners or husbands tried to coerce them into committing the act, and I have also read my Adrienne Rich.) The poet in question would have been fully aware of the danger of representing male opinion as more valuable than female opinion in the matter, and yet he has done so. He further would have known of the danger of representing a female perspective on the subject, yet this he has done as well. . .

Female Chorus Leader:

I am innocent, yet wholly culpable,
and offer no apology or excuse
for self-denial that siphoned another life.
It was my legal right to purge myself.
The termination was not violent,
was not achieved by artificial means.
The thing began as passionate affection;
an assumption of good faith marshaled it
from that crowded zone of nothingness and bliss.
But tenderness recalled became a hell,
and I, alone yet not alone, contained
the literal essence of a bloody lie.

. . . . .

I feel sympathy for mothers who have actually experienced abortion, though I harbor no such emotions (or kind regard) for those individuals in any kind of authority--even the authority of a role model--who promote the process as necessary. I don't believe that anyone (myself included) who has not been in the situation and made and carried out the decision to abort a child can truly understand the mindset of the mother who has taken this action toward her child, any more than one can understand the thoughts of an individual who has just committed suicide. Either action represents a psychological revolt against the innate will to survive. I like the line in Gwendolyn Brooks' poem, "even in my deliberateness I was not deliberate." I can only imagine with difficulty the feelings of desperation that must accompany such an act--though I do not doubt that other feelings may be present also, and that other feelings must for some be present for the individual to cope with such an act. What saddens me, however, is the way that the act is seen as a legitimate "way out" of a difficult situation, and the way that even intelligent, rational women overlook the fact that while this action--the act of carrying and bearing a child, or the act of aborting that same child--impacts their bodies, it impacts the body of someone else as well. But I stand by my thought, above, that to commit the act is the very essence of despair--it is the failure to see hope. And in Catholic thought at least, despair--the failure to see hope--is a denial of God.

I also stand by my belief that where there is life, there is hope. Hence, I must promote life.

I AM, I am: A Rare Reflection on a Homily

In general, I tend to be slightly frustrated with homilies, even fairly good ones. The composition teacher in me wants to ask, "where is your thesis?"; to comment, "you introduce too many ideas in that paragraph" and "your composition lacks focus," "you repeat your point rather than elaborating" or "did you exceed the maximum word limit?" I generally prefer compositions that are too long to too short, as long as they remain on-topic with no unexplainable digressions. I do think there is some value in critiquing homilies, even in this manner, because it requires the ability to summarize or restate what the point or points were, with the possible result that we review and analyze the points of the homilies themselves, not just the possible structural imperfections! (Yes, we are paying attention to substance, too!--perhaps more than when I grade papers...)

This evening, the homily was given by a deacon who endeavors to stick close to and explain the readings, sometimes a bit too literally or pedantically, but I generally appreciate the effort to connect the readings to each other, to the particular feast day or liturgical season, or to the theology that they inform. He focused primarily on the first reading, from Exodus, in which Moses encounters the Burning Bush (a scene of Ten Commandments fame, and it's hard not to picture Charlton Heston--or, secondarily, Michelangelo's Moses). Particularly, he addressed the name by which Moses would call God as proof of his truth to the Israelites: I AM. In contrast the the great I AM, he recounted occasions on which no one answered "I am," occasions on which someone was asked to take personal responsibility for one's actions: "Who is responsible for the underwear up the flagpole?" "Who is responsible for moving the teacher's Volkswagon onto the sidewalk?" "Who is responsible for the mess in the kitchen?" He pointed out that society doesn't particularly like for us to answer the question, "Who is responsible?" with the response, "I am," particularly in the case of sins, which are increasingly explained as being something other than sin.

What he did not say was, I think, the most interesting point of the homily, the one which I would have tried to coax from the student writing an essay on the subject (in another life, when I have the occasion to grade a composition on a religious theme--my students would willingly write them, but I could not, in my current setting, fairly grade them because of the hogwash that they would offer for religious justification; in order to have an intelligent composition on religion, you likely have to have the ability to discuss religion openly in class as a valid topic, and to stress that religion and logic are compatible). The Deacon did not say, but I believe implied on some level, that by taking responsibility for our actions, by saying "I am" to the question, "Who is responsible?" we are able to participate in the Divine purpose in our lives, and in the Divine presence in the universe--by being the "I am"--the motivating force in our own lives, the moral agent that takes responsibility for our own actions--and doing so in accordance to our understanding of God's will, we are reaching for the "I AM." This can apply to any number of instances, and it has to do, at times, with participating in (or facilitating) the good that may come from evil and sin. Here, I clearly diverge from the homily, and I am thinking of two things--the "doing evil to undo evil" arguments for legalization of abortion, as a default argument, of sorts, and an extreme example to explain the point, and the co- or sub-creation within Creation that Tolkien portrays in The Silmarillion.

In The Silmarillion, Tolkien creates the Valar as sub-creators, whom Ilúvatar created in order to participate with him in Creation. Each of the Valar sings a part in the beginning melody, a song which brings about the actual substance of the universe. Melkor, the greatest of the Valar, seeks to challenge Ilúvatar (sorry for the oversimplification), and weaves discordant sounds into the melody in an attempt to take control of it himself, but each time, Ilúvatar is able to create still greater music and harmony out of the discord. This idea of creating beauty out of discord is extremely significant for Tolkien, and is a profound reflection on the Doctrine of Original Sin and the Incarnation. I understand the Great I AM, the underlying responsibility for the universe, in these or similar terms.

It is in reference to the personal "I am" that I invoke the problem of abortion. I invoke above, reluctantly, but because they are the most visible and dramatic example of the theology I am trying to invoke, the arguments that abortion should be permitted in the cases of rape and incest. The justification is typically seen by those who oppose abortion in all cases, on moral grounds, as seeking to "fix" an evil situation by acting in a manner that is intrinsically evil. In my terms, when asked, "Who is willing to take responsibility for this new life?" it is the refusal (or inability, in the face of the evil situation) to answer, "I am." The "I am" is not the answer, in these cases, to the question, "Who is responsible for creating this new life?" (The answer to that would be "I AM.") In this situation, the personal "I am" is having the strength (admittedly, such an act of responsibility would take considerable strength, and there is no way of knowing if any one of us would be equal to the task) to be responsible for transcending the evil, and participate in the Divine task of turning discord into beauty.

I am a strong believer in personal responsibility, and it is easy enough to recognize in perhaps the majority of elective abortions, the refusal, supported by numerous discourses, to take responsibility for one's own actions. But in the case of the usual exceptions, rape and incest, it is more difficult. The obvious answer is, "you can't answer evil with evil," but that answer is only partly satisfactory, and has always left me wondering whether there might be another way to answer this to address the injustice of making someone who is not, through an act of her own will, responsible for the situation take responsibility for the actions of another. (Notice I do not seek to answer the anticipated objection, "Well, is the Church going to support this child for her?"--The question is not relevant.) This is not where this post was meant to go, but it is, as I said, the most obvious example of being the remedy to a sin that is not one's own. Taking responsibility for one's own sins, the actual subject of the homily, is more straightforward. Furthermore, when one's personal sin yields a good result, it is not an excuse for the sin, but evidence of the turning of discord into beauty, and hence, a revelation of Divine goodness--the "I AM" behind the "I am."

It was a Lenten homily, and also a Spring Break homily, perhaps intended to save the priests time in the confessional before Easter listening to tales of Galveston. For me, it made sense of a puzzling passage--why "I AM," anyway? Was it just a Hebrew thing that didn't translate well?--and some puzzling moral issues, and provided a much longed-for excuse to blog about Tolkien. All in all, a successful homily!

P.S.--Part of the curse of teaching composition is that abortion is the ready-made example for EVERYTHING!