"To speak publicly about pro-life issues requires a firm sense of what is right and wrong and a firm sense of the ambiguity of our lives as humans. It requires not only a repudiation of the sins of abortion and euthanasia, but a willingness to grapple with the structures of sin erected by our society that make the choice for death sometimes seem so reasonable."
"On Becoming Publicly Pro-Life,"
by Myles N. Sheehan,
America magazine, March 21, 1998
"The greatest gift of God, I would think, is the gift of life. The greatest sin of humans, it would seem, would be to return that gift ungratefully and unopened."
From Abortion: The Silent Holocaust, page 1
"It all seemed so wrong. I said to myself, `Somebody ought to do something
about this!' Then I realized that I am somebody."
Anonymous
Not so long ago, I remember telling a friend (a
bit testily, to be sure) that I could sense an almost palpable cockiness
in our opponents. They came across to me so genuinely confident their movement
was riding the tide of history that it was taking all their resolve just
to keep from rubbing it in - - you know, advise us to wise up, retire to
the attic, and gather dust along with the rest of the relics. And why not?
Times were flush.
Today, looking at this in the light of today's much different setting,
it would seem that their mistake was less that their vision was short-sighted
(although it was) than it was because it was narrow. Let me clarify.
Historian Paul Meier has an arresting metaphor which I would like to adapt
to our situation. When they were viewing the contemporary scene, pro-abortionists
made the error of using the standard 50-millimeter lens most cameras come
with when what was needed was a wide-angle lens.
Re-electing an abortion-maximizer like Bill Clinton was no small triumph;
likewise, fending off (at least for now) a ban on partial-birth abortions
was nothing to sneeze at. But they were only the foreground of a picture
that, had it been properly framed, would have shown interesting background
details and revealed items off to both sides.
Over the last few issues of NRL News we've exposed the reasons for
the gradual erosion of support for abortion - - the wider picture I just
alluded to - - which I will not run through again. Let me add another perhaps
less spectacular but no less meaningful snapshot. Because it has much wider
application, it invites us to greater confidence that the cause of defenseless
life is gathering momentum.
Myles N. Sheehan, S.J., describes himself as a Catholic, a Jesuit priest,
and a physician. Writing in the March 21 America magazine, Sheehan
explains why he became "publicly pro-life."
What he learned, and unlearned, along the way is by no means unique to
him. For the most part his reservations are universal stumbling blocks.
How he overcame them - - in part with the help of pro-lifers - - offers
important clues on how to approach those who hold pro-life convictions but
are skittish about going public. It also illustrates God's unending love
for each of us, never more so than in times of deep distress.
Sheehan writes with humility, not false modesty. Repeatedly, he insists
that he is no saint but rather a weak vessel like all of us. So it is that
he is "grateful to God for the grace to refuse and the grace to respond
with compassion" and alternatives when he was occasionally asked to
participate in an abortion. Similarly, as a physician whose speciality is
the care of the elderly, he has resisted hints (subtle and otherwise) to
"help" people die.
Thus he was never "personally lukewarm in a pro-life stand."
Yet Sheehan was reluctant to speak publicly about pro-life for three reasons:
(1) concern he'd be so ineffective he would do more harm than good; (2)
the possibility of alienating individuals who might otherwise come to him
in his role as a priest; and (3) "my own imagined fears about the types
of people with whom I would associate" - - i.e., violence-prone, right-wing
Neanderthals.
#1 really was the fear that he would come across judgmentally; that he
would express his opposition in a counterproductive way that signaled he
did not understand either human frailty or that life and death decisions
are not easy nor casually made. He had to be firm about what was right and
what was wrong but also be unafraid to "grapple with the structures
of sin erected by our society that make the choice for death sometimes seem
so reasonable."
#2 was Sheehan's apprehension that he would polarize people rather than
furthering the "ministry of reconciliation." He is firm in his
opposition to abortion and euthanasia, but knows that he must convey that
position by "speaking the truth in love about what divides and reaching
out across that division." Reaching out in love is in service of what
Sheehan calls a "hard truth worth remembering: It is impossible to
conduct a ministry of reconciliation unless people realize a need for reconciliation."
#3 need not detain us long. Sheehan found out what anyone who is fair would.
For the most part, pro-lifers are everyday people "concerned about
the quality of life in this country, who worry about their children and
their elderly relatives, who are far from monolithic in their political
agendas, and who are struggling to find effective ways to respond to a society
where life is continually devalued."
What got Sheehan over the hump? The "proximate cause" was a persistent
Respect Life office director. But it was something else that "pushed
me." The "necessary shove" was grace: "God's grace in
the events of my life brought me to reflect on my own experiences, consider
their meaning and respond to the best of my ability."
As a physician Sheehan knew that, in spite of the rhetoric of euthanasia
proponents, effective pain control is almost always available. But a real
turning point, both in internalizing his head-knowledge opposition to the
culture of death and in leading him to publicly take up the pro-life cause,
came with the events leading up to the death of his father, who in the end
succumbed to Alzheimer's disease and vascular dementia.
Sheehan was understandably angry; something of a "control freak,"
he found his dad's gradual disintegration "hard to face." What
salvaged the situation, and his heart, was the nursing home staff. The "dignity
and love and human community showed my dad by those who cared for him taught
me that life goes on and has its beauty even when my expectations are not
met."
Beyond the impetus that came from these "deeper realities of life"
discovered as a doctor and a son, he also came to feel that speaking out
publicly was part of the Jesuit's "mission of faith and justice,"
an explicit part of which is "to safeguard human life itself from its
beginning to its natural end, life that is severely threatened by the so-called
culture of death."
At the end of his article, Sheehan still has reluctance and doubt but had
begun "to feel that I could not be true to myself unless I shared with
others my insights and experiences in this matter of caring for life."
He doesn't brag or suggest his is "special or precious," which
makes him (as he continually reminds his readers) just "like everyone."
We understand Sheehan perfectly. Pro-lifers are not saints. We are tough-minded,
tender-hearted realists. As regular people, we know life is difficult
under the best of circumstances. In our role, as pro-lifers we interact
with women in the toughest of circumstances. Doing what's right when most
everyone around you is screaming "take the easy way out" requires
tremendous courage, unbelievable strength of character, and mountains of
fortitude and spiritual stamina.
We greatly admire those women who make it to the top of the mountain and
share the grief of those who don't. That's what it means to be pro-life.
dha