A Story of Homecoming

In the second editorial that appears on this page, I'll be discussing the massive March for Life whose gigantic numbers no media outlet did justice to, and the six cap-in-hand Democratic presidential aspirants who dutifully attended NARAL's January 21 fundraiser. (No dummy, NARAL has changed its name for the fourth time to eliminate the very word "abortion." Its latest moniker is NARAL Pro-Choice America.)

In an issue dedicated to commemorating the countless activities pro-lifers undertook on the 30th anniversary of Roe v. Wade, I would like to talk about vision. Let me explain what I mean.

This space has often been used to ponder what it means to "see" the unborn. Blinded by ignorance and indifference, many men and women are, in a sense, almost pro-life proof. They cannot see that what we've done to unborn children is an atrocity that must be ended.

My conclusion? That not until the littlest American enters the moral vision of our people will she be recognized for who she truly is: one of us, deserving of love, life, and legal protection.

But it is clear to me that, like a photographic negative beginning to develop, the "picture" of the unborn is gradually coming into focus. Still blurry, to be sure, but far sharper than it was only a few years ago.

I was reminded of this truth when I read Henri Nouwen's, The Return of the Prodigal Son: A Story of Homecoming.

Nouwen, one of the great Catholic writers of the past 40 years, recorded this deeply personal spiritual odyssey after seeing a poster of Rembrandt's The Return of the Prodigal Son. In his book Nouwen brings the parable and the painting to life with what Michael Joseph Gross described as his "empathic analyses" of not only the Prodigal Son, older brother, and father, but also the "by-standers" whom Rembrandt included in his painting.

For our immediate purposes, the most revealing paragraph is when Nouwen explains what he saw when he went to view the original in St. Petersburg, staying hours and hours to contemplate the masterpiece. See if you see what I see.

"The painting was exposed in the most favorable way, on a wall that received plenty of natural light through a large nearby window at an eighty-degree angle. Sitting there, I realized that the light became fuller and more intense as the afternoon progressed. At four o'clock the sun covered the painting with a new brightness, and the background figures--which had remained quite vague in the early hours--seemed to step out of their dark corners. As the evening drew near, the sunlight grew more crisp and tingling. The embrace of the father and son became stronger and deeper, and the bystanders participated more directly in the mysterious event of reconciliation, forgiveness and inner-healing. Gradually I realized that there were as many paintings of the Prodigal Son as there were changes in the light, and, for a long time, I was held spellbound by the gracious dance of nature and art."

For pro-lifers this is a beautiful illustration of what is happening before our very eyes. As the "day" has worn on, the "background figures" (unborn children) "which had remained quite vague in the early hours" are now stepping "out of their dark corners."

The "light" that has brought new brightness is the illumination afforded by the likes of 4-D ultrasounds, on the one hand, and your prophetic witness, on the other. In the face of such beauty and faithfulness, pro-abortion rhetoric about "blobs of tissue" sounds almost quaint. Such stupid banalities, like the movement that spawned these dark and evil deceptions, are like museum pieces gathering dust.

For three decades, abortion has pitted parents against unborn children in a very unevenly matched battle that has claimed the lives of over 43 million babies and the peace of mind of an entire nation. But the forces of darkness are beginning to give way to more "crisp and tingling" sunlight.

Nouwen could have been writing about America and her unborn children when, as he continued to study Rembrandt's painting closer and closer, he concluded, "the embrace of the father and son became stronger and deeper, and the bystanders participated more directly in the mysterious event of reconciliation, forgiveness and inner-healing."

Reconciliation, forgiveness, and inner-healing--medicine to heal 30 years of self-inflicted pain and alienation. The cure for what ails us is as beautiful, lovely, and generous as Roe is ugly, wretched, and selfish.

You've stood tall for more years than any of us would have anticipated or wanted. But I know that you will stay at your posts for as long as is needed.

Faithfulness and pro-life are interchangeable words, two sides of the same coin. It could not be otherwise, for we know that we owe unyielding fidelity not only to the little ones and to our great nation, but also to ourselves.

dave andrusko can be reached at daveandrusko2002@yahoo.com