http://www.nytimes.com/2015/07/26/opinion/sunday/ross-douthat-looking-away-from-abortion.html
http://douthat.blogs.nytimes.com/2015/08/05/there-is-no-pro-life-case-for-planned-parenthood/?_r=0
http://thefederalist.com/2013/10/29/surprising-ingredient-pro-life-culture/
This is no more than a reflection on my current thoughts and experience. I may write more later, or I may not.
I struggle with cynicism and a sense of
futility. I was not surprised to hear that Planned Parenthood sold
fetal organs. I assumed that they did, and that everyone knew that
they did. I thought that people didn't care.
I went to my first pro-life protest
today.
Standing on the sidewalk, watching the
people, listening to what they had to say, left me isolated. The group is fractured.
Many people focus on the current conflict, but there are still signs
about other issues, more vaporous ones.
I'm skeptical of protests. I don't know
what they do.
Can I communicate anything real by
standing there? I refused to hold any of the signs. Some of the signs
were very problematic. "Baby lives matter." Yes,
absolutely, but is usurping another issue's rallying cry the right
approach?
My friend told me that I have too high
of a standard for public rhetoric, and maybe I do. But to join in a
protest is to join in support of that rhetoric. Can I stand with a
group when I agree with only part of what they're saying? My God is
not a jukebox that I can feed prayer into - prayer that is
"supercharged by fasting" - in order to accomplish things. Can I stand next to a man with a megaphone as he proclaims that view and justify it by saying that we are united in purpose?
Lines of people fill either side of the
street, holding neon-coloured signs. It's a quiet and subdued group,
none of the yelling I feared. There is only one sign with graphic
abortion images. There are a few scattered Spanish signs, and a Lady
of Guadalupe flag. There is no Planned Parenthood presence other than
two bored security guards who do nothing more than make sure the
driveway and sidewalk leading up to the front door remains clear.
Everyone seems very friendly, and I relax. If standing on the
sidewalk is sufficient to proclaim that I stand against the killing
and selling of people, then I can do that.
Then two young women approached Planned
Parenthood. The mood shifted. The old Catholic lady a few feet away
from me threw holy water on them.
I flinched.
That's not the message I wanted to
support.
Walking away at the end of the protest,
I still mulled over many things. And will continue to do so. I think
people care - not all of them, but more than I thought. But some people don't care enough. And some people don't
know how to care. And some people feel trapped behind the signs and
the holy water, not knowing how to approach the real problem, how to
cut across the binary of disagreement in an act of love.
