Who condemns whom for what? Why can we not settle something—once and for all? Laws may help or hinder, but they do not settle every conscience, every heart.
On Palm Sunday, we Christians wave palms, shout Alleluia/Hosanna, and march about triumphantly singing hymns of joy and triumph. This Jesus is Messiah, and he will triumph. Yes, and…….. some of those palms, symbols of enormous hope, are soon burned to ashes, symbol for repentance of sin.
Amendment #14 of the Constitution could be a palm or ashes.
The 14th Amendment, created to protect formerly enslaved people, was passed in 1868 and guarantees that “all persons born or naturalized in the United States … are citizens of the United States … and no State shall make or enforce any law which shall abridge the privileges or immunities of citizens of the United States.”
In 1973, writing for the majority opinion in Roe v. Wade, Justice Harry Blackmun said that a woman’s right to an abortion was implicit in the right to privacy protected—under the 14th amendment. Palms.
In the decision to overturn Roe v. Wade in 2022, Justice Samuel Alito wrote: “Guided by the history and tradition that map the essential components of the Nation’s concept of ordered liberty, the Court finds the 14th Amendment clearly does not protect the right to an abortion.” Ashes.
Different decades, different interpretations.
If, however, the ERA (Equal Rights Amendment) were included in the Constitution, there would be no doubt that discrimination on the basis of sex was illegal.
The 14th Amendment was NEVER intended to protect women. So how can it be invoked in discussions about the ERA to justify a private decision, such as abortion, made by a woman, just because she is a woman, not because she has greater moral accountability than a father? Will he be arrested too? Who makes the decision here—she, he, them, the unborn, or the government?
* * * *
When life is at stake, I usually want the law to protect that life whenever possible. That includes animals. An unborn fetal life, even one as yet unformed, should be protected. However, in the case of abortion there are at least three lives involved—that of the mother, that of the father, and that of the unborn child—not to mention the whole dang family. There is no question in my mind that this is a very difficult—sacrificial—decision that cannot be made without great pain; nor is it a decision that can be made with perfect equity. That is why it must be personal—not mandated by law or church or state. This decision must remain free and left up to the only one whose whole life, not just her body, is most directly and immediately affected by the consequences.
CASE: I once drove a young 16-year-old girl to the hospital where she would get an abortion. She had already formed dreams of being an attorney. Still, the most obvious, immediate, and dominant fact—one she knew for certain in this moment—was that she was neither willing nor equipped to birth and take care of a child. So her decision, though painful, was entirely her own discernment. It was not a matter of law. She does not regret her decision but continues to grieve the death of her unborn child, a son she intuited, named, and remembers often, many years later. The human heart remembers—always. Palms and Ashes.
What the mind must legislate, the heart must mourn.
In Greek tragedies there is alway a tragic flaw, usually in the main character. The flaw here is in the system not its players. The flaw is allowed by God, the Creator of all life, who relinquished control in favor of a greater gift, that of freedom. All freely chosen decisions are therefore spiritual, that is, made with consideration given to every aspect of this life decision—not just the rule of law or commandment but the total wellbeing of all parties involved in the outcome.
If this seems impossibly difficult, it is. There is no divine gift more difficult to live out than freedom, also no gift as highly valued. This is why divine mercy is built into creation alongside freedom from the beginning. What is the first thing the humans do in the mythic story of Eden? Right. They do the one thing they are told will bear them ill consequences. They choose freedom. We often do this too—take a chance and bear the consequences. The balance of freedom and love, the interlocking of good and evil, make an abortion decision unbearably, unmanageably, tragic. (The root of the word tragic is from tragos or goat.)
Such a decision is spiritual—not driven by law, rule, or even sacred oath but arising from the depth dimension—that place some call Soul, and I call the depth dimension. God, I am sure by prayer, is present within this process at every step, allowing our freedom to be free even through agony or error, and even if a decision proves fatal to self or other.
CASE: I was working as a pastoral psychotherapist. A colleague where I worked came to see me to talk about an abortion she had many years ago. I listened and she told me she had pretty much forgiven herself, but she was fretting because she had never named this child she’d intuited as a son. This bothered her to tears. I had no idea exactly what would console her. Then I remembered I was a priest, so I asked her if she would like her son to be baptized and named. She brightened. We got a bowl of warmed water from the kitchen. I consecrated (blessed) the water. She held an invisible infant while I poured water, mingled with her warm tears (some of mine too) over her opened hands and we said the words of Holy Baptism, using the name she chose. Ashes to Palms.
