Hobbit-Sense at OneFreeGarden.com

I’ve seen, as have I’m sure many other Christians, a dissatisfaction with the vast difference many people perceive between the God of the Old Testament and the God of the New Testament.  And, since it’s extremely early and I can’t sleep and Lent has just begun, what better time to take a look at it, yes?

Glad you agree.

Here’s the basic problem:  God in the OT seems mean– we’ve got plagues, floods wiping out earth, destruction, wandering in deserts, wars, etc., and of course, the biggie, the expulsion from Eden.  And then in the NT, in walks Jesus, who’s all about love and kindness and challenging other people’s lifestyles, and who, in many an idyllic view, never seemed to raise his voice or what have you.  The people who see these as highly incompatible have a good point– these don’t really fit.  But they then face the logical problem of this:  if God is truly God as we describe him, his nature ought to be constant.  That is, we say God is Love, God is Truth, etc., and these things don’t change.  Why, then, does God?

And if he does change, why is he worth our worship?  Can’t we pick the one we like better?

I think at the heart of this, though, is a misunderstanding of our predicament as sinners.  I’m like most people, I think, in that I think of most people as basically good people.  I like to think of myself as basically a good person.  And I think (and hope!) there are merits in these opinions.  But we have to understand divine-human relations as, well, a relationship– with the same principle behind it as any relationship:  namely, that it can be broken.

At my university, as at several, and particularly at military colleges, there is an honor code or honor system as you prefer.  Some schools with an honor system have varying punishments, but the strongest honor system schools only have one:  you’re out.  Why?  Because they understand that at the heart of every relationship is trust, and to break trust is to break the relationship.  All that remains is to sever formal ties;  it’s merely a formality.

This is where we stand as human beings.  We’ve broken the relationship between us and God– thousands of times, each of us.  And God is Love, Truth, and Life– so when we leave him, we get Death, Lies, and Destruction.  That’s not a vengeful God of the OT;  that’s justice, as painful as it is to admit it.  Those punishments are what we all deserve.

So why the “difference” between OT and NT?  Well, Jesus.  Because throughout human history, the one God of testaments Old and New had a plan to restore us to him, to bridge the chasm our sin creates between us, with a bloodied cross as our passage.  It’s not that God’s supposed vengence goes away;  it’s that Christ takes upon himself a punishment that is, justly, ours.  As Paul says, the “wages of sin is death.”  That means that the eternal separation and death we deserve gets redirected at Christ, the innocent but willing victim.

The “problem” between OT and NT exists only as a problem of perspective.  Mostly, we like to think of ourselves as the good guys– I know I’d like to idealise myself as right there with John and Mary at the foot of the cross.  But the problem is, we’re really like the thieves hanging right beside Christ.  For those of us who know it, we know we are there justly, not at the whim of a cruel god, but nailed there by our own sins.  The only “difference” between the New Testament and the Old Testament God is that from the Crucifixion onward, there is the opportunity to be like the Good Thief.  That is, to know that our punishment is just, and yet claim Christ’s sacrifice on our behalf:

Remember me, when you come into your kingdom.

–Rosy

Dawn noted on my last post that I’d basically upped the ante for God- and I think that’s an accurate way to put it.  But I guess it’s good to keep in mind that in a poker game, you keep betting until everyone’s even.  Ironically enough, I even found mention of a “poker priest” who’ll be on a televised competition, trying to win money for his parish.

I have to say, I really enjoy watching Texas Hold’em, which is a rare game where it’s definitely more about the betting– much more about the betting than the cards.  You don’t play the cards in Hold’em:  you play the people.  So I’ve watched and gotten all the catch phrases down- “Pocket deuces” and “he flopped trips!”  and calling Kings “cowboys” and such.  And in case you haven’t watched Celebrity Poker Showdown (the one you actually learn the most from) or the World Series of Poker, here’s a quick primer on how it goes.

There are some obligatory bets in Hold’em – a bigger one and a smaller one (half the bigger one)- called “blinds.”  Then those who haven’t put in the largest amount in have three options: “fold” and be out of the round, spending nothing;  ”call” and put in enough to match the big blind;  ”raise” by putting in more money.  The trick of the raise is that after that, everyone has to put in enough to match it or else fold.  And players can “re-raise.”

And that’s exactly what I think has been happening with me, Ten Prayers, and God.

Today I dawdled and delayed a bit by reading more in Orthodoxy (GKC) and Ten Prayers (DeStefano) before realising that, yes, I did actually have to shower and get dressed (I was in fact in my pajamas quite late- I like them and had nowhere to go yet) and go to Mass.  I hit chapter 8 today, well started it- at 1:40 I finally came to my senses (English Mass is at 3- well there’s one at 9 but I’d have to leave at about 8:10 to get there and that’s not going to happen right now).

I had to pull myself out of Ten Prayers in Chapter 8:  ”Sometimes Being Smart Just Isn’t Enough; God, Give Me Wisdom.”  DeStefano was just telling me about asking God to help with decisions.  This is an area in which I can use a lot of encouragement.

I think it comes down to being afraid of what God will say.  What if he wants me to be a “holy beggar” or something?  What if he wants me to do something completely different from what I thought?  What if he tells me and I don’t know how to listen?  Actually, the last one is a biggie for me, because the thing I miss most from my childhood is the closeness I felt with him, where I was sure I heard his voice.  I don’t regret growing up, but I do regret growing foolish and unable to hear him.  How will I know what he wants?  And will I be able to give it?  I know logically and through faith God won’t give more than I can handle, but that hasn’t stopped the fear.  I guess that’s why any time he has a big announcement, it starts with, “Don’t be afraid.”  In one sense, I trust God quite a lot– because of my closeness as a child, I have been blessed with certainty of his existence.  In the senses that matter more in everyday life… I’m a real skeptic.

But I’ve been smart enough, I think, to be skeptical about my own plans as well.  I just don’t know that they’re what he wants, so I don’t have complete peace with them.  So I figured I ought to pray that prayer.  I almost “dashed it off” quickly as I read and then hopped in the shower.  I figured I’d already gone in on the whole charitable giving thing, and that if I really missed that closeness, prayer was the only way to get it back.  So I said it.

And God saw my bet, and re-raised me.

As I mentioned in a Quick Take a couple weeks back, I was asked to lector at Mass the second Sunday I attended, after which I also said, I’ll be here til July, so you’ll see me around.  Well, every Sunday I’ve been since then I’ve been asked to lector.  Not only have I been asked to lector, but I’ve been given the biggest portion- first reading plus the psalm response.  Today I only got there with about 5-8 minutes to spare, and figured they’d have already gotten someone.  But I guess they were hoping I’d show because I sat down and immediately was handed the lectionary.  The fellow who is basically the acolyte and does things like assign readings and get Communion counts told me they love it when I read.  I’m one of the few English speakers there from a country where it’s the sole dominant language so it’s easier for me to be expressive I think, plus I figured if I’m reading it I should read it with expression.  As long as no one else is getting shafted, I’m happy to help, even though a bit nervous when I step up there.

Given that I’m eight hours ahead of EST, it’s entirely possible that some folks haven’t gone to Mass or service if you’re in a Protestant church that follows the calendar of readings, so here’s a little liturgical “spoiler alert.”

I looked down at the book, and I almost had tears running down my cheeks– my eyes were suffused with them, and are again now even thinking about it.  Here is the first reading:

I prayed, and prudence was given me,

I pleaded, and the spirit of wisdom came to me.

I preferred her to scepter and throne,

and deemed riches nothing in comparison with her,

nor did I liken any precious gem to her;

because all gold, in view of her, is a little sand,

and before her, silver is to be accounted mire.

Beyond health and comeliness I loved her,

and I chose to have her rather than the light,

because the splendor of her never yields to sleep.

Yet all good things together came to me in her company,

and countless riches at her hands.

– Wisdom (!) 7:7-11

Okay, okay, I get it.  That’s a dose of wisdom, a “trust me” and an implied “be not afraid” all in one, right when I asked for wisdom.  I don’t get amazed by “coincidences” — I am constantly amazed by how detailed God is, and how, if you’re looking, he’s really hitting you over the head (lovingly, of course) all the time– he just knows everything so well that he stands behind you encouraging you, and is the ground beneath you so you have a good path, and is the star before you to follow, and when you finally do listen, he’s already in the place he’s been leading you to, ready to welcome you in.  It’s mind blowing, because it’s so incredible- and so incredibly loving.

I’ve been shuffling my way along on this wisdom thing for a long time.  I think God even helped the priest out with the homily today just for me, the one about the rich man who doesn’t want to give up all his stuff.  He said something like, ‘It’s not enough to stay out of trouble;  you have to go beyond that.’  Giving God something to outdo, and now asking him for wisdom– and it seems like that line is just for me.

You know what I didn’t mention about betting in poker?  At any point in the game, any player who’s still got his hand can go “all in” — and anyone who wants to remain in the game has to go all in, too.  I think the reason I was folding so many hands was because I’ve been afraid of going all in.  I hope that the prayers I’ve been praying, “God, outdo me in generosity,” “God, give me courage,” “God, give me wisdom,” and “Jesus Christ, son of God, have mercy on me, a sinner,” will prepare me to go all in.

I sure hope so– because I’m finally starting to want it again.

-theRosyGardener

Updated only to add categories and correct a typo in which I accidentally claimed I’d been asked to lecture at church– thankfully for both my pride and the very lives of anyone potentially subjected to a lecture by me, I was asked to lector.  And all my family will commence laughing now….

I can’t recall if I mentioned but I am a native Bay Stater.  In fact, Ted Kennedy has been my senator for my whole life– in fact, he has been a senator almost as long as my parents have been alive.  I have had severe philosophical differences with the senator both on issues of governance (I’m a liberal in the classical sense, not in the big government sense) and moral ones (yes, red flag to a bull, the abortion issue).  I also have hated the mystical near-worship of the Kennedy clan in this area– I don’t believe fantasy of that kind is good for anyone, especially not the person (or group) being lionised.

The Catholic blogosphere, which generally crosses the political spectrum, has been ablaze with the subject of Ted Kennedy’s death.  What I have encountered has been just- neither sugarcoating his sins nor claiming to know the status of his soul.  I’ve had a lot of disparate thoughts about this subject, but I wanted to add my two cents in my own little corner of the internet.

From a Catholic perspective, there are a few things to be said about the senator.  There are rumors (many substantiated) of infidelity and alcoholism.  There is the sad story of Mary Jo Kopechne whose life was imperiled by Kennedy and whose death was caused by his failure to procure help.  And the clincher for most devout Catholics- the one thing that they really can’t get past- is his support for abortion.

And by all rights, abortion is something we should never “get past.”  There is no getting over so grave an evil.

But stories have started to trickle out that have made me look Ted Kennedy in a different light.  I don’t do well at personal malice (atleast of people I don’t know, excluding Andrew Jackson whom I despise– no room for explanation), so I never disliked Teddy K– in fact, he’s someone I imagine I would really like on a personal level.  He and his family also have my sympathy for having suffered so many tragedies.  It cannot have been easy to have been the last brother out of four when the other three all died young and tragically.

The stories have to do with prayer.  I heard someone say that the Eucharist was the center of his life.  I don’t know if that was true.  But I do know of two different people, both of whom disagreed with him politically, that they saw him praying.

The first is from Kathryn Lopez, who writes for the National Review, saw him at daily Masses in DC when she dropped in from an internship at the Heritage Foundation (a conservative thinktank).  And not just once or twice.  As she said, “[H]e probably led some people astray by his example. But our faith also teaches that we are all sinners and that there is redemption.”

The second is from a man, I don’t remember his name, who lives in the area of the basilica of Our Lady of Perpetual Help, covered in the Boston Herald.  He described himself as a ’small goverment guy,’ and also as someone who dropped into the basilica having been taught by nuns to visit our Mother daily.  He too saw Senator Kennedy there, in the pew, deep in prayer.  This gentleman, who serves as an acolyte at noon dailies, had hoped he’d be allowed to serve, political differences aside.  Most important to me, however, is that these stories were not told while the senator lived– his prayers were not for show.

There is no escaping the fact that Kennedy’s flaws and particularly his public political support for abortion have given scandal and also have harmed the Church through tacit encouragement of the view that one can be a Catholic in good standing and support morally objectionable causes that have been expressly prohibited by the Vatican.  But there is also no escaping God, whose standard shows all of us that our “good standing” leaves quite a lot to be desired.

I will make no excuses for Senator Kennedy’s actions;  they are grave ones indeed.  But reading all these little tidbits, listening to the eulogies at the wake and the funeral (Teddy Jr.’s was especially good), I felt little tugs on my memory.  Wisps of the story wafted around my brain until I could finally grasp just whom this Ted Kennedy I was just starting to know reminded me of:  the tax collector in the temple.

Remember that parable?  Two men go to the temple to pray.  The first is a pharisee who thanks God that he follows all the laws and is better than lots of other people, including the second man.

The second man, a public sinner by virtue of being a tax collector, doesn’t even approach the front, doesn’t even look heavenward.  Instead, so conscious is he of his sin that he only stands, pleading with God, “Have mercy on me, a sinner!”

I don’t have any special knowledge of anything, let alone Ted Kennedy’s soul.  But, for all his faults, though they were grave and in some cases persistent, I just have this inkling that he clung to prayer like that second man.  The good father at the Byzantine Rite church we go to occasionally said today, in that Tradition, we say that we are the first of sinners in the Liturgy– a Liturgy which is suffused with petitions for God to be merciful.  Perhaps that is the lesson of Senator Kennedy’s life to those of us who remain- a reminder that we are all wholly dependent on the mercy of God.

And just because it’s a beautiful prayer that bears repeating, here is the prayer Byzantine Rite Catholics (in various Churchs- e.g. Ukrainian Catholic Church), say before receiving the Eucharist:

I believe, O Lord, and confess that You are indeed the Christ, the Son of the living God, Who came into the world to save sinners, of whom I am the first.

Of Your mystical supper, make me a partaker this day, O Son of God, for I will not speak of Your mysteries to Your enemies, nor like Judas will I give You a kiss, but like the good thief will I confess to You.

Remember me, O Lord, when You shall come into Your kingdom.

Remember me, O Master, when You shall come into Your kingdom.

Remember me, O Holy One, when You shall come into Your kingdom.

Not for judgment, nor for condemnation be for me the partaking of these Your Holy Mysteries O Lord, but for the healing of my body and soul.

O God be merciful to me a sinner. God, cleanse my sins and have mercy on me. Innumerably have I sinned, forgive me, O Lord.

Two posts in one week– amazing!  Thanks so much for bearing with me.  This one has been floating around in the forefront of my mind for about a week I think (and longer in the background) and I’m waiting for my company’s tech guy to call me back so I figured this was a good use of a bit of downtime.

There is a concept articulated very clearly in Catholic teaching that goes something like this: “Love the sinner, abhor the sin.”  There may well be other traditions that have this idea, but it seems to get discarded really quickly these days, by Christians of all stripes, including Catholics.  And it usually comes from misguided understanding of love.

Let me make a collectivised version of the argument:

God’s love is unconditional.  Therefore, we Christians are called to love unconditionally.  Unconditional love doesn’t stop because we don’t like something about the person.  In fact, people who make a big deal about other people’s choices in the name of Jesus often act in unloving ways.  So, when people single out things they think are wrong about people (individually or as groups), they’re not really loving them as they are.  So you can’t just separate sin and sinner and call that Christian charity.

The above argument is not without merit.  True enough, some people pound on sins, usually a few favorite vices, in a way that is basically devoid of any charity.  But the argument above has some serious issues.  One is that it misunderstands the entire point of abhoring sin and loving sinners, and the other is that it ends up destroying the very caritas or agape love it thinks it’s promoting.  And here’s why:

I have witnessed the effect of the anti-sin-abhorrence crowd in them, and any who follow it to its end invariably come to the same point:  they lose any sense of what makes a sin, and why it matters.  It is a very feel-good, teddy-bear faith to have a wishy-washy sense of “sin.”  Why?  Because when we reduce sin in this way, the only things that get called sins are either fairly obvious (like, say, murder) or very vague (“imposing on others,” for instance, or “hurting other people”), and everything else, including some very serious sins, become matters of opinion or, even worse, “personal preferences.”  No honesty discussion of morality happens when everything is prefaced by, “Well, this is what’s right for me.” But more importantly, there can be no true love without a strong concept of sin.

That may seem a little weird or backwards, but I am convinced that it’s true.  Why?  Because love doesn’t mean not seeing the flaws, even if a lovey-dovey couple goes through that phase.  When the honeymoon’s over, even the most rose-colored-glasses-wearing pair is going to realise that there are some things that seriously tick them off about each other.  A marriage doesn’t last because they decide that those aren’t really flaws– a marriage lasts because they decide that they love each other beyond those flaws, in spite of them, even.

If we go into Christian love blind to any flaws, we aren’t capable of actual Christian love.  I remember going to confession during Lent at my Catholic high school.  A girl in my math class had decided to pick on me a bit, and I’d finally had enough and started scoring her on her insults in a little scoreboard I made in a notebook called the “Bitch Olympics.”  It wasn’t particularly nasty, but it was somewhat effective, especially as the girl and her friends seemed to find it amusing.  Irony of ironies, we ended up on the same pew waiting for confession, and she said teasing me was on her confession list and I had to admit that the Bitch Olympics were on mine.

I got into the confessional, a nice dark one, with the kneeler and the screen, and even better, a priest I didn’t know at all.  He sounded old, with a withered strength to his voice.  I went through the usual- being mean to siblings, talking back to parents, and then I got to the Bitch Olympics, which certainly ranks among my most inventive sins.  Naturally, I detailed how she teased me, and how I knew it was wrong but did I mention she was teasing me?  And that I just didn’t like her?  The response I got was something like this:

Love isn’t a commandment because it’s easy.  It’s a commandment because it’s hard but it’s the right thing.  And Jesus commanded us to do it.  It doesn’t matter that you don’t like this girl, or that she’s mean to you.  You have to love her anyway.

I think when we take away the idea of sin, we are really robbing ourselves of the true virtue and commandment of love.  If we just accept the sins, downgrading them and acting like they don’t matter, we’re doing everyone involved a massive disservice.  It may seem like it’s no biggie, but think about two options a parent has when his child does something wrong– what about parents of kids who get involved in drugs or become promiscuous?  Who loves the child more, the “anything goes” parent, or the one who still loves his child despite these terrible deeds, and takes all the suffering that comes with it?

And while we’re talking about wayward children, if there isn’t any real sin beyond biggies or vague non-harm principles, why would Jesus bother to die for us?  I know it’s not what’s intended when people say you can’t separate sin and sinner, but the end result is that we actually denigrate the love of God for us.  Dying on a cross for perfect people isn’t nearly as heroic as dying for people who are pretty darn awful.  ”Blind love” that just ignores the things we don’t like doesn’t seem like real love at all.  I could keep going on and on trying to articulate it, but once again GK does it better:

Love means loving the unlovable, or it is no virtue at all. - GKC

Have a great week!

-Rosy

(A brief note that this is in no way a criticism of actual vegetarians.)

I’ve been mulling over this idea for a while but it was only in a conversation with Plush Appendix over the weekend that I put a name to it. I call it vegetarianism of faith not because of an abstenance borne of good will. Rather, this is the choice to avoid the “meatier” elements of faith, because they are disagreeable to the person.

That is, rather than go for the real core of faith, we stay at a comfortable surface level, where differences are matters of opinion rather than truth and honest discernment. This mentality leads to a tricky kind of idolatry, one which tends to replace God with a shifting notion of “social good” and, as Chesterton put it, “not merely by setting up false gods, but also by setting up false devils; by making men afraid of war or alcohol, or economic law, when they should be afraid of spiritual corruption and cowardice.”

The common good is certainly a Christian idea, but the mistake is in mistaking that for the whole of faith. These are the sort of people who point to Mother Teresa and Dorothy Day as examples of their kind of Catholocism or Christianity, and then proceed to make all sorts of unjustified assumptions that will aid in their avoidance of the center of their faith. They are very results focused- Mother Teresa is a hero because of all the help she gave the poor. But easily overlooked is why she did those things.

Mother Teresa didn’t do these things because she believed in a social good- she did those things because she loves Jesus. It wasn’t an ideology of common good, or a high ideal, even though those can be parts of it. But mistaking the effects of a deep love for Jesus as the equal of that love is an easy way out of the more difficult parts of faith. The moral requirements, the challenges to the ego, the reliance on God, and perhaps most importantly the awareness of one’s flaws– all these are easily set aside when faith is reduced to “being a good person,” which is an effect, not the source.

And yet practicioners of this meatless faith will claim that those who go beyond the broth are polemical because, having had the better portion, they will not surrender it or compromise its potency.

At the risk of adding even more to my various food metaphors, I will offer one last though, which is a challenge to everyone, myself included. As much as I wish it were otherwise, I’m often a vegetarian when it comes to faith. But I have found a useful reminder in the wedding feast at Cana: a lot of times we settle for the cheap wine. But if we will wait, and plead for help, and follow Mary’s injunction to “do whatever he tells you,” we will get the better wine. Our task then is to discern what are the hearty things we leave in the bowl, what is the cheap wine we’re settling for.

Thanks for bearing with my long absence and any lack of cohesion due to writing this on the small screen of an iTouch.

Best,
-Rosy

So, I’ve been working for three days now on another post, but I read this in the paper this morning and I wanted to post it.  Basically, the ACLU is suing Health and Human Services over the US Conference of Catholic Bishops because when they help victims of trafficking, they won’t allow money to go to services and items which are in conflict with Catholic teaching.  Here’s the crux of it:

The American Civil Liberties Union filed the complaint in federal court in Boston against the U.S. Department of Health and Human Services.

The suit claims HHS, which distributes funds to help trafficking victims, has allowed the U.S. Conference of Catholic Bishops to limit the services its subcontractors provide. The ACLU claims the bishops’ conference is misusing taxpayer money and attempting to impose its religious beliefs on trafficking victims. …

“The whole goal of this program is to provide the full range of services, and the concern is that because of a main contractor’s religious beliefs, it will be much more difficult for women to get these services,” said Brigitte Amiri, a staff attorney with the ACLU’s Reproductive Freedom Project.

Here is the whole article from The Boston Herald.

I know there are a lot of people with strong opinions on the ACLU as an organisation.  It doesn’t help their cause that the cases that get the most press are generally the most controversial ones.  In a sense, I can appreciate their dedication to taking on cases that oftentimes aren’t going to win them any fans, and defending clients who are otherwise reprehensible people (but aren’t necessarily legally responsible).  On the other hand, I have a sense that they like to create a ruckus atleast as much as they like to help people.

I have a couple big objections to this, one a bit of a legal squabble, and one culture/morality.

Legally, I think they chose to file suit in Boston because it is the most likely place it’ll be given any weight.  From the limited information, it seems like the ACLU contends that by funding the USCCB services, the HHS is violating equal protection for those who do not subscribe to the same beliefs or prohibitions.  They rest this claim on the assumption that denying certain services because they are in violation of religious doctrines constitutes imposition of religious beliefs.  Now, I don’t have all the answers, and I’m not a lawyer, but since I’m applying to law schools next year, I might as well try to start training my mind.  If any real lawyers stop by, maybe they can help me out here.

First, let’s tackle equal protection.  If the Department of Health and Human Services exclusively grants public funds to help victims of human trafficking to organisations like the USCCB that refuse to fund contraceptives, abortion/abortifacients, etc., they might have a case.  (A sidenote here:  the USCCB subcontracts with these funds, basically to dioceses.)  But I find that extremely unlikely.  I don’t have time to go tracking down HHS spending, but estimates on human trafficking are in the millions.  One organisation, even the USCCB sending the money on down to individual dioceses, can’t possibly be handling every victim of trafficking,  because they don’t have unlimited staff, either.  There is also nothing preventing victims of trafficking from seeking those refused services elsewhere;  there are other trafficking agencies, and entire groups devoted to offering abortion on demand.  The Catholic Church isn’t in the habit of holding people hostage, honestly.

Another thing is the idea of imposition of religious beliefs.  If the Catholic Church were the only organisation that opposed abortion and contraception it would still not prove imposition of religious beliefs.  Aside from making the wrongful assumption that there is no non-religious argument against abortion et al., I don’t think they can claim that anyone was forced to adopt the Catholic religion in whole or part.  They simply were not assisted in those particular ways.  

Now, some may argue that that is an imposition of some sort, so I’d like to create a parallel case.  Let’s say that the HHS was funding the Jainist equivalent of the USCCB.  Jainism as a religion considers vegetarianism part of its overall philosophy.  So, any help that anyone received would not involve animal products.  In clothing them, there would be nothing of leather (such as gloves in wintertime), in sheltering them they would use nothing that involved products taken from dead animals, and stocking up their refrigerator would not include meat, eggs, etc., even though the clients may be meat-eaters.  If the Jainists were to extract some promise of vegetarianism from clients, or to prohibit them from procuring meat on their own (neither of which would likely happen), then I think there would be a case for them imposing their religion on clients.  Well, the USCCB has done in effect the same thing:  they have not included in their aid things which they believe violate life.  The difference is political, not religious or philosophical.  I doubt any reasonable person would expect the ACLU to take on this hypothetical Jainist organisation.

I actually interned at a diocesan office that was responsible for diocesan efforts in helping immigrants and refugees, and probably would be the one to take care of trafficking victims that the USCCB took on.  The staff itself was not all-Catholic, it may not even have been half-comprised of Catholics (and this was a relatively large group).  And as an intern helping clients, I didn’t actually work with any clients who were Catholic.  I worked with Jewish and Muslim refugees from the former Soviet Union.  The faith I saw was that for some staff it was the reason they wanted to help people;  nobody was denied services based on it, nor did anyone proselytise.  So the entire imposition argument simply rests on refusal to provide some (few!) services that are against Catholic moral teaching.  The place I worked, and I imagine most others, tried to get people on their feet as quickly as possible – housing, jobs, money, English lessons and English translation.  In other words, if they want a condom, they can get one from the doctor they will most assuredly visit very easily, and probably can even manage to procure an abortion.  (I know Planned Parenthood takes donations (towards middle of article) to cover the costs of abortions for low-income women in crisis pregnancies.)

And now to the culture/morality issue..

This one really ticks me off.  The ACLU may be able to make a case, and I hope it comes right back to them, but really, it’s the cultural double-standard that bugs me more.  In our society, we have this idea than whatever an individual’s conscience says is okay for them – a moral system of “whatever floats your boat” in which a person decides for himself what right and wrong are, and no one can judge.  But people do judge all the time.  Many people have decided that abortion is wrong;  others have decided that it is right, or allowable, or more wrong to legislate their personal beliefs.  Of these two groups, pro-life and pro-choice (I call people as they prefer to be called), one’s beliefs are an imposition, and one’s aren’t, yet both get taxpayer money, and they don’t both get sued.  

So, is conscience okay or not?  I don’t really like the fact that public funds support abortion, something with a 100% casualty rate (as a bumper sticker put it: “Abortion: 1 dead, 1 wounded”).  And people who support it are apparently miffed that public funds go to groups that don’t support it, and yet they won’t even call it even.  My conscience and many others’ say thay abortion kills human beings, and really hurts the women who have them, and my Church (and other churches and groups are/)is willing to back that belief up with a lot of crisis pregnancy funding and help, with adoption agencies, and also with post-abortive counselling and support groups (which are desperately needed and have many clients, and which, according to pro-choice groups, there is no need for).

I guess I’m just frustrated that in our culture, we can bandy about phrases like conscience and liberty but when push comes to shove, certain groups want to exclude other groups.  I’d never tell Planned Parenthood they can’t have a seat at the table, despite the fact that they think we should be “beyond” my conscientious objections to murdering millions and turning the womb is designed to foster life into a place of death.  Where’s equal protection for our consciences?  I guess that doesn’t really fit the ACLU’s rubric for things worth defending.

For more depressing news, check out the plight of doctors in Wisconsin (hat tip to Matthew at CMR).  These are not isolated incidents;  they are coordinated assualts.

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thanks for reading!

-the Rosy Gardener

Editing to add a link to a post by my friend the Raving Theist posted at Dawn Eden’s site from 2006 about the ACLU “supporting” free speech by opposing “Choose Life” license plates:  “License to Kill” by the Raving Theist.