Which Presidential Candidate Is Truly Pro-Life?

From Nicholas P. Carfardi in National Catholic Reporter:

"First of all, I don't know anyone who is pro-abortion. Think about what that word means. It means you favor women becoming pregnant so you can help them abort their child and maybe profit from it. It is an ugly word, and it is used to emotionalize the debate when what we are really talking about is people who do not favor criminalizing abortion because they believe criminal statutes are ineffective ways to solve social evils. This makes them pro-choice, not pro-abortion.

There is no doubt Obama is pro-choice. He has said so many times. There is also no doubt Romney is running on what he calls a pro-life platform. But any honest analysis of the facts shows the situation is much more complicated than that..."

Read the full article here.

New Flower

I was seven years old on that rare spring afternoon. The main school building at Loretto Academy sat flat and high on a hill in the suburbs – really, it was the last major structure out on that distant end of W. Road, perched on the border of the actual countryside, that vast, golden-green distance of field and vale and farm. This, the local news media had taught me, was “tornado country,” land of monstrous clouds and great winds. I had developed a bit of fear of wide open spaces because it seemed that in such spaces, tornadoes, the deadly sky-snakes, thrived. Accordingly, our fenced-in back yard with its tidy lawn, protective trees, and access to an underground basement was my preferred pastoral venue.

     
But this day, I received a genuine introduction to countryside when Sr. Anne decided to hold the end-of-day story-reading time outside on a strikingly lovely day. She herded the small second-grade class outdoors, taking us beyond the boundaries of the parking lot, to a small shady hill bordered with trees and a low wooden fence. She invited us to sit down on the ground, a carpet of freshly sprouted grasses and clovers. She did not have to ask us to be quiet. Perhaps none of us children had ventured this far beyond the parking lot previously, but what lay before us was a sweeping view of open farm country, all so richly, wildly green on a warm day after snowmelt. No buildings were in view. Just rolling hills, smooth as velvet; small blue creeks tucked into the low spots between the hills, and perhaps two dozen cows, standing still as statues in the sweet warm breeze. All was lush, light, and new. The sky held just a few white cotton-puff clouds; when they passed in front of the sun, slow shadows moved over the hills, and it seemed that the cosmos itself was caressing the earth. All we could hear, before Sister opened her book to read aloud, was the whispering breeze and the soft clang of distant cow bells.

     
Sister was reading us The Velveteen Rabbit that day, but I don’t recall a word of it. I was transfixed by the warmth of the air and the unashamed beauty of the day. My heart was a new flower opening under a beckoning sun. I sat with my hands on the ground, palms flat on the dark rich soil, sinking my own invisible roots into this blessed world.

Salt and Light

"You are salt for the earth . . .  You are light for the world." ~Mt. 5: 13, 14

I recall a wonderfully clarifying homily in which our pastor reflected on the meaning of “salt” and “light.” Previously, I had understood “salt” to mean flavoring – i.e., if we are to be “salt” for the world, we offer our own particular "seasoning" -- our experiences, our witness, our perspectives, our gifts -- as nourishment for others. Likewise, we are not to "hide our light under a bushel."

But Fr. M expanded on the “salt” metaphor. When salt is added to create flavor, not much is needed. Furthermore, the salt disappears after it is added. Flavor remains, but the salt is hidden. Similarly, the world needs light, but it doesn’t need blinding. The gift of light enables people to see, but they see not by focusing on the light itself. They are able to see what could not have been seen in darkness – they see what the light reveals – and not really the light itself.

It is a wonderful teaching on humility and sharing one’s talents. We share what we are and the gifts we have --  not to bring attention to ourselves, but to bring seasoning to the stew. If the stew was made of ONLY salt, it would be inedible and unhealthy. Flavor is necessary, yet our task is not to highlight our particular flavor, but to provide it for something greater than ourselves. And we stop hiding our light under a bushel so that it can reveal what was hidden, enable vision for others -- not so that our own shining becomes the focus of the journey.