The Cry of the Weakest

Tension hung in the air, suspended, awaiting the gavel signaling the beginning of the life and death struggle. It was a capital murder trial of a young black man, accused of murder. On jury duty for the second time in as many years, I sat near the outside edge of the jury pool, listening as lawyers maneuvered to select the most advantageous jurors for their purposes. My turn came. There was a moment of silence, then half-embarrassed whispers among the attorneys, then a carefully-worded objection to the judge even before any questions were directed toward me. “Mr. Parker, will your er blindness effect your ability to render a fair verdict in the trial before this court?” asked the judge. In my mind’s eye, the statue out front of the courthouse rolled her eyes behind her makeshift blindfold and shook her head slightly in ironic resignation. I stood, hoped I was facing the judge and, leaning on my white cane, addressed the court. “Your honor, as a United States citizen it is my duty, my privilege and my right to serve on the jury in a trial. However, the rights of the accused trump my rights. If there is any chance that my blindness would interfere in a fair hearing for the accused, then his rights supersede mine.” (I think retroactive memory may have colored the phrasing a bit,. It was most likely far less dramatic and formal than my memory presents it to me now.) The judge conferred with the two attorneys and dismissed me with thanks. In this real, but perhaps slightly dramatized retelling of the event, two rights are in conflict: my right to serve on a jury versus the rights of the accused to have a fair hearing. How does a society like ours, built on the rights of individuals, resolve such conflicts? In this example, there are two layers of rights: The first is in the severity of the consequences; the second the relative powerlessness of the two. For the purposes of this essay, I would like to dwell on the second. A young black man in custody for murder in a mostly-white courtroom. Probably in handcuffs and with armed guards in the room, with the accusation staring him in the face, the accused was the one with the least power. Any attempt to escape would be met with instant dire consequences; I was free to leave of my own accord. His rights trumped mine. This relationship of power between two incompatible rights, I will call the Powerless Axis. Election 2012 is a little over two months away. Debate, accusation, lies and innuendo are flying thicker than flies on a cow patty. Abortion has just hit center stage with Todd Aiken’s “legitimate rape” comment. Stripped of all the political hot air, the issue crystalizes into the rights of an unborn fetus versus the rights of a woman over her own body. Many would disagree vehemently with my basic assumption that life is a continuum from conception to death. But since none can agree on a definition of life and since one cell divides into two, two into four until more than a trillion cells make up a living adult human, so the logic, for me, is that any dividing line is an arbitrary one, subject to legal definition but not to a moral definition. Back to my premise: Leaving all other considerations such as rape, incest, mother’s health out of the equation, and judging one versus the other and applying the Powerless principle, it is clear the fetus is the weaker; the more powerless; without any means of self-preservation against an abortion procedure. Our Founding Fathers did not consider women, slaves and non-landowners equal to the landed gentry such as G Washington and T Jefferson. Yet they laid a foundation on which the rights of these groups could be and would later be built. Recognizing their humanity, their individual worth, their value made it possible to eventually make these groups more equal with rich white men than they were in the past. Slaves were freed; women got the vote, land-ownership and other tests of voting were struck down. I believe that one of the reasons these eventually won out is that of a recognition of the relative powerlessness of one group under the domination of another. We are faced with an incredibly complex and divisive issue in abortion. Compounding the problem is its politization: being hijacked by both right and left for their own political power and appeal to various blocks of voters. We need to step back, take a deep breath and begin to assess abortion with at least this axis in mind. We will probably never come to consensus, but perhaps we can begin to speak to one another without the nails-on-blackboard screech that passes for discussion today. Perhaps we can wrestle the issue away from the idiocy of the political process and begin to discuss it in human terms among ourselves. Perhaps, over time, we could even resolve the dilemma in a way that protects the rights of mother and babe with dignity and compassion. May it be so. 08.23.12

As a Little Child

NPR’s “This American Life” for this week, featured stories about celebration of Christmas. These were not heart-warming stories in every case. One such story was of a family whose celebration had, for generations, featured some scenario designed to foster belief in Santa. One such scenario had Santa lost on a golf course, wandering around trying to find their home. Another year, the children found Santa sprawled on the ice in their back yard, exhausted and in tattered non-Santa clothes. They helped him regain his strength with food and rest and sent him on his way. The tradition was so strong and so real that the children’s belief lasted far longer than most children’s. In one case, a son of the family believed well into his teens. He faced a crisis when he forced his mother to tell him the truth. Now in his thirties, he blames his inability to form trusting relationships on what he feels is his parents’ betrayal of his childhood trust. The taproot of trust is buried deeply in the soil of dependence. Think of a child you know; one who is less than five. Without adult provision and guarding, it is unlikely the child will live. From conception into the teens, a child needs an adult for food, clothing, shelter, love, wisdom,. From conception to birth this dependency is extreme; whatever happens to the mother happens to the child. What she eats, drinks breathes is shared. From her all resources are gained. Separated from her, a child requires a great deal of very expensive support to survive. As consciousness and reason dawn, this dependence fosters trust—the ability to predict that what one needs will be provided. Will there be food on the table at breakfast? Will I be cold when I walk to school? Am I safe in my bed at night? Unverbalized, these questions are answered deep within the child’s developing person. The answer she or he arrives at shapes an entire life of relationship. Brennan Manning spent many years telling of Abba-Daddy: God seeing Himself and trying to get us to see Him as a proud loving father; a father who goes to any length, through any sacrifice to provide all necessities to His dependent children. If recognized, if truly realized, we, the recipients of His loving largesse come to trust Him. Our dependency nurtures trust. In theological terms, this is called “faith.” It is a gift, a free gift, growing, as it does, from the soil of provided and recognized needs met. He tells us, “I provide the rain, showered on those who believe and those who don’t.” Rain being the foundation of an agricultural society’s survival, it is a symbol of the provision of all needs, given without discrimination to all mankind, to all His children. Recognized or not, we are bathed in a sea of His beneficence, His gifts. From conception to death and beyond, if truly recognized, all things are a blessed gift of His gracious love. All events, good or ill, arise from His generous and wise heart. Recognizing Him as Daddy, can I see myself as child, as infant, as fetus? Can I lay aside my distorted view of myself as independent adult and sink back into that time when all was provided without measure, without cost, without reciprocity? American culture in particular is so rooted in the concept of self-sufficiency that we have difficulty accepting any thought of dependence. “God helps those who help themselves,” undergirds our culture, our stories, our politics. But, perhaps, our disastrous relationships with one another and with Daddy, are based in just this: that we see ourselves as independent, autonomous beings-separate and self-sufficient in all things. We try to make Him happy with us by doing, by rule-following. We want to provide for ourselves and our family by the sweat of our brow. Trust and dependence; two sides of the same coin, one growing out of the other and in turn fostering a recognition of the first; an unending Moebius ring of relationship; the cure of all my rebellion; the source of all my joy. 12-24-12