Item: The
Democratic Party strongly and unequivocally supports Roe v. Wade and a woman’s
right to make decisions regarding her pregnancy, including a safe and legal
abortion, regardless of ability to pay. We oppose any and all efforts to weaken
or undermine that right. Abortion is an intensely personal decision between a
woman, her family, her doctor, and her clergy; there is no place for
politicians or government to get in the way.
(excerpt from the Platform of the Democratic
Party, 2012)
Slaughtering the Healers
"It is
the little ones who heal us," said Father Leonard, completely out of the
blue. I had been confessing some
now-forgotten sin, and out came this treasure from the storeroom of his heart.
It came to
me some days later that the face of God must have something in it of the face
of a child. This would explain why Jesus
said, "In heaven their angels always behold the face of my Father who is
in heaven." (Matt. 18.10) That is,
the faces of the angels' appointed little ones, untainted as yet by actual sin,
are so many little faces of God.
When the
Pharisees asked Jesus why He hung around with the likes of us, He answered,
"Those who are well have no need of a physician, but those who are
sick." (Lk 5:31) In those days
people understood the pricelessness of each human life, and thus the infinite
value of healing. How appalled they
would have been to breathe the putrid ambiance of our brave new world where
'freedom of choice' means the wholesale murdering of babies in their mothers’
wombs, and even—horror unspeakable—the slaughtering of babies while they are
being born, murdered by the very ‘physicians’ who should be delivering those
newborn healers into their mothers’ loving arms. How infuriated our forebears would have been
by the hissing sound of those three slithery words—‘Freedom of Choice’—that
deny both freedom and choice to the little boys and girls being butchered by
so-called physicians. And how it must
wrench the guardian angels to see their own tiny, Godlike charges torn out of
the womb with steel pincers piece by piece, limb by limb, tiny hands and feet
and torso, and, most wrenching of all, the tiny bleeding head with its tortured
face of God frozen in eternal agony. How
bitterly the guardians must weep to see us slaughter their helpless little
ones, those tiny healers, as if infanticide really were the merest expression
of 'reproductive rights'.
If only we
could hear the angels gasp, or feel the rain of tears they shower over every
butchered child, but perhaps we are too far gone, too 'experienced', too
hardened of heart: perhaps our calluses
are long since grown too thick for us to hear or feel such holy pain. We are so desperately in need of love, of
innocence, of healing.
How very sick indeed our world will be when
we have finally slaughtered all the little ones.
