November 15, 2012 - Today would probably be a good comic to write that long post about the economic realities of abortion as well as emphasizing the differences between the clinic depicted in the comic and Planned Parenthood and other organizations. But Emily pointed out the growing abortion debate going on in Ireland, and I figured I should probably talk about that instead.
This is hardly the first time politics has impeded a woman's access to healthcare causing her death in addition to a pregnancy that was already dying. Back in August a teenager was denied chemotherapy because she was pregnant in the Dominican Republic. This is hardly the first incident and it won't be the last, but it's certainly recent and therefore worth mentioning in tandem with my own reaction towards it and how I balance my own faith with my feelings towards abortion.
I was born Catholic, and as can be gleaned from my surname, I'm of predominantly Irish heritage (despite the surname, I'm actually more Irish than my father as my mother is 100% Irish and my father is not) which ties in nicely to the current events motivating this post. I actually really like my faith and what I believe it stands for; my relationship with the church is another story entirely.
At this point I only go to church on Easter and Christmas, and that's entirely due to my parents' insistence to attend the ceremony with them. I really don't wish to argue my preference not to go with my parents, and though I did refuse Communion at some points, I largely felt it was an empty gesture so I continue to be an Easter/Christmas Catholic. When I was younger I went every Sunday, and though I had interest in becoming an altar server, I never became one because I quickly realized that all it meant was extra responsibility on weekends which absolutely did not appeal to me at that age (keep in mind this was before most of the sexual abuse allegations broke, and though they directly correlated to my parents' decreased involvement in the church, I lost my belief in the church slightly before the spread of the allegations and they're only particularly interesting to me in terms of pointing out the hypocrisy of the institution). I liked church as a model for community and as an educational resource to teach my young nascent self how to behave in society. But as I grew older cracks became more readily apparent in how the church represented society at large.
The first obvious crack to me was the transition from altar servers being all male to being both male and female. Superficially this represented a more progressive view of women's increased role in society, and yet this extension of representation only presented itself amongst the lower levels of church involvement and not amongst the church's leaders, such as allowing for female priests or bishops. Despite larger society's justifiable insistence that men and women should be treated equally and allowed the same opportunities, the church refused this right to women. I wanted to believe the church was a place of acceptance and inclusion and yet this basic denial of one gender's access to higher positions within the institution indicated that my opinion of what the church should be did not reflect what the church actually was.
This further complicated itself once I became aware of my sexuality and the sexuality of others. Romantic attraction and the idea of sex as a biological impulse rather than a means of procreation stopped being theoretical ideas and became an inherent aspect of my identity. As simple as church doctrines seemed to advocate largely ignoring these aspects of my personality by seemingly treating women as objects rather than people or insisting that sex be reserved only with the intention of procreation, I couldn't ignore that despite the theory behind why these beliefs held true, it wasn't how I naturally felt about myself. I also imagined that others experienced their sexual identities in a similar manner.
Suddenly, the church stopped being inclusive and became exclusive. Was I supposed to repress any form of sexuality? How was I suppose to react to others who were less inhibited?
From here I'm not quite sure what happened. I've always admired people who are open with their sexuality. I decidedly am not (and I'm sure stating this here in this fashion will make people leap to all sorts of largely inaccurate conclusions, I don't really mind the theorizing about it, it's not something I'm ashamed of, nor do I think there are many forms of sexuality to be ashamed of, but I personally believe it's not anyone's business but my own). And I looked at people in the media and in my own life who had definitions of their own sexuality that deviated from the narrow view of the church and they appeared happy despite what the church said they should do.
Regardless of what the church does for me (or more importantly what my faith does for me). I can't support an institution that would try to deny happiness to others on such a massive scale, and ultimately this schism between the ideology of the church and the reality of society pushed me away from rigidly following its teachings.
This all said, I still prefer to believe in the divinity of Jesus Christ. I think parts of the Bible are a great resource on how to conduct oneself in society. But I also acknowledge that much of the meaning of Jesus' teachings has been lost over time and in translation.
The Bible is written on paper not in stone. It contradicts itself when it comes to Jesus' genealogy and with minor details of his resurrection and other events. It advocates administering justice both by punishing an eye for an eye and by turning the other cheek. It even condones slavery, an idea modern society finds abhorrent. And all of this can be found by simply reading the Bible without consulting outside sources that have brought into question Jesus' marital status as well as his mother's supposed virginity.
I'm actually far less versed in the Bible than the previous paragraph describes, but I think it emphasizes that most interpretations of its meaning are based on selective emphasis of specific passages. At no point does it even mention abortion, and it only mentions the idea that life begins at conception in specific instances wherein the mother was predestined to give birth. Does someone who is pro-life actually know God's will regarding every pregnancy? To me this teeters dangerously close to heresy, but of larger concern is one of the parables upon which I place selective significance.
This is the story of the Good Samaritan. It's about a Jewish traveler who is beaten and robbed before being left on the road to die. Both a Priest and Levite, who would stereotypically be accepting to a Jewish man, ignore the traveler's agony, but a Samaritan, who would stereotypically be unaccepting to one practicing Judaism, helps the traveler without prejudice. The interpretation of this parable is much debated, but I like to believe it means doing what is right despite religious beliefs and not make too much of a deal about such beliefs. For indeed neither the Jew or the Samaritan attempt to convert the other to a particular doctrine.
And all this brings us back to Ireland, and what seems to me to be a pretty obvious case of being able to do what was right and being halted by religion instead of doing what was right in spite of it. Too often the pro-life movement seems to confuse itself with the anti-abortion movement. Did this poor woman not have the right to live? What about other women who find themselves pregnant and risk severe quality of life issues? What do you do for them rather than criticize one of the potential decisions they may make? How is that accepting of society rather than narrow-minded?
I realize Mother Theresa was a huge pro-life supporter. As a nun and never becoming pregnant herself, I'm not sure she realized the medical difficulties pregnancy represented. But a big part of her belief in the pro-life movement was the knowledge that she'd be willing to provide any and every unwanted child a home. Can other pro-life advocates argue the same? Are they truly pro-life or simply anti-abortion? Regardless of your belief I would now like to close with a quote from Mother Theresa regarding the Vietnam war and let you evaluate it yourself in how it may also relate to the war against a woman's right to choose: "If you have a march against the war, sorry [I will not join you]. But, if you have a march for peace, I will lead."
-D
This is hardly the first time politics has impeded a woman's access to healthcare causing her death in addition to a pregnancy that was already dying. Back in August a teenager was denied chemotherapy because she was pregnant in the Dominican Republic. This is hardly the first incident and it won't be the last, but it's certainly recent and therefore worth mentioning in tandem with my own reaction towards it and how I balance my own faith with my feelings towards abortion.
I was born Catholic, and as can be gleaned from my surname, I'm of predominantly Irish heritage (despite the surname, I'm actually more Irish than my father as my mother is 100% Irish and my father is not) which ties in nicely to the current events motivating this post. I actually really like my faith and what I believe it stands for; my relationship with the church is another story entirely.
At this point I only go to church on Easter and Christmas, and that's entirely due to my parents' insistence to attend the ceremony with them. I really don't wish to argue my preference not to go with my parents, and though I did refuse Communion at some points, I largely felt it was an empty gesture so I continue to be an Easter/Christmas Catholic. When I was younger I went every Sunday, and though I had interest in becoming an altar server, I never became one because I quickly realized that all it meant was extra responsibility on weekends which absolutely did not appeal to me at that age (keep in mind this was before most of the sexual abuse allegations broke, and though they directly correlated to my parents' decreased involvement in the church, I lost my belief in the church slightly before the spread of the allegations and they're only particularly interesting to me in terms of pointing out the hypocrisy of the institution). I liked church as a model for community and as an educational resource to teach my young nascent self how to behave in society. But as I grew older cracks became more readily apparent in how the church represented society at large.
The first obvious crack to me was the transition from altar servers being all male to being both male and female. Superficially this represented a more progressive view of women's increased role in society, and yet this extension of representation only presented itself amongst the lower levels of church involvement and not amongst the church's leaders, such as allowing for female priests or bishops. Despite larger society's justifiable insistence that men and women should be treated equally and allowed the same opportunities, the church refused this right to women. I wanted to believe the church was a place of acceptance and inclusion and yet this basic denial of one gender's access to higher positions within the institution indicated that my opinion of what the church should be did not reflect what the church actually was.
This further complicated itself once I became aware of my sexuality and the sexuality of others. Romantic attraction and the idea of sex as a biological impulse rather than a means of procreation stopped being theoretical ideas and became an inherent aspect of my identity. As simple as church doctrines seemed to advocate largely ignoring these aspects of my personality by seemingly treating women as objects rather than people or insisting that sex be reserved only with the intention of procreation, I couldn't ignore that despite the theory behind why these beliefs held true, it wasn't how I naturally felt about myself. I also imagined that others experienced their sexual identities in a similar manner.
Suddenly, the church stopped being inclusive and became exclusive. Was I supposed to repress any form of sexuality? How was I suppose to react to others who were less inhibited?
From here I'm not quite sure what happened. I've always admired people who are open with their sexuality. I decidedly am not (and I'm sure stating this here in this fashion will make people leap to all sorts of largely inaccurate conclusions, I don't really mind the theorizing about it, it's not something I'm ashamed of, nor do I think there are many forms of sexuality to be ashamed of, but I personally believe it's not anyone's business but my own). And I looked at people in the media and in my own life who had definitions of their own sexuality that deviated from the narrow view of the church and they appeared happy despite what the church said they should do.
Regardless of what the church does for me (or more importantly what my faith does for me). I can't support an institution that would try to deny happiness to others on such a massive scale, and ultimately this schism between the ideology of the church and the reality of society pushed me away from rigidly following its teachings.
This all said, I still prefer to believe in the divinity of Jesus Christ. I think parts of the Bible are a great resource on how to conduct oneself in society. But I also acknowledge that much of the meaning of Jesus' teachings has been lost over time and in translation.
The Bible is written on paper not in stone. It contradicts itself when it comes to Jesus' genealogy and with minor details of his resurrection and other events. It advocates administering justice both by punishing an eye for an eye and by turning the other cheek. It even condones slavery, an idea modern society finds abhorrent. And all of this can be found by simply reading the Bible without consulting outside sources that have brought into question Jesus' marital status as well as his mother's supposed virginity.
I'm actually far less versed in the Bible than the previous paragraph describes, but I think it emphasizes that most interpretations of its meaning are based on selective emphasis of specific passages. At no point does it even mention abortion, and it only mentions the idea that life begins at conception in specific instances wherein the mother was predestined to give birth. Does someone who is pro-life actually know God's will regarding every pregnancy? To me this teeters dangerously close to heresy, but of larger concern is one of the parables upon which I place selective significance.
This is the story of the Good Samaritan. It's about a Jewish traveler who is beaten and robbed before being left on the road to die. Both a Priest and Levite, who would stereotypically be accepting to a Jewish man, ignore the traveler's agony, but a Samaritan, who would stereotypically be unaccepting to one practicing Judaism, helps the traveler without prejudice. The interpretation of this parable is much debated, but I like to believe it means doing what is right despite religious beliefs and not make too much of a deal about such beliefs. For indeed neither the Jew or the Samaritan attempt to convert the other to a particular doctrine.
And all this brings us back to Ireland, and what seems to me to be a pretty obvious case of being able to do what was right and being halted by religion instead of doing what was right in spite of it. Too often the pro-life movement seems to confuse itself with the anti-abortion movement. Did this poor woman not have the right to live? What about other women who find themselves pregnant and risk severe quality of life issues? What do you do for them rather than criticize one of the potential decisions they may make? How is that accepting of society rather than narrow-minded?
I realize Mother Theresa was a huge pro-life supporter. As a nun and never becoming pregnant herself, I'm not sure she realized the medical difficulties pregnancy represented. But a big part of her belief in the pro-life movement was the knowledge that she'd be willing to provide any and every unwanted child a home. Can other pro-life advocates argue the same? Are they truly pro-life or simply anti-abortion? Regardless of your belief I would now like to close with a quote from Mother Theresa regarding the Vietnam war and let you evaluate it yourself in how it may also relate to the war against a woman's right to choose: "If you have a march against the war, sorry [I will not join you]. But, if you have a march for peace, I will lead."
-D
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