Hope in a Polarized World

It has been a rough few weeks for the American dream.

Although we just celebrated the 240th anniversary of America’s independence, the last month especially has brought blow after crushing blow to life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness in what was once hailed as the “land of the free and the home of the brave.”

Oh, we still are comparatively free, and we do have countless brave individuals, but the bravery that is most lauded now is not the bravery that involves standing up for the rights of others. No, today’s bravery involves standing up for our own rights or for a certain demographic of individuals — and that inevitably means that liberty will be systematically stripped from other demographics.

It’s not that we don’t think of specific people in connection to a cause, but bravery is increasingly defined as just standing up for a cause — not even people, but a cause. Hence, there are movements to stand up for women’s rights, for LGBT rights, for safe spaces, for anti-hate speech, for change, for Black Lives Matter, etc.

This is also one of the reasons why America is so polarized politically. At some point, we began to define ourselves by an ever-changing political party instead of by the principles we have and always will fight for — and the parties are moving as far apart as possible and as fast as possible.

I went to both the Democratic and the Republican caucuses for Uinta County this year, and at the Democratic caucus, I heard it put in plain words that, over the last few years, the Democratic party has separated itself more and more from the Republican party. It was said in a positive manner, but the more I reflect on the statement, the more I realize this polarization is a divorce of the ugliest degree.

It used to be that people from different parties could more amicably agree with many of the other party’s principles, I think. But we now see a world in which people from different parties are often foundationally split. We don’t usually have enough in common anymore to have a reasonable discussion about the things that most matter to us.

The definition by broad categories like political parties and causes, then, truly tends to separate us.

As I wrote in another column in October, part of the problem is that it is easy to pick and choose things and people to support and love.

And more and more often in past days and weeks, I’m seeing prioritization. There are preferred groups, preferred people, preferred causes. The groups and people and causes that don’t fit into those preferred categories are cast by the wayside and sometimes even trampled underfoot. They lose respect, their jobs — and sometimes even their lives, as we saw last week with the deaths of Philando Castile and Alton Sterling and police officers Brent Thompson, Patrick Zamarripa, Michael Krol, Lorne Ahrens and Michael Smith.

These people have been defined by the color of their skin or by the color of their uniforms. We are pitted against each other for various reasons, none of which are truly necessary.

This prioritization occurs at many levels. We have seen conflicts between people of different races; between people of different faiths; between people of different professions; and even between mothers and unborn children.

As I reflect on the value of life after seeing so much death and tragedy in the news, I can’t help but remember that the lives of the most vulnerable and defenseless among  us are still under attack every day. Even as people are killed in the line of duty or when doing nothing to provoke anyone at all — and as people rise  up, shouting for the protection of their lives and rights — those even at the highest level of the law, such as the Supreme Court, condone the destruction of families and lives at the most domestic level.

We have seen this in last week’s ruling against basic standards of healthcare in abortion clinics in “Whole Women’s Health v. Hellerstedt,” in which the court-instituted right to abortion trumps the safety both of the woman and her child.

Texas had instituted laws that would apply basic standards of healthcare to abortion clinics. Requirements included that an abortion doctor must have active admitting privileges at a nearby hospital that can provide obstetrical or gynelogical healthcare and that the abortion facility’s minimum standards must be equal to those for ambulatory surgical centers. (Further information can be found online by searching for Texas H.B. No. 2 from 2013.)

As a result of these requirements, several abortion clinics shut down voluntarily in Texas. When the bill was brought to the Supreme Court, the majority of the justices determined that the two main provisions were unconstitutional because they placed an undue burden on abortion access.

Again, these requirements are no more stringent than those placed on other doctors — and abortion is a serious surgical procedure. It may be an elective surgery, but it has been known to cause scarring, infection, perforation of the uterus, damage to organs and even death. That doesn’t even touch the psychological effects, either. There are, in fact, numerous support groups for post-abortive women, as well as for post-abortive family members and for ex-abortion providers.

When a state establishes basic standards of healthcare, and abortion clinics shut down as a result, that should tell us more about the quality of such “medical providers” than anything. Likewise, when the Supreme Court rules in favor of abortion for the sake of abortion and not for the health and safety of those seeking medical care, we are ruled by people who fight for causes rather than people  — who say that access to safe healthcare is secondary to easy abortion access.

What happened to “safe, legal and rare?”

It was overruled years ago, perhaps, but this most recent Supreme Court ruling has now officially overruled it.

Furthermore, one of the things that most breaks my heart about the pro-choice/pro-life conflict is that I believe to be pro-life really means to fight for the lives and wellbeing of all — yet it is always painted as a black and white situation in which we must fight for the rights either of the mother or of the child.

Kind of like black and blue — which one takes precedence? Is it Black Lives Matter, or is it Blue Lives Matter?

Why can’t we love them both?  Why aren’t their needs the same? Why must one’s life be sacrificed to the life of the other?

Mothers should never have to be pitted against their children, born or unborn, just as the lives of law enforcement officials should not be weighed against the lives of law-abiding civilians.

And when the Supreme Court rules to protect the right to abortion — even when abortion clinics don’t even adhere to basic health standards, such as sterilization, proper training, parental notification laws in the case of minors or physicians’ admitting privileges to nearby hospitals — there is a problem. When the leaders of our country publicly take sides in the matter of black versus blue, or black versus white, there is a problem. The fight has moved even from the prioritization of one group over another to the elevation of a cause over the people involved.

What can be done to mend this? Well, there is currently an #alllivesmatter movement — but that, too, has come under fire because it may marginalize those who are oppressed. And that is, in and of itself, still hashtag activism.

When the world is falling apart, Facebook and Twitter can’t fix it. Rage and righteous wrath cannot fix it. Hand-wringing sympathy cannot fix it.

Only Love can.

And Love takes the form of a man who willingly put himself in front of the guns and violence and hatred of the world — of the governor, of the President, of the law enforcement, of the broken church, of the wrathful people.

Love takes the form of a man who suffered and died out of love for those who killed him, although he was almost universally despised when he wasn’t outright ignored.

He did not unleash obscenities and hatred in revenge for his tormentors’ unjust actions; he did not incite violence in his followers; he did not blast his tormentors with fire and destruction; he did not even try to save himself.

Love takes the form of an innocent man unjustly and horribly executed who, after three days, rose again to show that even death is not permanent and that we do not have to lose ourselves to fear and hatred.

There is only one haven in which we can take refuge from the bloodbath that we see approaching to flood our very streets: the church where this man, fully man and fully God, gives His Body and His Blood to those who killed him so that they might live for eternity.