Why I Won’t Tell You my Opinion of Roe v Wade
She asked me, “What do you think about the overturn of Roe v Wade?
“It’s complicated,” I said.
She struck back immediately, “That’s a convenient copout.”
“I can see why you would feel that way.” I replied.
She quickly came back, “Well, it’s not that hard for me to form an opinion on an issue where the right answer is so obvious.”
I decided to venture further into the conversation, “Let me see if I can describe where I stand.”
“I’m a pastor by training and education. I spent 18 years in a vocation where I was paid to watch over the wellbeing of others. But more importantly, firmly woven into my DNA is the reflexive intention to provide meaningful care and counsel for people, regardless of their political, sexual or social beliefs. It’s more important for me to learn what you think and believe rather than using my view as a starting point. It’s not like I don’t have an opinion. I just don’t like telling the world what I think because it might jeopardize my opportunity to care for your heart.”
I continued.
“I’m a writer and a communicator. Therefore it’s my job to communicate. It’s not your job to figure out what I am trying to say. If you don’t understand, I will use different words. This is why my first line of communication is to establish a connection. And my primary way of doing that is to ask questions. To begin the dialogue by proclaiming my opinion could shut down the conversation immediately. And my hope of communicating is gone.
Here’s what I mean.
I’m called to provide care and listen to the woman who had an abortion when she was 17. Her mother demanded she do so and she has lived with the regret of it to this day.
This same woman has a 17-year old daughter that had unprotected sex during a Spring Break trip to South Padre Island. The teenager was told by her parents not to go but she went anyway. She ended up getting pregnant and now wants to get an abortion. Her mother is adamantly against it. The rift is deep and the daughter swears to never talk to her mom again.
I’m called to provide care and listen to the woman who discovered she was pregnant in her late 40’s. She’s afraid the pregnancy will threaten her life, as she nearly died during her first pregnancy at age 23. She spent 4 months in the hospital after delivery from the complications. She lost her son after four weeks in ICU and the thought of going through that again in her later years is still traumatic and painful.
I’m also called to provide care and listen to the mother who thought she was done having kids by stopping at a boy and a girl. Discovering her third pregnancy is deeply devastating and her husband is threatening to leave her if she doesn’t abort.
I’m called to provide care and listen to the woman who got pregnant during an affair because the condom broke.
I’m called to provide care and listen to the woman who is HIV positive and pregnant. She wants to keep the baby, but carries deep shame that her child will suffer because of her past choices.
I’m called to provide care and listen to the woman who can’t get pregnant and wants more than anything to adopt the child of a pregnant teenage girl she met one morning at the coffee shop that was alone and afraid and on her way to the clinic to get an abortion. The young girl is conflicted and afraid that the system won’t allow her permission to give the baby to the woman who has been praying for years to become a mother.
In each of these situations, my opinion on a legal case doesn’t matter. So I don’t lead with it.
None of these decisions are mine. But all of these women are in need of care. And a law won’t change the dilemma of their circumstance.
This is what makes Roe v Wade a complicated issue in my mind. None of these scenarios are black and white, as much as I would like them to be. My first concern is to help these women feel heard and understood, not for me to tell them what I think and what to do.
My problem is I live amid a sound byte culture, and this includes sound byte theology. To answer for my Creator in 144 characters falls way short of the expanse of wisdom. And solutions to matters like Roe v Wade are too important to be expressed in a tweet. They require a conversation and a connection with someone who will care for them as a human being, not as an anonymous constituent.
So I told my friend, “A law is not a panacea. And regardless of what I think about a particular law, I will always be first called to care for the individual right in front of me.”
