Authors: James Dobson
Julia examined
each of the vaguely familiar faces around her listening to their pastor read. Apart from her husband and Alex she didn't know anyone's name. A relative newcomer to the church, Julia hadn't given much thought to which of her fellow worshippers served on the board of directors.
The meeting was already under way by the time she and Troy arrived. Pastor Alex skipped formal introductions. Julia nodded briefly at the collection of welcoming grins, her only connection to the individuals who would decide whether “An Open Letter to Our Elected Officials” would see the light of day. It read:
An Open Letter to Our Elected Officials:
We, the undersigned, wish to express our gratitude for your service to this nation. You play a crucial role in the God-ordained institution of government and we pray that you will be given strength for the task and wisdom for the challenges that lie ahead. As members of the clergy from a variety of religious traditions we, like you, seek to ease the suffering of hurting people and to nurture health in an ailing society. The Hebrew Scriptures state that when the righteous rule, the people rejoice. As spokesmen and spokeswomen for many of the people under your authority, we pledge our support and assistance in your effort to do what's right for this great nation. Toward that end we feel compelled to bring to your attention a growing concern over how some of the policies enacted in recent years are affecting the communities we serve.
First, difficult economic times have accelerated the already alarming decline in birthrates, further strangling off the only trickle of life capable of nourishing a rich garden of human thriving. All of our religious traditions uphold the beauty and priority of parenthood. And, despite the technological, social, and political pressures that make it increasingly difficult to do so, the most devout among us make the sacrifices necessary to bear and rear a new generation. We consider these families to be bright spots in an ever-darkening society. Will you join us in the effort to encourage and support those willing and able to shine the light of hope that radiates from the face of every newborn child?
Our second concern is directly related to the first. A shrinking pool of natural families has created an equally pressing crisis on the other end of the demographic continuum. Too few young and healthy bear the burden of a rapidly aging population. This state of affairs has created an economic strain on the entire society. Cultural elites derisively label the weak and vulnerable “debits” unworthy of life. The younger generation has come to resent rather than honor the old. But all of our faith traditions consider every human being worthy of dignity and protection, including those with graying hair and waning memories. Will you join us in the effort to defend the dignity of the aging and disabled among us?
“I'm sorry to interrupt,” said the man wearing an agitated frown. “Would you read that last line again?”
The pastor paused and looked up from the document. “Of course,” he replied while shifting nervously in his chair. “It says, âWill you join us in the effort to defend the dignity of the aging and disabled among us?'”
The gentleman shot a glance toward a fellow skeptic, then back in Pastor Alex's direction. “What, may I ask, do you mean by
defend their dignity
?”
“I'd be happy to answer that,” interjected Troy, prompting Alex to breathe a sigh of relief. “I'm not sure how much you know about the Youth Initiative, Mr.â?”
“Crawford. Phil Crawford.”
“Pleased to meet you, sir,” said Troy warmly. “You see, there's been an increasingly overt effort to pressure our older citizens to kill themselves.”
The man winced. “Volunteer,” he said as if correcting a mischaracterization.
“Right,” Troy said, missing or ignoring the intimation. “Something those of us in this room know to be wrong.”
“Not so fast,” said another man. “We can't assume every member of Christ Community Church views transitions as immoral in all circumstances.”
“I didn't say every member of Christ Community, I said those of us in this room.” A brief silence while Troy scanned the faces around the table. Julia sensed her husband gauging reactions the way he did when sitting in on one of Kevin's presentations.
“Hang on just a second,” Phil Crawford said, his neck turning red. Not because he was embarrassed, Julia realized, but because he was angry.
“Now, Phil,” the pastor interjected in an apparent effort to quell an eruption, “why don't you let Mr. Simmons finish his explanation of the strategy before we discuss any concerns?”
The man ignored his pastor's comment. “Not everyone in this room agrees with your assumption, Mr. Simmons.”
Julia noticed a glimmer in her husband's eye. He had smoked out the pastor's chief nemesis.
“I see,” said Troy. “Please explain.”
“There are a good number of people attending this church with loved ones who have volunteered. How do you think it would make them feel if their pastor was to sign a letter like this? Worse, if they found out their pastor wrote it?”
Troy took a moment to consider the question. “Well, I would hope they'd be proud of him for having the moral fortitude toâ”
“Condemned,” Phil interrupted. “They would feel judged and condemned, Mr. Simmons.”
“Perhaps,” Troy said calmly. “But I imagine they would also feel relieved.”
The comment appeared to surprise the pastor. “Why relieved?” he asked.
“Well, if what you've taught us about the moral law is true, then every human being has an intuitive knowledge of right and wrong,” said Troy. “So that must mean a whole lot of our people carry an unspoken guilt over a parent's transition they either encouraged or affirmed through silence. Wouldn't it be a relief to hear you diagnose their symptoms? To realize that the lingering remorse they feel is more than normal grieving? It's the shrapnel of a lie believed and acted upon.”
“What lie?” asked the second skeptic.
“The lie that suicide is some kind of noble act. The lie that it's better to send spoiled kids to an elite university than to honor one's father and mother. And the lie that we can choose our own expiration date rather than accept every moment of life as a precious gift from God.”
All eyes turned from Troy to Phil, seated at the opposite end of the table. Guns had been drawn. A showdown was about to begin.
“Hold it right there,” Phil said with a halting gesture. “There's no need to get on a soapbox. I'm sure we all agree that life is a gift.”
Do they
? Julia wondered.
“And none of us like the transition industry per se. But this isn't about what's moral and what's immoral. It's about roles.”
Troy appeared confused. “I don't follow. What do you mean by roles?”
“It's not our place as a board to tell Pastor Alex how to vote. He's perfectly free to support whatever candidate or public referendum he likes, just like the rest of us. But when he decides to speak or write as the pastor of Christ Community Church, we do have a say in that.”
“Which is why I asked Mr. and Mrs. Simmons to join us this evening,” said Alex. “I wanted to consult the board before taking any further steps.”
Phil half nodded at the pastor's comment. “And it's a good thing you did,” he said threateningly.
“So you mean it isn't Pastor Alex's role to speak or write on behalf of the church?” asked Troy.
“When it comes to something this divisive, absolutely not.”
“Divisive? You consider affirming Christian beliefs on family and human dignity divisive?”
The second skeptic drew his weapon. “Like I started to say earlier, not everyone at Christ Community believes transitions are always wrong.”
“But they are always wrong,” Julia heard herself say. She looked at her husband before continuing. “I know what it is to blindly support the popular lies of our generation. I was one of the public voices cheering the Youth Initiative when President Lowman introduced the idea. I would use derisive terms like
debits
without a second thought. I even parroted all of the common arguments about wasting public funds keeping half-comatose seniors on a life-support machine. Two years ago the letter Pastor Alex wrote would have insulted me. But I would have been wrong.”
“What changed your mind?” asked a woman two seats to Julia's left.
“To be honest, I'm not sure,” she said while reaching for her husband's hand. “But I suppose part of it had to do with confronting the reality of what's going on. I met a young man named Jeremy Santos who let me read a journal written by his teenage brother, Antonio, a person I used to call a debit because he cost society more than he could possibly produce. But Antonio wasn't a half-comatose vegetable with a feeding tube. He was a bright, articulate kid who loved robotics and art and food. He also loved his mother and his brother.” She paused. “And they loved him.”
Julia's voice cracked as a swell of emotion overtook her composure. The moment surprised her. It had been nearly two years since she had read Antonio's journals. Why did they still prompt such raw emotion?
“I'm sorry,” she continued after receiving a tissue from one of the other ladies. “But I'm one of the people who helped throw that young man onto the bonfire of human dignity. I helped make him hate his own life. I wrote well-crafted columns shoveling mindless rhetoric that made him feel guilty every time he took another breath.”
The room fell momentarily silent as the group absorbed Julia's regret.
Phil cleared his throat awkwardly. “Well, I'm sure we all appreciate Mrs. Simmons's feelings,” he began, “but we're not discussing whether transitions are good or bad. We're discussing whether it's a minister's role to get involved in politics.
Our
minister's role, to be specific.” He looked at Alex. “With all of the problems already on your plate, why would you want to take on yet another distraction?”
“Because I don't consider it a distraction,” the pastor replied. “I consider it an obligation.”
“To whom?” Phil asked, pointing at Troy. “Him? No offense to Mr. Simmons, I'm sure he's a great guy, but why would you put the church at risk just because a random member asked you to do some politician a favor?”
“Because some of us think it would be a good idea,” a hesitant voice answered. Julia looked for the source: a young man seated to Troy's right. “Hello, Mr. and Mrs. Simmons.” He nodded in the couple's direction. “My name is Brandon Baxter. I'm the newest member of the board, so I'm not sure how much my opinion matters”âhe looked back toward the other attendeesâ“but I like the idea.”
Phil glared in the young man's direction like a third-grade bully suddenly challenged by a first-grade twerp. “You can't be serious,” he snapped. “I can name at least a dozen members of this congregation who've listed Christ Community as a primary beneficiary to their transition inheritance. If Alex sends thatâ¦thatâ¦declaration, some of them might find out. I mean, this thing could get picked up by the news, for Pete's sake. What if that happened?”
“Actually,” said Troy, “that's exactly what we hope will happen. The government is getting ready to launch a huge marketing effort to encourage more transitions. We can't compete with that. But we can create enough of a stir to get the attention of the press. Who knows, with a little help from some old friends”âhe winked in Julia's directionâ“we might get a few million fellow religious types to join the cause.”
Phil's eyes turned to saucers. “You plan to release the document to the press?”
“If there's one thing I learned during my time in Washington,” answered Troy, “it's that politicians only respond to one thing: public pressure.”
The second skeptic spoke up. “I'm with Phil,” he said. “I mean, it's bad enough you want our pastor to send a letter to politicians, but going to the press is crossing the line.”
“What line?” asked Troy. “Can you be specific? Exactly what line does it cross?”
“The separation of church and state, for one.”
“Oh, really.”
“Yes, really!” snapped Phil.
“So you think a letter from a group of religious leaders affirming the value of parenthood and the dignity of the elderly will establish a state religion?”
“Don't be ridiculous. I didn't say that.”
“You said this letter crosses the line separating church and state. Read the Constitution. That refers to Congress establishing a state religion, not religion holding the state accountable.”
“I just mean that the letter feels wrong. The Church shouldn't meddle in state affairs.”
“So the abolitionists were out of line?”
Silence.
“And the civil rights leaders? They should have kept their big mouths shut. Is that right?”
“I never saidâ”
“Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. was, I believe, the pastor of a church,” Troy continued. “Or am I mistaken?”
Phil appeared flustered by the line of questioning. “I don't mean it would be illegal for Alex to send the letter. Just unwise.”
“Because it upholds Christian ideals?”
“Yesâ¦erâ¦no.”
“Perhaps because it might make people angry?”
“In a way, yeah,” said Phil. “I mean, why create unnecessary obstacles to reaching people?”
“We didn't create the obstacle. The Youth Initiative did. We're just responding by clarifying a Christian belief that killing the weak and elderly is wrong.”
“Not our job!” said the second skeptic. “Our job is to shine a light, not scream at the darkness.”
The verbal joust continued for several more minutes until Alex interrupted by leaning forward in his chair and raising a single hand that halted the debate.