I’m not a conservative, either by nature or by persuasion, and what little there is that Governor Bush actually stands for, I’m pretty much “agin.”
But I did vote for the man … and I hope he wins. This is because, under the current system, I find myself forced to support just about anyone who might stand a decent chance of defeating these rabid pro-abortion zealots the Democrats keep nominating.
Al Gore not only supports abortion, he stumps for abortion. He’s enthusiastic about it. Worse still, he’s a convert to the cause — a man who used to preach about the sanctity of life until he got the nod for the national ticket. Al Gore even supports partial birth abortion — and I’m sorry, but a man who can’t see anything immoral about sucking the brains out of a baby in the very act of being born simply doesn’t know the difference between right and wrong. Governor Bush and I disagree about the proper application of age-old moral standards we both accept. Vice President Gore and I stand on opposite sides of the great divide between civilization and barbarism.
Am I a “single issue voter” then? I readily admit that I am. And I admit that this nullifies most of my effectiveness as a participant in this democracy. I did not, for example, express my true views on gun control in this election. I did not express my true views on capital punishment, on trusts and monopolies, on corporate welfare and environmental stewardship. I was forced to throw my vote away when it came to important matters of immigration policy and education. But make no mistake. I was forced.
And to tell you the truth I’m under no illusions that George W. Bush would actually be able to do anything about abortion … or even that he’s terribly compelled to make the attempt. My vote was almost entirely symbolic. That’s how bad things have gotten. I spent my one precious vote on a man I almost entirely disagree with, and whom everyone admits won’t do much even about the thing we happen to agree on. And there you have it: a democracy almost entirely subverted by this crime against humanity we call abortion.
Yet even true-blue conservatives can be seen wrestling with this problem. One of my Christian Coalition friends, for instance, paid me a visit the other day and the talk turned inevitably to the Florida recount. He began by describing this event in terms downright apocalyptic; democracy itself was at stake, he said, and we were currently witnessing the climactic battle between the forces of good and evil. Ten minutes later however, my companion had taken a different tone and was blithely confessing that Mr. Bush isn’t really much more than the lesser of two evils after all. Finally, by the end of our conversation, it was back to good vs. evil again — with my friend failing to note the slightest hint of inconsistency. Chalk up another one to the crime of abortion; an evil so enormous that even the most half-hearted opposition to it can seem heroic by sheer contrast.
Yet let’s say, just for the sake of argument, that Mr. Bush surprises us all. Let’s suppose that he does get into office, and that he does succeed in influencing the laws in some small pro-life way. Let’s say, for instance, that he manages to get a new pro-life justice onto the Supreme Court, and that this justice tips the margin of the court against Roe vs. Wade. (Never mind that this seldom works — that his father’s attempt to do this gave us the indefatigable pro-abort David Souter). Will George W. Bush then have triumphed over the Culture of Death? Will good have overcome evil at last, through skillful politics and shrewd legal maneuvering?
Most of us wouldn’t think so. The Culture of Death has deeper roots than that — roots in history and in individual human hearts. Historically speaking, it’s a return to the paganism from which our civilization was redeemed. The ancient Romans thought about abortion the way we do today. They practiced it vigorously, along with the birth control, divorce and free love we have already mainstreamed, along with the infanticide which is next on our to-do list. And Rome was supreme for a thousand years, and never once buckled in her tireless libertarianism towards such things.
What finally changed the Roman Empire? What finally established a Culture of Life for Western Civilization? Well, it wasn’t laws and it wasn’t elections. A Church did it — and not just any Church. Rome was conquered by a Church alive, unified, healthy, faithful and Spirit-filled. She was converted by a Church willing to spend whole lives in seemingly fruitless prayer, willing to spill whole oceans of her own blood as fertilizer. And for my money, that’s the only antidote capable of doing the job today. Anything else is a cheap, two-bit short cut. “Not by might, nor by power, but by my Spirit, saith the Lord of hosts.” (Zech 4:6).
Please don’t misunderstand me. To have pro-life justices on the Supreme Court would undoubtedly be a good thing. And so long as the pagans continue to allow us a vote we must undoubtedly strive to use that vote for good. But let’s not harbor any illusions. All of this (in the words of the fine old proverb) really is “closing the barn door after the cow has gone.”
It may well be worth doing, of course. The barn might still have some chickens in it, or some tools that we wouldn’t want to see taken while we’re out searching for the cow. But the cow really is gone. And even if she comes back, we won’t be able to keep her until we fix the thing that allowed her to get loose in the first place.
So, yes … let’s take a keen interest in what happens in Florida this week. And then let’s get back to work on rebuilding the Church.
