Toward a Consistent Ethic of
Life in Peace Tradition Perspective:
A Critical-Constructive Response to the MC USA Statement on Abortion*
Posted on the web with permission of
the Mennonite Quarterly Review,
which will publish this article in a forthcoming issue.
John D. Roth, editor of the journal invites responses, possibly for
publication. Write to Dr. Roth at mqr@goshen.edu.
1. Introduction
This paper responds
critically to several issues raised, implicitly and explicitly, in the
Mennonite Church (MC) USA Statement on Abortion passed at the Atlanta 2003
church assembly and works constructively toward a ‘consistent ethic of life’
from a peace tradition perspective.[1] The overarching aim is to help Mennonites, as
well as other peace church tradition and nonviolence-minded Christians, to
think clearly and consistently about abortion
in connection to other life and peace issues, especially capital punishment and
war. In this, my desire is to help equip
the church for fulfilling the mission to which the MC USA Statement calls us
(158-160): “We will promote consistency in favor of human life along the entire
spectrum of human existence. We stand in
opposition to sacrifice of life in the womb, in the death chamber and through
war in all its forms.”[2] While this call to a consistent ethic of life
points the church in the right direction, and although there is much of value
in the MC USA Statement, there are a number of instances of ambiguity and
inconsistency that must be addressed.
This matter of a consistent
ethic is significant, I think, for three reasons. First, on the historical front, the early
church writers promoted a consistent ethic.
Michael Gorman writes:[3]
the love which obliterated distinctions between adult and child, guilty
and innocent, friend and enemy also demolished the distinction between born and
unborn. Christ’s life and teachings
raised the fetus to the status of neighbor.
Abortion manifested violence and injustice to that neighbor and thus
became an example of bloodshed…Those who refused to kill in war refused to kill
in the womb, and vice versa…The unborn child is a human life, a neighbor. Violence against the fetus, therefore, is
violence against one’s neighbor…In this earliest period, Christians were unable
to separate abortion from violence in general…The earliest Christian ethic,
from Jesus to Constantine, can be described as a consistent pro-life
ethic. It was in favor of human life
regardless of age, nationality or social standing. It pleaded for the poor, the weak, women,
children, and the unborn. This pro-life
ethic discarded hate in favor of love, war in favor of peace, oppression in
favor of justice, bloodshed in favor of life.
The Christian’s response to abortion was one important aspect of this consistent
pro-life ethic. Rooted in Jewish love
for life and hatred of bloodshed, it developed a specific Christian character
as part of early Christian holistic discipleship.
Second, on the missional
front, peace witness as a sign to the world of God’s kingdom is significantly
compromised in its integrity and credibility without a concomitant consistent
witness for life. Third, on the
ecumenical front, I have found in my own grassroots work with Catholics on both
capital punishment and war that peace church theology would be far more
convincing were it linked integrally to a consistent ethic of life. Proclaiming a peace theology that papers over
inconsistencies in witness for life is not an ecumenically viable peace
witness.[4]
Within this vision, the specific
aim of this paper needs to be circumscribed.
In the peace tradition, emphasis is placed upon moral discernment within
the faith community. Regarding this, it
seems appropriate to recall here the wise counsel of Marlin Miller on two
points. First:[5]
Making operational an Anabaptist emphasis on the church as the
discerning community will also mean correcting a current Mennonite tendency to
reduce moral community to a process of conversation. Particularly with reference to complex issues
such as bioethical dilemmas, the temptation is to remain endlessly in process
without adopting substantive community standards…If we take seriously an
Anabaptist perspective on community and moral discernment,
we need both the community process and Christian moral norms and
standards. We need to care for and
clarify the language and concepts through which we perceive reality and make
moral judgments, as well as to provide a context of compassion and personal
support for people facing—or suffering from—difficult decisions.
Much attention has already
been given to “community process.”[6] While the practical task of providing “a
context of compassion and personal support for people facing—or suffering
from—difficult decisions” is no less important, my intent is to take up only
the indispensable task of articulating and clarifying “Christian moral norms
and standards.” Second: “The beginning
of life is surely distinguishable from many other questions, but it is not an
isolated issue for moral judgment. We
need to see it in the context of a broader commitment to the care of life as it
is given and preserved by God.” [7] Thus, rather than deal with abortion
comprehensively or systematically, I will emphasize bringing moral discernment
on abortion into coherence with the peace tradition perspective on capital
punishment and war. Following Yoder’s
description of “The Hermeneutics of Peoplehood,” this contribution to a peace
tradition conversation on a consistent ethic of life and peace witness is
primarily that of the didaskolos
(i.e., philosopher)— further contributions of prophets, scribes,
moderators, and other didaskoloi
are necessary.[8]
2. Where to begin?
The viewpoint taken here is
that a yet-to-be-born human life (“fetus”) is a human being/person in the
theologically and ethically relevant senses: every human life—regardless of
stage of development, state of in/dependence, or condition of health and
ability—is to be regarded as created in and bearing the image of God and, as
such, deserving of equal respect.[9] Thus, I do not begin with the philosophical
and scientific debates concerning both the definition of when “life” begins or
what is a “human being” as well as over the criteria for a human being to count
as a “person,” both of which I take to be theologically and ethically beside
the point.[10]
The first debate seizes upon
the wrong question: When does life begin? or Who/what
is a human being? The MC USA Statement
claims that “the fetus in its earliest stages…shares humanity with those who
conceived it” (21-22), but it cannot quite bring itself to acknowledge the
“fetus” as fully human: “We understand that the fetus is not just a piece of tissue…On the other hand,
neither is the fetus treated as a human/person
in the full sense of that term” (82-83, original emphasis). Such a claim prompts several questions: If
the fetus is not fully human, then is it partially non-human? If so, what
other-than-human would it be? How could
a life “share humanity” with its progenitors and be “less-than-human” at the
same time? And just when can a life
claim to be “fully human”? If nascent,
dependent human life in its early stages of development is
less-than-fully-human, then might aged, dependent human life in its late stages
of decline slip back into the less-than-fully-human category? Yet, the Statement goes on to simply
stipulate that “human life begins at conception” and that “any attempt to
define the beginning of humanness at a point along the spectrum of development
is a mistake” (83-85). But, if so, why
then deny yet-to-be-born human life less-than-full humanity in the first place?[11]
Such awkward semantics and
incoherent hedging follows from asking the wrong question. Consider the Parable of the Good Samaritan
(Luke
The point is not that the unborn child is by definition a
“neighbor.” Rather, the point is that we
are called upon to become neighbors
to those who are helpless, going beyond conventional conceptions of duty to
provide life-sustaining aid to those whom we might not have regarded as worthy
of our compassion. Such a standard would
apply both to the mother in a “crisis pregnancy” and to her unborn child. When we ask, ‘Is the fetus a person?’ we are
asking the same sort of limiting, self-justifying question that the lawyer
asked Jesus: ‘Who is my neighbor?’
Jesus, by answering the lawyer’s question with this parable, rejects casuistic
attempts to circumscribe our moral concern by defining the other as belonging
to a category outside the scope of our obligation. To define the unborn child
as a nonperson is to narrow the scope of moral
concern, whereas Jesus calls upon us to widen it by showing mercy and actively
intervening on behalf of the helpless.
Thus, concerning abortion, the appropriate question
is not, Does the fetus belong to the carefully defined
category of full-fledged human beings/persons whose life I must respect as my
own life? Rather, we should ask, What does it mean to respect—i.e., to care for and
protect—human life, however we find it?[14] That is, instead of asking whether the unborn
are our “neighbors,” we should ask, What does “proving
neighbor” to the unborn require of us?
The second debate situates
moral judgment precariously upon a “slippery slope.” Philosophers often define ‘personhood’ in
terms of autonomy—i.e., the capacities to evaluate options and direct one’s
life along a preferred path—which carries implications of higher cognitive
functioning (“rationality”) as well as self-consciousness of having choices
(“freedom”).[15] A distinction between the “human being” and
the “human person,” however carefully drawn, can be used to justify the killing
of those lacking the requisite capacities across a wide spectrum, including
abortion, infanticide and euthanasia.
Ethicist Sissela Bok
writes:[16]
And herein lies by far the most important reason for abandoning such
efforts [to define ‘humanity’ to draw distinctions]: the monumental misuse of
the concept of ‘humanity’ in so many practices of discrimination and atrocity
throughout history…Even when entered upon with the best of intentions, and in
the most guarded manner, the enterprise of basing the protection of human life
upon such criteria [of ‘personhood’] is dangerous. To question someone’s humanity or personhood
is a first step to mistreatment and killing.
When coupled with utilitarianism, according to which
“the end justifies the means,” the distinction between the human being and the
person motivates eugenic killing for “social health” and ultimately yields the
conclusion that no moral reason at all is necessary to justify the killing of
human beings in certain classes of “non-persons” (e.g., those with severe,
permanent developmental disabilities or suffering severe, irreversible
cognitive impairment).[17] On this point, the MC USA Statement takes a
stronger stand (93-95). From a
biblical-theological perspective, “personhood” is irrelevant. Richard Hays writes: “Whether we accord
‘personhood’ to the unborn child or not, he or she is a manifestation of new
life that has come from God.”[18]
Some will not be convinced
by such a choice of starting point. Why
begin here? Doesn’t this just beg the
question? Isn’t it the case that whether
or not the “fetus” is “human life” is
“the question at the center of the abortion debate”?[19] This is true enough of the secular debate
framed by Roe v Wade. For the church,
however, that is an inappropriate starting point. As Richard Hays puts it, “It is inappropriate
to approach the issue of abortion by asking, “When does human life begin?” or
“Is the fetus a ‘person’?” Such
questions are unanswerable, both from a scientific point of view and from the
biblical evidence. There is no basis in
Scripture for answering—or indeed even asking—such questions.”[20] To put it another way, it is the biblical,
not the philosophical or biological, description of human life that is primary
for Christian ethics. The proper
beginning point for Christian theological-ethical reflection on human life, I
suggest, is the biblical beginning point—creation of the human being in the
image of God.
Still, some will ask, does
this not beg the question of whether or not the fetus (or embryo or zygote) bears the image of God? Why should we suppose that human life at its
earliest stages of development bears the image of God when it bears little if
any likeness to us and we cannot be certain that it will actually develop
normally to become one of us? This misunderstands
“image of God.” Bearing the image of God
is not a function of morphological likeness to normal adult human beings any
more than morphological likeness to God (whatever that would mean). “Image of God” refers (inter alia) to “God’s sovereign claim,”
the “Creator’s prerogative” over each human being: each exists not only for oneself or for others, but ultimately for
God.[21] That we are created in the image of God implies that we are to view each other through the image of God, that we are to
imagine the other as God sees her
rather than as she is regarded from a merely human point of view (whether from
a philosophical or scientific perspective).[22] That we each bear the image
of God entails, not that we manifest a characteristic appearance, but rather
that in our being we re-present God’s prerogative. And, I contend, the unborn child re-presents
to us God’s sovereign prerogative over life just as much as does a full-grown
adult human being.
But, does fetal life re-present the prerogative of God? Biology and politics are both founded upon identifying
the other as belonging to a certain category according to standard criteria,
whether genus/species or nationality.
The origin of ethics is that,
when the other appears to my gaze, I “see” an epiphany of Christ and “hear” in
my heart the revelation of God’s will, “Love thy neighbor.” Ethics is thus founded upon “seeing” the
other as “speaking” an invocation
(“Have mercy”) and supplication (“Help me”) antecedent to my asking the
self-justifying, obligation-limiting question, “Who is my neighbor?”[23] Prior to asserting my “freedom” or “right”
before the other, prior to determining the “nature” of the other—prior to
social contract or scientific investigation, the other in her very being already addresses me with a word to
which I am responsible before God: the “face”—the “proximate presence” or
“naked vulnerability”—of the other is a summons to solidarity, a call to
commitment, a disclosure of obligation that puts my freedom into question.[24] Before I can retreat from a concrete
situation into a reflective stance from which to deliberate, this life has already made its “appearance” and “announced” itself to me with
divine imperative: “Thou shalt not kill.”[25] To withdraw into self-justifying skepticism
(“Am I my brother’s keeper?”) would be to evade commitment, to abandon
responsibility. Indeed, it is only by committing myself
to the other as neighbor and taking responsibility for the other’s evident needs that I can recognize this one as a moral peer.
Recall the Parable of the
Good Samaritan. The beaten and bloodied
body of the stranger lying crumpled beside the road does not first show itself
to the passer-by as an ontological mystery (“What sort of creature might this
be?”) or an epistemological problem (“Does the evidence support the hypothesis
that this one needs care and protection?”), but rather in its vulnerable
presence “proclaims” a divine imperative: “Have mercy. Help me.”
To withdraw from the stranger to a critical distance and ask, “Why
should I help you? What claim have you
on my mercy? What makes your life
deserving of respect?” is to evade commitment, to abandon responsibility.[26] In passing by on the other side of the road,
the priest and the Levite, entrusted keepers of the law, show that they
themselves do not know the law; and they do not know the law precisely because
they refuse to “hear” the law being “proclaimed” in the “ears of their heart”
by this very stranger lying helpless beside the road. One knows the law by loving the neighbor in response
to the neighbor’s plea; by not owning this neighbor and his needs, they disown
the law and so break covenant with God.
The Samaritan traveler hears the stranger’s plea and answers the call
with committed action that takes responsibility for his needs, thereby
demonstrating that he (a Samaritan!) knows the law in his heart and enjoys
friendship with God: “…when he saw him, he was moved with pity. He went to him…” (Luke 10:33-34). Jesus said to the lawyer: “Go and do
likewise” (Luke
To begin with such questions
as “When does life begin?” or “Is the fetus a person?” or “Does the fetus bear
the image of God?” is to place epistemology and ontology before ethics. The Parable of the Good Samaritan effects a
reversal—the ethical (“proving neighbor”) is prior to the epistemological and
ontological (“Who is my neighbor?”), relationship with the other is prior to
knowledge claims and categorical distinctions.
In order to truly recognize the
other for who and what she really is (viz. a bearer of
God’s image), and in order to truly know
what it means to be merciful as God is merciful, I must first commit myself to her as neighbor: I can know that the other
presents to me a “face,” that the other is one who bears “the image of God,”
only by binding my destiny to the other through Christ-like vulnerable
solidarity (“I bind my heart this tide…”).[29] To be
neighbor—prior to asserting rights, calculating obligation, or judging the
other to be “another like us”—is to identify
oneself with the other in her vulnerability and thereby to see the other as epiphany, to bind
oneself to Christ-suffering-in-the-other.
But, is that proof?
Our place within the moral community cannot be secured by argument on
the basis of premises and evidence. In truth, no one could ever earn moral
standing before the judgment of others by way of convincing proofs, other than
to say, “I am a human being, created in God’s image.” Membership in the moral community is neither
a product of biological development nor the conclusion of a philosophical
argument nor the outcome of a political process. Rather, moral standing, the same as life
itself, is originally a gift of God: to be given life is to be placed by God
alongside others within the moral community.
Not one of us has any moral ground upon which to take our stand within
the community and stake our claim as equal members other than this—that we
exist by the divine gifting that is life.
All of our “rights” are premised upon grace; we may lay claim to only
the life that God gives. And the
justification we cannot supply for ourselves, we cannot reasonably or rightly
demand of others; to do otherwise is to presume we have merited what God has
granted. We live by gift, not by what we
earn; and not one of us can earn equal membership in the moral community any
more than can the unborn.
For
those who remain skeptical, who require scientific evidence or Scriptural
“proof-texts” or philosophical arguments that the embryonic or fetal life is in
fact a human being before they would recognize nascent human life as having
moral standing in its own right, I offer the following consideration. If we are honestly uncertain about the status
of the fetus, then because it is human life that is potentially at stake, does
not prudence teach us that in our ignorance we ought to approach the fetus with
extreme caution? That is, because each
human being/person is of incomparable value, if we are uncertain that the fetus is not
a human life, then prudence counsels that it would be far better to cautiously
protect the fetal life as if it were a human being/person than to permit
its destruction out of ignorance.[30] Uncertainty, then, should motivate building a
“fence of protection” around even “potential” human life.
3. Torah and abortion
While there are no clear
biblical precedents one can cite on the question of abortion (unlike the
questions of war and capital punishment), Exodus 21:22-25 is sometimes cited as
precedent for valuing the life of the yet-to-be-born less than the life of the
already-born, such that abortion might be justified in some cases (e.g., where
the mother’s life is endangered). Thus
the MC USA Statement: “A biblical passage that indirectly speaks to the status
of the fetus (Exodus
Rabbinical tradition
interprets this passage otherwise.
Because the lex talionis is
not applied to the death of the unborn child, traditional rabbinical
interpretation draws the inference that a fetus is not considered a fully
living person; hence, abortion is not the taking of the life of a human
being/person, so that abortion to save the life of the mother is justifiable.[32] The traditional rabbinical interpretation,
from the retributive justice viewpoint, assumes implicitly that the lex talionis is
itself a legal measure of the value of human life. In retributive perspective, the victim is
valued by punishing the offender, so
that the value of the life of the victim is commensurate with the penalty imposed; in the case of murder,
if the penalty is anything less than death, then the victim’s life is valued
less than the offender’s life and, hence, the victim is not respected fully as
a human being/person. Thus, that the lex talionis
applies to a certain crime entails that the victim is respected by the law as a
full-fledged human being/person on an equal basis. Conversely, therefore, that the lex talionis does
not apply to the death of the unborn
child entails that the law does not
respect the unborn child as a full-fledged human being/person.
Recent
Christian interpretation, however, especially within the peace church
tradition, draws a different inference from the narrative and historical
context of biblical law regarding the meaning of the lex talionis. Rather than being a legal measure of the
value of human life that justifies
the taking of life, the lex talionis was
intended instead as a legal limitation
on killing carried out through the tribal practice of blood vengeance.[33] If we take this perspective on the meaning of
the lex talionis,
then the inference from the casuistry of Exodus 21 to the relative (and
unequal) valuation of the mother and the fetus, and hence to the justification
of abortion in special cases, is rendered non
sequitur. This is no idle
hermeneutical debate, a distinction without difference. The MC USA Statement evidently adopts the
traditional rabbinic interpretation (cf. 77-80). By doing so, it implicitly (if
unintentionally) adopts a retributive justice perspective and thereby
underwrites the death penalty. Exodus
21:22-25 implies that the mother’s life has greater value than the unborn
child’s life only if the lex talionis
constitutes the legal measure of the value of human life; and if the lex talionis constitutes the legal measure
of the value of human life, then the
death penalty (“life for life”) is the only just punishment for murder. So, the MC USA Statement on Abortion would
seem to be in serious tension with the MC USA Statement on the Death Penalty,
the latter of which rejects the traditional rabbinic interpretation of the lex talionis
along with retributive justice and, of course, rejects the death penalty as
incompatible with the biblical vision of shalom.[34]
4. Discernment in “hard cases”
In order to work toward bringing peace church thinking on abortion into coherence with peace tradition theology concerning capital punishment and war, instead of thinking about abortion in the abstract, we will consider specifically the two perennial “hard cases.”
4.1 Rape/incest
In
the case of pregnancy resulting from rape or incest, the first thing to
acknowledge is that a woman created in God’s image has suffered violence, a
forceful violation of freedom and body, a brutal assault on dignity, a wrong
that begs to be righted. The
irreversible consequences of this violence extend beyond physical and emotional
harm: she has not only been sexually violated, but is now responsible for
making choices for a life she did not choose to conceive. This summons a merciful, hospitable response
from the church: we are called to solidarity with this woman in her suffering
and decision, to take responsibility for the child conceived without consent to
the extent of being willing to help raise, or even adopt, the child if
necessary. The church must not compound
violence with judgment: we cannot say with integrity that there should be no
unwanted children unless we demonstrate that there are no unwelcome pregnant
women. Nonetheless, such circumstances
demand sound moral discernment by the church.[35]
Would
abortion be compatible with God’s will for shalom? promote
or restore shalom? Shalom for whom? For sure, we must say: not for the unborn
child. To argue that abortion would be
compatible with God’s will for shalom would require,
to begin with, excluding yet-to-be-born children, or at least those conceived
through violence, from the peaceable purposes of God’s kingdom. Beyond this, the case of rape or incest
raises for us the question of whether there can be any place for violence in
the Christian vision of salvation: Can the violent death of an innocent victim
restore shalom? The peace church
tradition eschews the notion that human violence is redemptive, that life can
be saved and peace restored through human bloodshed. This carries over into thinking about the
atonement brought about through the cross.
It
was not the body-breaking, blood-shedding violence that we committed against
Jesus that made peace with God and granted us life in Christ. The actual trial, torture and execution of Jesus
was a travesty of justice—a crime, a “judicial
murder,” an egregious transgression of God’s law that itself begged for
atonement.[36] But God did not require our blood to atone
for Jesus—indeed, if animal blood could not atone for a human life, what amount
of human blood could possibly atone for God’s life?! We are saved through the cross precisely
because here God decisively transcends the destructive logic of “a life for a
life” that otherwise condemns all humanity for the death of Jesus. Instead, Jesus reveals the saving justice of
God and restores peace through cross and resurrection by: remaining faithful to
God’s purpose and trusting wholly in God’s providence in the face of evil and
death; giving his life sacrificially for the sake of the poor, weak, and
outcast; forgiving those who wronged him; welcoming repentant sinners into the
kingdom of God; restoring to fellowship those who deserted and denied him; and
reconciling former enemies (cf. Luke 22-24, Romans 5, and Ephesians 2). In all of these ways, God was at work in
Jesus in order to reconcile the world to himself (2 Corinthians
From
this perspective, abortion can in no way contribute to the restoration of
shalom, to “making right” the wrong situation created by violence. Whatever “peace” abortion might purchase for
the rape or incest victim would come only at the bloody cost of sacrificing the
life of an innocent victim; and the Gospel unveils such “peace” as empty
deception.[38] Abortion might “save” a woman from bearing a
child she did not choose; but it would only reflect the violence done to her
and create another victim. Abortion
would imitate the crime, not Christ; it would be non-redemptive,
counter-atoning, a false “salvation.”
This also, I think, is the strongest reason why the peace tradition
should reject capital punishment: to shed blood for blood shed, although
legally correct and retributively justified (according to the lex talionis),
would not restore shalom because it only multiplies violence, creates more
victims suffering loss, preempts forgiveness and reconciliation, and, hence, is
counter-atoning, contrary to the life-giving, peace-restoring justice revealed
through the cross.[39] Whether we deal with murder or rape/incest,
therefore, God’s will for shalom and the revelation of God’s justice through
the cross should motivate us, at the very least, to not create more victims;
more than that, it should motivate us to compassionately seek, as far as
possible, healing and restoration for both victim and offender.
This
biblical perspective of shalom helps us critique the following argument by Meilaender in favor of condoning abortion in case of rape
or incest:[40]
“…in this instance, even though the fetus is, of course, formally innocent, its
continued existence within the woman may constitute for her an embodiment of
the original attack upon her person.
Formally innocent as the fetus itself is, it
continues to represent in vivid form the attack the woman has suffered.” This argument is suspect from a theological
perspective. It is quite possible (and
understandable) that a woman who falls victim to rape or incest might see the
resulting life, or even her own self, as embodying the violence committed
against her; tragically, some women experiencing this trauma attempt harm upon
the child and/or themselves. This only
summons the church to greater mercy and compassion. Nonetheless, should we, the church, adopt such a description as normative for orienting ourselves
ethically to a situation of rape or incest?[41] Such a description would significantly
qualify the biblical understanding that we are to view every human being/person as made in the image of God. We do not (should not!) view the woman in the
image of her attacker or through the lens of the crime against her; instead,
she is to be viewed in the image of God her maker. She is originally a child of God, irreducible
to an object of violence, and thus to be cared for as precious rather than cast
out as disgraced. Likewise, we do not
(should not!) view the attacker primarily in the image of his crime; instead,
he also is to be viewed in the image of God.
He, too, is originally a child of God, irreducible to an act of
violence, and thus to be seen in light of the redemption and reconciliation
possible in Christ. Why, then, should we
suppose that the unborn child, though conceived in violence, is to be viewed in
the image of the attack, and thereby effectively reduced to that act of
violence? The unborn child, despite the
circumstances of conception, nonetheless presents most originally an embodiment
of the face of God. Consider again the
death of Jesus. We do not infer from the
fact that the life of Jesus was crushed by violence that on the cross he
thereby embodied the evil of the state’s demonic and blasphemous intent to
usurp God’s sovereign authority over life.
Rather, we confess by resurrection faith that, despite the state’s evil
intent inscribed upon his body, the dying Jesus embodied the victory of God
over the forces of sin and death: the cross, vindicated by resurrection, is the
ultimate revelation of God’s reign (Romans 1:16-17, 3:21-22). We see by resurrection faith in the bloodied
and broken body of Jesus a flesh-and-blood sign of God’s grace and peace, a
generous offering of life by God despite violent human rejection. It is through this image of
God-in-Christ-on-the-cross that we should view all victims of violence,
including women suffering from, and children conceived through, rape or
incest. We should thus regard the unborn
child, whose life is conceived in violence and whose life is now vulnerable to
being crushed by violence, as embodying no less the intent of God for human
shalom, a divine offering of life in response to human violence; and our
response to such a gift should be in kind, peace-making and
life-respecting. Whereas violence is the
evil humans do, life is a gift of God; the child should thus represent for us,
not violence, but grace and peace.
Although
abortion, as violence, cannot bring the peace of God near, can God bring peace
near to those women suffering the violence of rape/incest who choose abortion
in response to their affliction? Surely. If God can
bring restorative, reconciling peace near to us through Christ despite the
violence of the cross, then through Christ God can bring restorative, healing
peace near to these women.[42] How, then, is the church to respond to women
who make this choice? As
God does—peaceably. If the church
is called to a life-giving, peace-making, healing and restorative response to
both women suffering the violence of rape/incest and men guilty of such
violence, then all the more is it called to a life-giving, peace-making,
healing and restorative response to women suffering the violence of abortion in
addition to the violence of rape/incest.
4.2 Life endangerment
A
woman and her family experiencing a problematic pregnancy that, if continued
until natural birth, would place the mother’s health at great risk or put her
life in grave danger, is perhaps the most difficult situation the church faces
regarding this issue. In such a
situation, the MC USA Statement counsels: “In those rare situations when a
choice must be made between the life of the mother and the life of the unborn
child, Christians should prayerfully seek the guidance of the Holy Spirit with
a group of believers committed to discerning the will of God….We condone
abortion only under the most exceptional circumstances. When abortion appears to be
the least bad choice among several undesirable options, we stress the need for
discernment in the faith community” (89-91, 107-109). The Statement is, of course, quite correct to
“urge members of the faith community to engage in a discerning process rather
than making decisions in isolation” (130-131).
None of us, men or women, are self-sufficient moral agents—“moral
autonomy” is an “enlightenment” philosophical fiction. However, following Marlin Miller, I would
suggest that simply pointing to a “discernment process” is inadequate. Here, I see two deficiencies. First, because the Statement offers nothing
substantial by way of guidance for moral discernment in such “rare cases” and
“exceptional circumstances,” such counsel might be interpreted as tacitly
accepting the choice of “the lesser evil,” which comes uncomfortably close to
condoning consequentialism. Recalling
Marlin Miller’s wisdom, we need to go further and think this through in accord
with “Christian moral norms and standards.”
Second, while the Statement points appropriately to “mutual
accountability” within the faith community as a parameter for moral discernment
(132-134), this raises the question of what kind
of faith community is capable of engaging in such discernment faithfully. As
the biblical perspective gives priority to the ethical over the epistemological
and ontological, so too does biblical ethics give priority to the body over its
members. Hays emphasizes this communal
character of Christian ethics: “The coherence of the New Testament’s ethical
mandate will come into focus only when we understand that mandate in ecclesial terms, when we seek God’s will
not by asking first, “What should I
do,” but “What should we do?””[43] This communal ethical question calls the
character of the community itself into question: what we ought to do is predicated upon who we are to be.[44] What sort of mutual commitment does
authentic mutual accountability within the church presuppose? What sort of solidarity does authentic God-like compassion require?[45] The Statement appropriately calls the church
to offer emotional support to, and share financial responsibility with,
families that have children born into situations of economic hardship or with
developmental disabilities (138-141, 153-154): maintaining solidarity within
the body of Christ, participating in each other’s sufferings, requires such
mutual aid in difficult circumstances (2 Corinthians 8). The Statement is strangely silent, however,
regarding expectations of mutual commitment and communal solidarity in
situations of life endangerment due to a problematic pregnancy—it mentions only
“a group of believers committed to discerning the will of God” (88-91), but
says nothing about a faith community that endures suffering with patience and hope
in obedience to God’s will. We ought to
ask soberly whether a faith community that is not already mutually committed to enduring suffering corporately
with patience and hope out of obedience to God’s will would be a place where
God’s will can be discerned faithfully in “exceptional circumstances.” The aim of Christian moral discernment is to
guide a corporate life of faithful discipleship. Faithful discernment presupposes discipleship
commitment—discernment can guide discipleship only if discipleship informs
discernment.
In
situations of serious endangerment to both mother and unborn child, we
encounter a moral dilemma, an apparent choice between two lives.[46] The moral temptation in resolving this
dilemma is two-fold. First, we might be
tempted to try to “weigh” the value of the life of the unborn child against
other goods: if the unborn child carries genetic potential for disease or
deformity, or if the family already has “enough” children, or if the mother
might be rendered incapable of bearing further children with continued
pregnancy, then we might justify abortion as a means to avoiding certain evils
or achieving certain goods. Second, we
might be tempted to reason that one life saved is better than two lives lost,
so that abortion—which, even though it will destroy a life, at least promises
to save a life and, hence, is the “lesser evil”—is justified.[47] Either way, we succumb to consequentialist
calculation in which “the end justifies the means,” such that human life is
“weighed in the balance” as if the mother and child each had a determinable
value relative to other goods, as if their lives were invested with merely
human interests/preferences and did not re-present the prerogative of God.[48] The moral danger in these temptations is that
if consequentialist thinking justifies abortion, then
it potentially justifies abortion (as well as infanticide, euthanasia, capital
punishment, and civilian casualties in war) to serve the “greater good” or
enhance “social utility.” Moreover,
were consequentialism a sound basis for moral discernment, it would follow that
a Christian woman who elects not to
have an abortion in life-endangering circumstances, and who thus cedes into
God’s hand the possibility that both she and her child may die (“the greater
evil”), actually does wrong because
she fails to act to bring about “the lesser evil.” That is, proportionalist
judgment of “greater good/lesser evil” implies that the self-sacrificial choice
in this life-endangering situation would be immoral.[49] Thus, consequentialist
thinking effectively subverts the Christian freedom to choose
self-sacrificially after the pattern of Christ, the freedom to resist out of
faithfulness to God the temptation to do evil that good might come.[50] Finally, consequentialist
thinking in such a situation—“minimize losses, save what you can”—is
diametrical to salvation hope; for it assumes there are no possibilities “yet
unseen,” no hope beyond our powers of control.[51] The consequentialist
choice effectively attempts to secure one’s own salvation by seizing control of
life through the power of the self.[52] To deliberately choose “the lesser evil” assumes that the outcome is beyond the
reach of God’s redemptive purpose.
It does not follow, however, that we should adopt the formula “better
two deaths (by natural causes) than one murder (by direct killing of the
innocent).” This is still a proportionalist judgment based upon a weighing of good and
evil outcomes—omitting a life-saving act is judged a “lesser evil” than
committing a life-taking act. The
position maintained here is that, especially when it comes to human life, such consequentialist thinking is antithetical to the basic
thrust of the Christian norms of respect for the dignity of the human
being/person created in the image of God and faithfulness to Christ in the way
of the cross. While there is a certain “teleology” in “seeking first the
Christian
ethics in the peace church tradition ought instead to consider moral dilemmas
in life-endangering situations from the perspective of the biblical
narrative. Love of neighbor, even to the
point of self-sacrificially choosing to lay down one’s life for another, is not
an obligation entailed by an abstract moral principle (“Never do evil that good
may come”), but rather follows from an existential commitment to follow Jesus
in the nonviolent way of the cross (John 15:13; 1 John 3:16). The way of discipleship is ultimately a
matter of voluntary fidelity, not to a universal moral law, but rather to the
particular revelation of God’s will in Jesus, who shows us a path of service
and self-sacrifice rather than a way of clinging to life and privilege at all
cost (Philippians 2:3-11). Those who are
committed to following Jesus in whole-lived discipleship are to see such
life-and-death questions within the scope of the divine providence that is
evidently worked through the cross and resurrection of Jesus—viz., God’s
promise of redemption, redemption of even suffering and death: those who remain
faithful in “the way,” those who accept suffering or death as a witness to
Jesus, those who do not seek to control their own fate but are willing to
surrender life into the hands of God for the sake of the Gospel, God will
save. God is sovereign over life and history
and steadfastly faithful even in death, so that neither the power of death nor
our unfaithfulness will have the
final word. Given this perspective, the
peace church tradition has consistently held that taking life, whether for the
sake of self-preservation or communal defense, is incompatible with Christian
discipleship. To cling to our lives at
the expense of the life of another, to claim the privilege of justifying
ourselves over and against the neighbor (whether friend, stranger, outcast, or
enemy), is to lose faith, to surrender fidelity to the crucified and risen Lord
for the sake of self (cf. Mark
This
biblical-theological reflection, I suggest, motivates considering the case of
life endangerment due to a problematic pregnancy as a specific instance of the
general scenario—“What would you do?”—that is commonly posed to peace tradition
Christians in order to test one’s personal commitment to and the ethical
consistency of nonviolence. The excellent
analysis of that general question by Yoder will assist our theological-ethical
reflection.[54]
The
“What would you do?” scenario, as it is usually presented, presumes a situation
with only two possible options/outcomes: kill or be killed. Similarly, the case of the problematic
pregnancy that endangers life for both mother and unborn child usually presumes
only two options/outcomes for the mother: abort or die. Assuming an exhaustive dichotomy, and given
that we do have power of control over the life of the unborn child sufficient
to determine the former outcome, the consequentialist/proportionalist
calculation and choice of abortion as “the lesser evil” seems eminently
reasonable. From the perspective of
Christian faith in divine providence, however, this assumption is inadequate
for moral discernment:[55]
The Christian understanding of divine
With this in mind, our
question for discernment is this: If trust in God’s providential care and
redemptive purpose allows us the patience and hope to refrain from violent
force against an aggressive attack by an enemy intending harm to ourselves or
our loved ones, then does it not all the more allow us to refrain from violent
force against an innocent and defenseless neighbor? Does God’s grace provide no option than to
take a life? Is Christian hope bound by
‘either-or’?
The “What would you do?” scenario, moreover, usually depicts a situation in which the person(s) under attack are isolated from the solidarity of a faith community gathered in a shared hope and formed by shared convictions and commitments. Similarly, the usual discussion of the case of a problematic, life-endangering pregnancy isolates the woman from significant relationships (even her maternal relationship with her unborn child) and considers her options primarily (often exclusively) in terms of “autonomy” and “individual rights.”[56] This, again, is inadequate for Christian moral discernment—no Christian who has been incorporated by baptism as a member of the body of Christ, whether woman or man, is an “autonomous moral agent.”[57] Moreover, as Kathy Rudy has observed: “Stated simply, in treating Christian women as isolated and abstract individuals, we rob them of their connections, relationships, and community, and we rob ourselves of the opportunity to care for and welcome both them and their children.”[58] In situations where the innocent and defenseless are threatened with harm, the gathered community of disciples, shaped by a Gospel tradition of nonviolence and seeking to be faithful to God and one another, can be an inspired source of creative and redemptive alternatives to violence.
Stories
of Christian faithfulness in life-threatening circumstances can help widen our
corporate imagination and enliven our corporate spirit to prepare ourselves for
God to work creative and redemptive possibilities in our midst.[59] Two contemporary films tell compelling
stories that are both instructive and inspiring. In the film Witness, the Amish elder Eli Lapp, belonging to a community shaped
by a tradition of nonresistance and seeking to hand down that tradition,
instructs his grandson, who is fascinated by the police officer’s revolver:
“Many times people have said to us, ‘You must fight, you must kill. It is the only way to preserve the good.’ But, Samuel, there is never only one
way—remember that.” As this story plays
out, the community gathered in response to danger effectively and nonviolently
resolves the conflict in which the innocent and defenseless lives of a woman
and her child are threatened. The “other
way” to “preserve the good” is revealed and realized by the Spirit through the
solidarity of the discipleship community in the face of real suffering and
loss. In vulnerable solidarity, the
gathered community shares the risk of discipleship by being willing to absorb
suffering and loss into its corporate body rather than use violence to defend
itself, and so witnesses to shared hope and mutual faithfulness. Such hope and faithfulness are palpable in a
poignant scene of the film Romero, in
which Archbishop Oscar Romero, later martyred, participates in the suffering
and persecution of his people, who have been brutally repressed by
A Christian community gathered in shared faith and hope around a mother and child suffering a life-endangering pregnancy, if it is committed further to sharing responsibility for and absorbing the cost of discipleship faithfulness, can be the place where the Spirit reveals and realizes nonviolent alternatives to an apparent “abort or die” choice. Such a community would be a witness for life by trusting in the good news of salvation proclaimed by the cross and resurrection of Jesus, a saving hope that transcends “cutting our losses” by choosing “the lesser evil.”[60] Indeed, I would dare add, unless a faith community is corporately committed to vulnerable solidarity in suffering—to being the crucified body of Christ, a true “eucharistic community” that is itself “broken and shared,” prepared to share bodily in each other’s sufferings as we are called to participate in Christ’s suffering—it is unfit as a body for faithful discernment in the face of life endangerment to its members. If we cannot confirm in deed as well as affirm in word that “Here in this world, dying and living, we are each other’s bread and wine,”[61] then are we faithfully prepared for the task of discernment? If we are not mutually committed to taking corporate responsibility for the potentially costly consequences of the Christ-imitating, self-sacrificing discipleship decisions to which our members might find themselves called, then are we capable of seeing such costly choices as existential possibilities in the first place?[62] The hymn “Heart with loving heart united” expresses just this point—viz., mutual accountability in moral discernment and communal solidarity in bearing the costs of faithful choices are the warp and woof of the same weaving.[63] The “hard case” of life endangerment thus evokes the question of whether contemporary peace tradition churches really do constitute discipleship communities characterized by a shared commitment, in mutual solidarity and in faithfulness to Christ, to suffering loss of life rather than resorting to violence in defense of community members. The church is to be the kind of community in which compassionate, nonviolent, self-sacrificial, Christ-imitating choices are both imaginable and, with patience and hope, possible for the body of disciples. An authentic peace tradition consistent witness on abortion, capital punishment, and war depends essentially upon our congregations being called to be discipleship communities; only thus can faithfulness to Christ in the nonviolent way of the cross and respect for the dignity of the human being/person created in the image of God be upheld consistently as Christian norms. This, then, is the crucial question: What kind of faith community is capable of faithfully incarnating a consistent ethic of life and peace witness? Are our congregations committed to the corporate sacrificial solidarity necessary to living out a consistent ethic and witness?
Now,
some may want to question here whether the case of life endangerment due to a
problematic pregnancy does fit appropriately within the “What would you do?”
scenario. Does this woman incur risk to
life, one might ask, as a consequence of faithfulness to Christ? Instead, one might say, the danger to mother
and child is simply the result of nature gone awry (like a natural disaster),
which could happen to anyone for no apparent reason. Thus, the objection continues, this case has
nothing to do with accepting suffering for the sake of Christ (1 Peter
I
offer two replies to this objection.
First, while it is correct that the problematic pregnancy itself is not
a consequence of any decision to follow Christ in “the way,” neither is the
scenario in which one’s home is aggressively invaded and one’s family is
violently threatened (which can happen to anyone for no apparent reason). If, on these grounds, Christian discipleship
has nothing to do with the case of life-endangerment under consideration, then,
on those same grounds, it would seem also to have nothing to do with the “What
would you do?” scenario. So, agreeing to
this point would imply that if the church condones abortion to save the
mother’s life in the case of the problematic pregnancy, then, for the sake of
consistency, the church ought to condone violent self-preservation in other
cases as well. And if the church
condones violent self-preservation in
some cases, then, because we are to love the neighbor as ourselves, it would seem that the church should further
condone some cases of violent defense of others: if certain circumstances
excuse self-preserving violence, then it seems to follow that neighbor-love
provides even greater excuse for other-defensive violence under certain
circumstances. Thus, to grant this
objection would entail rejecting Yoder’s argument against the option of
successful killing as the appropriate choice in the “What would you do?” scenario.
Second,
the disciples’ faithful following of Jesus has to do with facing not only those
who persecute for the sake of faith, but also forces of “natural evil”—stormy
seas, demonization, chronic illness, and death (Mark 4:35-5:43). A peace church perspective appropriately
guards against divorcing salvation from the way of peace. Given the intimate connection between
discipleship, suffering and salvation in “the way,” I suggest that a peace
church perspective should also not disconnect theodicy from the way of peace.[65] To “overcome evil with good” and “live
peaceably with all” in the face of enemies belong to the same theological
fabric as “being saved in hope while waiting for the redemption of our bodies”
amidst a groaning creation longing to be “set free from its bondage to decay”
(cf. Romans 8:18ff and 12:9ff.).
Mennonites have historically borne communal witness to this single
theological fabric—life-peace-hope-salvation—by responding to natural disasters
and confronting violent conflicts alike out of the same call from Jesus to
service and peacemaking: tending to both those left destitute by storm and
those made vulnerable by war effectively witnesses to a single ethic of life
and peace, a single hope of salvation.
Situations of life endangerment to mother and child present in a most
palpable way the bondage of creation to decay and our bodies’ dire need for
redemption. So, likening such situations
to natural disasters, peace church tradition should commend no less a
compassionate, nonviolent communal response embracing the lives of both mother and child through which the
church may witness to hope of salvation and peace in Christ for all creation.[66]
The question at stake here is whethe