(Third Sunday of the Year (B): This homily was given on January 23, 2000 at St. Pius X Church, Westerly, R.I. by Fr. Raymond Suriani. Read the Book of Jonah.)

"The human person: a disposable object, or a child of God?"

What a way to go.

The scene is all too familiar to a priest: a motionless woman lying in a hospital bed—eyes closed, head tilted back, with the eerie sound of the so-called "death rattle" coming forth with each breath she takes; and all around her bed and scattered throughout the room distressed relatives and friends—one holding her hand, another whispering something in her ear, some silently praying, others openly crying.

I walked into a situation like this just the other day, to administer the Sacrament of the Sick to a woman from our parish who was at the Clipper Home, in the last stages of a long battle with cancer. Sometimes these bedside vigils last for only a few hours, and sometimes they go on for days—a period of time which must seem like an eternity for those involved. As those of you who have been through it will certainly attest, it’s an experience which drains you physically, emotionally and spiritually. You feel like a "wet noodle" when it’s finally over. Now unfortunately there are some in our world today who would comment on situations like this by saying, "What a way to go!" And by that they would mean, "What a terrible way to go! To cause your loved ones such agony and heartache and distress while you slowly pass away. How unfair! How horrible!"

My response is also to say, "What a way to go!" But by that I mean, "What a beautiful way to go! What a dignified way to exit this life (which we all must do, sooner or later). How beautiful and dignified it is to approach this climactic, decisive moment surrounded by loving family and friends; comforted and sustained by their words of hope and their prayers; and empowered with the reconciling grace of God which comes through the sacraments. I ask you: Is there any better way to go?"

In his new biography of Pope John Paul II, George Weigel writes this about the Holy Father: "Beginning with his late teenage years under the Nazi Occupation, he came to the conviction that the crisis of the modern world was first of all a crisis of ideas, a crisis in the very idea of the human person." (Witness to Hope, p. 7) The two responses I just mentioned reflect this crisis perfectly. Those who say, "How unfair to cause your loved ones such pain and distress when you’re dying," are actually saying, "Get out of the way, grandma! You’ve lived long enough. We don’t need this disruption in our lives; we don’t need this emotional upheaval, and we certainly don’t need any more medical bills." Behind a statement like this is the idea that the human person is a disposable item—an object which can be thrown away when it’s no longer useful to us. It’s precisely this idea, of course, which stands behind the drive for euthanasia and physician-assisted suicide.

As Catholic Christians, our perspective should and must be the other one--the one which says: "Yes, it’s difficult; yes, it’s emotionally draining; yes, it’s terribly disheartening to watch our loved one in this horrible condition. But she’s not an object. She’s a human person made in the image and likeness of God. She has an immortal soul; she has an eternal destiny. Even in her weakened, sick condition, she has a dignity far above anything else in the material universe! Therefore, she deserves to be treated with love and care and compassion and respect until her last breath. And how beautiful it is that we have the opportunity to demonstrate our love and care by being here with her, praying for her and comforting her until the end."

 

Which of these two philosophies of the human person will prevail in the future? The human person as a disposable object? Or the human person as a child of God? My brothers and sisters, the answer to that question will directly influence the events of the 21st century. How do we know that? Because the answer to that question has directly influenced the history of the 20th century and every other prior century. Why has the 20th century been filled with such violence and discord? It’s because the wrong philosophy of the human person has dominated. Why, for example, is racism still a problem? Because some refuse to believe that blacks are equal in dignity to whites, that’s why. Why did the Nazis try to exterminate the Jews during World War II? Because they saw the Jews as non-persons—disposable items, unlike the rest of humanity. On this weekend when we observe the sad anniversary of the Roe v. Wade decision, we should also ask: Why has it become acceptable to kill babies before they’re born? Why has this type of homicide become the accepted law of the land? It’s because too many Americans have bought the lie that pre-born babies are not as human as the rest of us. And the abortionists themselves reflect this idea in the very language they use. What do they say the babies in the womb are? They call them "products of conception" do they not? Think about that expression for a moment—products of conception. What are products? Products are objects: objects that are rightly disposed of when they are no longer useful. You buy a car; after a certain period of time it begins to rust, and the engine begins to break down. It eventually gets to the point where it’s no longer useful to you or anyone else. So what do you do? You scrap it! You bring it to the junk yard. And that’s okay! That’s what you should do, because it’s a thing, it’s an object! Well, that’s precisely how pre-born babies are looked upon by all those who would label themselves "pro-choice." As far as I’m concerned, all who would give themselves that title—from the president on down—should be sent back to nursery school to read a book which many of the children here present have read: Horton Hears a Who. Remember what Horton used to say? He used to say, "A person’s a person, no matter how small." Someone should send that book to Bill Clinton!

If Jonah the prophet were with us today, I think he would say, "Friends, listen closely. You heard part of my story a few moments ago in your first reading, but unfortunately some very important details were left out. Yes, it’s true, I went to the Ninevites and I proclaimed God’s word to them—but, quite frankly, I didn’t want to. In fact, when God first called me, I ran away. He told me to set out for Nineveh, and I got on the first ship headed in the opposite direction! Why, you ask? Because I couldn’t stand the Ninevites! They’ve been our enemies for years; they’ve hurt and killed our people. They’re inhuman! They’re less than human. Of course, God does have a sense of humor, and he definitely is persistent! As we were sailing along, the Lord sent a terrible storm. They finally threw me overboard and I was swallowed by Moby Dick’s great-grandfather! After three days he spit me up onto the shore and God said, ‘Jonah, why don’t we give it another try?’ I got the message this time, and I reluctantly went to Nineveh. And then the unthinkable happened! I went through the city preaching God’s word for one day, and everybody repented—from the king on down! And God had the audacity to forgive them! They repented, and he pardoned all their sins! Of course, I figured he would—that’s why I tried to run away in the first place! I didn’t want them to be forgiven! I wanted God to send fire and brimstone from heaven to fry these sub-human creatures, and—predictably—he was merciful. And now I’m sitting here, out in the middle of nowhere, praying for death. I’ve decided I would be better off dead than alive. I mean, what’s the point in going on? You know, it’s ironic: I began by wanting the Ninevites to die, and now I want to die. Strange, isn’t it? On the other hand, maybe it’s not so strange at all. Perhaps when you believe the lie that other people are less than human and don’t deserve to live, sooner or later you start to think the very same thing about yourself."

 

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