My students can tell you the danger of answering a question I ask in class. I am known for trick questions, such as, “Tell me about a wedding in the Torah,” or “Where is a conversion ceremony in Tanach?”

The answer in both cases is that there isn’t one.

And an abortion in the Torah? There isn’t one.

This week, though, we read about a physical altercation that ends in unintentional assault of a pregnant person. That assault is a crime. If a miscarriage results, the offense is more severe. What comes next, though, makes the essential point: If the pregnant person were killed in that fight, the penalty would be infinitely harsher. Killing a fetus is not homicide. 

When our sages began to codify Jewish law in the Mishnah, published around 200 C.E., they taught that, if carrying the fetus endangers the pregnant person’s life, the fetus must be destroyed, right up to the moment of birth.

Arkansas lawmakers are apparently less concerned than the sages were about pregnant people’s welfare.

Yes, Arkansas law permits abortion to save the pregnant person’s life, but only in a medical emergency. Arkansas law puts pregnant people at risk.

The matter is not theoretical. For example, a person with cancer can become pregnant, and a pregnant person can be diagnosed with cancer. Many forms of cancer treatment endanger the welfare of a fetus. Physicians will not prescribe those treatments to pregnant patients, which would be malpractice. The patient’s life is in danger, which would be exacerbated by delaying treatment.

In a state with compassionate abortion laws, the pregnant person could choose: Endanger their health to sustain the fetus or terminate the pregnancy to pursue prompt cancer treatment. Absent a medical emergency, though, Arkansas law does not permit the pregnancy to be terminated. A doctor who performs that procedure could be imprisoned. A Jewish doctor who declined to perform the abortion—you know, to stay out of prison—would be violating the Jewish law that requires terminating a pregnancy that threatens the pregnant person’s life. 

In 2023, in the first session of the Arkansas General Assembly after the Supreme Court’s Dobbs ruling, overthrowing Roe v. Wade and permitting states to limit or prohibit abortion in ways they could not for a half-century, Arkansas lawmakers had an opportunity to consider exceptions to the state’s near-total abortion ban. However, they rejected a proposal that would have permitted terminating a pregnancy conceived through incest and another that would have empowered parents to end a pregnancy after the diagnosis of a fatal fetal anomaly. These concerns, too, are not merely theoretical. 

USA Today reports that, before Dobbs, approximately one percent of American abortions were for pregnancies conceived through rape, whereas one-half of one percent were to terminate pregnancies conceived through incest. Those are small percentages but they represent significant human suffering. The same newspaper reported the findings of a highly esteemed medical journal that “there may have been more than 64,500 pregnancies resulting from rape in the 14 states that have enacted near-total abortion bans since Roe v. Wade was overturned in 2022.” 

Meanwhile, a study published in the American Journal of Obstetrics and Gynecology indicated that diagnosis of a fatal fetal anomaly is accurate more than ninety-nine percent of the time and that some two-thirds of people pregnant with these fetuses chose to terminate their pregnancies, mindful that the fetus was destined to die in utero or within the first four weeks after birth.

Different rabbinic authorities, studying the same sources, have come to different conclusions about the conditions under which Jewish law permits abortion. All agree, though, that the welfare of the pregnant person is the determining factor. A person who has been sexually abused should not be forced to carry their abuser’s crime with them for a lifetime. After receiving the diagnosis that a lovingly planned pregnancy has resulted in a fatal fetal anomaly, Arkansas law would compel the pregnant person to carry the pregnancy to term and then watch the baby die days later. Many would call that torture.

To be clear, pregnant people in a wide variety of circumstances—not all of them as horrifying as rape, incest, or a fatal fetal anomaly—need abortion care. Even though Jewish law permits only some abortions, American Jews do not expect that our religious requirements should be codified as laws of the United States or any state. With the First Amendment, we also oppose the imposition of abortion bans driven by other religious traditions, as is indisputably the case in Arkansas. Abortion bans are, quite literally, against our religion.

Now, Arkansans have the opportunity to sign petitions to place the Arkansas Abortion Amendment on the November ballot. That amendment would not reimpose Roe v. Wade on Arkansas in its purest form. It would “only” forbid the General Assembly from enacting any restriction on abortion in the first eighteen weeks of pregnancy and would require the state to permit later abortions in cases of threat to the pregnant person’s life, even absent an emergency, and also in cases of threat their physical health or subsequent to the diagnosis of a fatal fetal anomaly.

Arkansans for Limited Government, which has organized this effort, points to polling indicating that fifty-one percent of Arkansans support this return of limited abortion rights in Arkansas. The campaign will be hard-fought. Polling also indicated that an attempt to do even more would have little chance at success.

The Trustees of Congregation B’nai Israel have endorsed the Arkansas Abortion Amendment. Our congregation will be supporting this effort with petition drives and get-out-the-vote efforts.

We will not be alone. In my decades of advocacy for reproductive healthcare, I have learned that clergy and congregations can change the conversation from one in which religious groups uniformly oppose abortion to one that more accurately demonstrates that religious people are divided on the issue. To that end, I have invited local clergy to begin organizing a faith effort in support of the ballot initiative. The response is almost overwhelming, so many Presbyterian, Episcopal, Methodist, Lutheran, and Unitarian ministers are eager to be included. 

The Arkansas Abortion Amendment would legalize some ninety-nine percent of the abortions that were taking place in Arkansas before the Dobbs ruling. Moreover, the amendment would expand abortion access for people in parts of all six states that border Arkansas. Some say that it’s not enough. We will have to make a lot of compromises in this campaign. 

And, we must acknowledge, we will engage in this sacred endeavor to save lives and protect people’s dignity with the full knowledge that we may not win.

Our rabbis teach: Lo alecha ham’lacha ligmor. We cannot be required to complete the task, v’lo atah l’hibateil mimeina, but that is no excuse to desist from it.

We must not be lazy. God is knocking at our doors, urging us to act, for the welfare of every pregnant person who desperately needs abortion care in Arkansas.

Amen. 

The post Abortion in Torah and in Arkansas appeared first on Arkansas Strong.

Come to Arkansas and find seemingly contradictory values represented: hospitality and rugged individualism, grit and obedience, candor and a hefty dose of minding your own business. We are a beautiful collection of perspectives, wouldn’t you agree?

Arkansans are also stubbornly proud, especially in their mistrust of government. Rural Southerners have an especially unique skepticism of government intervention, which is as ingrained in us as the right to bear arms and looking out for your neighbors.  

But despite our diverse opinions and our indignation with nosy government, we have a problem standing up to overreach with one specific issue. Why? Well, it’s simply impolite to talk about certain things.

Chief among the “impolite” topics is the issue of reproductive freedom. In other words: abortion. Or women’s healthcare. Or murdering babies. Or the right to choose… depending on who you’re asking. 

Earlier this week, I read that the Arkansas Abortion Amendment was certified by the Attorney General. According to Arkansans for Limited Government, the group behind the Amendment’s effort to restore some abortion access in the state, politicians make for bad doctors. Regardless of how one feels about abortion, the group argues, we don’t need politicians regulating reproductive decisions. We don’t need government in the exam room, so to speak, regulating things as personal as pregnancy.

I cannot help but agree.

Regulating people’s healthcare, especially a woman’s organs, is not only a divergence from our cherished values of personal freedom and individual liberty but a stark example of burdensome—even deadly—government overreach. 

The notion of limited government has been etched into our consciousness and our traditions, but the regulation of reproductive healthcare challenges this ethos. It forces us to question whether a government that we already view with suspicion should extend its reach into the most private corners of our lives. 

Personal independence is not just a value, but a way of life in Arkansas, and interference should be seen as an affront to the principles that make us who we are—people in control of our own lives. Personal liberty means we alone decide our destiny. And we alone know what is best for ourselves and our families. 

The regulation of abortion is a logical paradox, even outside of a morality paradigm, because of its relevance to government overreach. And I’d like you to bear with me for a minute. I know it’s a polarizing issue; I’m not trying to change anyone’s mind about how they morally feel about abortion. What I’m aiming to do is reinvigorate a healthy skepticism of government.

I would never presume to know what is best for another person’s health or for the choices their family must make.

Now extend this to the Arkansas state government, which has proven that it  cannot be trusted on matters of the collective or individual good. When the government regulates our healthcare and steps into our doctors’ offices, the government undermines our trust, implying that the entity of the state knows better than we do when it comes to decisions about our own lives. This is antithetical to what it means to be an Arkansan—a self-reliant, responsible individual.

And speaking of responsibility: government overreach, well-intentioned as it may be, often brings about its own unintended consequences. In Arkansas, regulations disproportionately affect our rural communities. It is our duty to ensure that any policy reflects a commitment to fairness and justice for our rural communities rather than perpetuating already awful health disparities between urban dwellers and rural folk.

I’m not here to change minds on how people feel about abortion. Your judgment of the issue is yours, and yours alone. You are entitled to your opinion, and oftentimes, those opinions are rooted in compelling and valid experiences. 

No, this is not about changing minds. But it’s about keeping the government out of our homes and hospital rooms, out of conversations with our families and our doctors.

It’s not my business, or the government’s, to know the myriad of factors going into a person’s decision regarding the trajectory of their life. I don’t know if a person was raped. I don’t know if a person suffered a miscarriage. I don’t know if a family got a terrible diagnosis. 

The point is, I don’t know what’s best for you. 

The government doesn’t know either and it sure as hell doesn’t have any business telling people what’s good or right. That’s between them, their doctor, and the Good Lord above. 

Let’s get back to our Arkansas roots and keep government where it should be: out of our doctor’s office and back in the business of governing policy, not people’s lives. 

The post Mind your Biscuits: The Case Against Government Overreach in Arkansas appeared first on Arkansas Strong.

Ever since the reversal of Roe v. Wade, I have just felt a sinking in my soul. This has perplexed me because I am pro-life: I do believe that life begins at conception, and I have also volunteered at a crisis pregnancy ministry in their care center. I think that God has given me the burden of so many women who are terrified, indignant, or just angry at the ruling. I know also that this is a pivotal time for the church in the way Christians proceed from this place, and I fear and see that in many ways the response has not been Christ-like and may turn people away from Jesus.

The purpose of this writing is not to argue my position on Roe but to lay out a path for Christians in the light of Roe. The right to an abortion will now be decided by individual states. But the support and care of women in these situations is firmly in the hands of the church…or at least it needs to be.

In church recently, I was blessed to hear the testimonial from a young woman who at age 19 found herself with an unexpected pregnancy. Raised in a church and youth group, she knew that the last place that she could turn was her church as there would be no grace for her there. By the grace of God, she kept the baby with her life forever altered for the better. She cast a vision for how the church in the future could care for mothers in similar situations: Mentorship, grace, and community. Unfortunately, many churches offer none of these and instead focus on the shame. It is not difficult to figure out how Jesus would have responded to an unwed mother in crisis.

I have some first-hand experience with mentorship, grace and community. For 3 years, I volunteered at a crisis pregnancy center in Fayetteville, which is an amazing place, which seeks to support women who make the choice to have their baby. During the pregnancy, women would come to our clinic to watch videos about the birthing process. After pregnancy for 8 months, they would continue to come to learn more about child rearing. As a care counselor, I listened, prayed with our clients, formed relationships with them, and just loved them. Clients earned “mommy bucks” for coming, towards which they could use to purchase diapers and other child-related items that were donated to the cute store on site. Each and every week, we were all witnesses to the transformation of these women through the love of Christ.

There was one client who I was blessed to befriend. She was not married and definitely did not expect her pregnancy. She made the hard decision to keep the baby, separated from a huge group of unhealthy people, and began the process of making her life condusive and healthy to raising a child. After she graduated from our program, we continued to stay in touch. I would receive regular texts from her with questions about her then 1 year old. Sometimes she asked my advice about financial matters. Sometimes she had questions about God. Without question, God used this child to grow this woman up: To clean up her life, help her make better choices, buy a house, and begin down a road of faith. Her parents deceased, she regularly tells me that I am the one person she can count on in this life. It is an honor. She really doesn’t have anyone else pouring into her life except me. I feel like this is what I am called to do as a Christian: Not to lecture and not to shame but to support, love, and encourage.

My church is a financial sponsor of this pregnancy center, and some people choose to volunteer there. But their program often reaches capacity, and the timing on the classes doesn’t always fit people’s schedules. In this post-Roe world, I can imagine that these types of clinics are going to be busier than every. So instead of moping in my post-Roe funk, I have taken some positive steps within my own church to have a conversation about reaching out to women in crisis the way Jesus would. What if my church was where women with unplanned pregnancies came first? What if we could pair women with a mentor for support and to walk along-side them? Could we help women in crisis to find community that would truly transform their lives? Are we qualified or trained? Heavens no. Have we raised our own kids and have a heart for others? Absolutely. And are we willing to shower women with the same grace that we have received in our own lives? The possibilities are limitless.

To me, this is the correct definition of pro-life: Valuing the life of a fetus as we walk along-side and love the new mother and child. Are there other systemic issues that need to be addressed. Absolutely. The list is long from paid maternity leave, affordable child-care, and quality and available childcare. None of these should be political issues, and I call upon Congress as well as the General Assembly to tackle each and every one if them in single-issue bills without other amendments attached. I would venture to say that any politician that opposes abortion but is not willing to make the systemic changes is a hypocrite and does not deserve to have a voice on this issue.

I know that there are many other thorny issues related to abortion such as the life of the mother, rape, and incest. Legislators who have made policy without accurate medical information or considered the social/emotional/financial concerns of new mothers have not made good laws: They have simply imposed their views on others without taking care of women and children the way Christ would have. Furthermore, the dogmatic approach that does not address these issues is generating anger and resentment towards the church and Christians.

In closing, my heart is a little less heavy now that I know what I can do to help. I know that I am called to serve and to love. It is a good place to be. The storm is undoubtedly going to continue to rage around this issue. I am going to do what God has shown me to do, and I would be honored if you would create a movement where you live to support women and children in Arkansas. Arkansans, we are likely to have a bunch more babies in the coming year! Who will be Jesus in the flesh and walk alongside these neighbors. The answer is not someone else’s mirror: It is in your own.

The post Possibilites appeared first on Arkansas Strong.

Part of it is certainly personal. As I have written elsewhere, Syd and I decided to end a pregnancy after it was found that our baby had anencephaly. He had and would have no brain. We were offered options and chose the option to induce labor. It was heart-wrenching and right for us. If we were in that situation today, we would have no options other than to wait until the baby was born, and if born able to breathe, wait for him to die. Those who don’t know us and exhibit little to no compassion for us would have made the decision for us. 

I think, too, of a teenage girl I once met as a social worker. She was not able to speak and had limited movement due to significant developmental impairments. It eventually became clear physically that she was the victim of significant sexual abuse. I remember thinking to myself that if I did nothing else in my professional life, being a part of the effort that helped protect her from further abuse would justify my career. She thankfully was not pregnant, but a girl in her situation today in Arkansas who was pregnant because of sexual abuse and assault would have to go through pregnancy and have a baby. Where is the justice and mercy for such a girl in that?

But it’s more than personal experience that fuels my distress, although that would be enough. I think it’s also connected to how I think about the world. The assumptions I make, conscious or not, and the beliefs I have about people that are challenged. 

Here’s one assumption: I was born in 1962, and in my lifetime there has been uneven but persistent progress in equality and justice in areas of race, gender, sexual orientation, and gender identity. Historically, the pace and quality of progress has been breathtaking. It has not been simple or easy, and we are far from a place to rest and be satisfied, but it has been significant, life-affirming, and life-saving. It has also contributed to a backlash as hard-earned rights and benefits are now being taken away. This abortion decision is the most recent and perhaps audacious example but it fits in spirit with recent efforts to take away medical care from trans youth. Purposely causing harm and human suffering in service to another value or principle which undermines the full humanity of those harmed. Separating immigrant children from their parents is another recent example. 

To be honest, I expected and expect resistance to progress in areas of social justice. However, the amount of dismay I am experiencing lets me know that deep inside I didn’t expect that we would so consciously and aggressively go backwards. I don’t want to live in a place of cynicism and expect nothing but the worst from others, but the assumption of progress that my lifetime had led me to expect is changing, must change. How much remains to be seen as I search for a reformed narrative. 

I realize, at least to some degree, that a factor in my distress is my privilege. I have not lived in the world as a victim of trauma or violence. And I am a middle-age, white, straight, Christian man and not part of a historically marginalized or mistreated group in this country. I have benefitted from the benefit of the doubt from others more often than not. This has certainly impacted how I make sense of the world. My life experience has suggested that it was reasonable to expect better from people and the government than this. For so many others, that is not the lesson in their life experiences. 

I have tried to live giving others the benefit of the doubt regarding their intentions—trying to assume good intention until proven otherwise. This has been a helpful stance most of the time. In my experience, most people most of the time are trying to figure out the “right” thing to do, to do “good.” How we define “right” and “good” is very subjective, of course, and often self-serving, and no one I know is above self-interest bias in this area. 

In a world where elected and appointed leaders appear increasingly more blatantly interested in power and control, willing to rationalize immoral behavior and devise rationales to safe-guard self-righteousness on a grand scale despite the human costs, how much of this “assumption of good intentions” approach can I maintain? It need not be an all-or-nothing, either/or approach. The Good Book says to be as wise as serpents and innocent as doves. I’m feeling the need for some re-calibrating, but like most people with their assumptions and beliefs, I would rather not. 

Even if I believe in someone’s good intentions, what happens when their judgment is not good? What does it mean to lose faith in the good intentions of leaders, institutions, and courts—all fallible human endeavors? And what does it mean to grant that someone or some group may honestly want and seek “the good” but that “good” is a human disaster for others? And little to no compassion is expressed or demonstrated for those harmed?  Extreme but contemporary example: the Taliban’s treatment of women and those who disagree in Afghanistan. What does it mean and matter if they are sincere in their beliefs that they are doing the right thing when what is done causes so much harm? 

Growing up, I was taught that the United States was the best country in the world with more freedoms than any other. We were founded on ideals of liberty and equality and defended ourselves throughout history as freedom isn’t free. The country and religious tradition in which I was born and grew up were not in need of major reforms. Perhaps some tinkering around the edges. The big concern was that others did not agree with us and needed to be converted to our way of thinking and living. Individually we were flawed but that was because we didn’t live up to the requirements of our faith and country.  

My adult experience has been a continual adjustment to those worldviews. American history is much more complex and morally complicated as is my religious faith tradition. Both my country and my faith tradition have caused great harm to others with acts of self-serving rationalizations and self-righteousness. Both have also served the greater good and the greater community. There are strengths on which to build and areas of needed repentance. What it means to be a good American and a good person of faith continues to evolve. 

Which brings me back to the present, to today. For most of my life there has been an increased grappling with how we as a people—American people and people of faith—have fallen short and what is needed to make things better if not make things right. But today feels different. It feels like those who have resisted past reforms are saying, “Enough! We know better and we will use all the levers at our disposal to ensure that our version of morality—which serves the historic status quo and hierarchy of whose votes count most, which is mostly us—prevails. We will make the rules that all must follow even if we are in the minority. We will exploit the natural unfairness in our political system and change the rules, if needed, for our benefit. We will tell ourselves that we are saving our culture and country, and because the stakes are so high, we will be justified in whatever means are necessary to achieve those ends.”

Is this a proper and fair reading of the situation? Would those with whom I disagree feel justified in using the same or similar language to criticize my stances? And if so, what does or should that mean?

Seven years ago, the Supreme Court ruled that same-sex marriage is legal and “my side” rejoiced. It was amazing and inspiring. With this decision, what else might be possible for the cause of justice? Nevertheless, for others this was a moral disaster and a harbinger that the country was on a downward spiral.  

Today the script is flipped. For those agreeing with the Supreme Court’s decision on abortion, there is reason to rejoice. It is amazing and inspiring. With this decision, what else might be possible for the cause of justice? Nevertheless, for others (on my side), this is a moral disaster and a harbinger that the country is on a downward spiral. 

The similarities in responses suggest we share a common humanity and not that the decisions were morally equivalent. Humans from different perspectives seek purpose to give their lives meaning and direction. Opposing sides want to “take back our country” but what this language means for each side is very different. 

So, in a search for a new narrative and amidst all the grief and questioning, here is what I believe today, open to be revised tomorrow:

• The present situation is heartbreaking, distressing, and enraging. These emotions come from feelings of loss, disorientation, and fear of losing more. All are real and appropriate to the situation.
• Some assumptions, beliefs, and perspectives will need to change. But not all. Time is needed to sort through in a thoughtful way. 
• The story is not over, even when it feels that way. The story can change and will change. I and we can be part of that change. 
• Change often, usually, takes a long time. “Tipping point” changes are the culmination of a long process. 
• This sucks.
• People can be enormously creative and persistent when they have meaning and purpose. The vision of a more compassionate and just world provides more than adequate meaning and purpose.
• We are called to be faithful, not victorious. We have reaped the harvest of the faithfulness of those who have come before, and we can plant seeds for generations to come. 
• No one gets to choose how and what I think, what I value, and how I find meaning and purpose. And this is true for you, too.
• Those of us who feel dismayed are not alone. In many ways, we are the majority. We are not without assets and support. 
• “Grace bats last.” Thank you, Anne Lamott.  

The post In Search of a Narrative appeared first on Arkansas Strong.

I know almost nothing about my biological mother’s life when I was conceived, born, or since. It seems clear that she did not want and/or was not ready to be a parent, but beyond that I have no idea what she went through while she carried me. I have absolutely no idea what was going through her mind the last moment she ever saw me – presumably minutes or hours after I was born. Was she loved and supported? Was she shunned and shamed?

When I was conceived, was she a carefree teenager that made a casual or(along with the man) reckless decision? Was she lied to by a deceitful and/or cowardly boyfriend that just wanted sex? Was…she the victim of rape? 

Was her decision to allow me life and give me up to others an obvious decision that she never debated or was it a source of agony in her life? Is it still? Did she feel doubt about her decision once she saw me… or later? Was it made out of love or fear or pragmatism…or some incomprehensible human combination? 

I don’t know the answers to any of these questions. I probably never will. 

I think about all this….and in total honesty I’m selfishly just so glad that I’m here. I’m so, so, so indescribably thankful that my son is here. Given that, it is so easy and so tempting to extend that to all situations that seem just like mine – to argue that we should always give a new life a chance regardless of the situation – no conditions, no nuance. That logic and the powerful emotions that come with it pull at me right this very second as I type these words. 

Some of you may seize on my story – and particularly the shining light of my incredible son that lights up your news feed now and again – and say, “That’s it. Why would we ever stop THAT from happening?” It’s an understandable question on the surface. If I knew, or even though it remotely likely that every story or even most would be like mine – or anything even close to it – that might be it for me. Yet all I do know for sure is that we CANNOT know – much less manage – the countless situations that lead to the consideration of abortion or the lives – of mother and child – that follow. 

I wish more than anything that we lived in a world where this discussion started and ended with the humanity, honesty and love. Sadly, that’s not the world we are living in, and not the tactics that lead to political gain for too many people that make our laws or sell us stories on TV. This profound issue has become slogans and memes in our public discussion – and it will continue to be treated as such by most in power. Yet, it is still the way in which we can each choose to engage each other, and how we can support the women in our lives that have faced – and will face in the future – this decision. Make no mistake, whatever laws are enacted or repealed, abortion will occur in this country – the question is whether it will be accessible to all who need it or just those who have the power, resources and/or luck to quietly acquire it….

My own opinion…the world I hope and work for is this: 

I want a world where abortion is rarely necessary or sought. I’ve made a few of my progressive friends angry when I’ve said that publicly (most of them agree with me though). And I make my many of my conservative friends angry or at least disappointed when I say that I believe we must trust women to make this decision for themselves – free from any scorn or stigma – alongside any loved and trusted humans that they choose to involve. I don’t believe in or want casual abortion but I do believe that our best path in this world is to surround women with the best knowledge, resources and truly accessible options and then trust them to make the best decisions they can given their personal situation. A legislature in Little Rock, Washington or anywhere else should not make that call for them.

If we want to come together in a way that we rarely seem to do today as a country, there are immediate ways to do it that will prevent more abortions than any law could ever hope to stop – without violating any woman’s dignity or control over her body and future. 

Let’s ensure all our children know about the realities of sex, and that when they engage in it they have the knowledge and the resources to do so safely -protected from disease or premature parenthood. If you believe it is important for your children to attempt to wait until marriage, more power to you – but I believe the most loving parents hope for and nurture what they believe to be the best ideals in their children while preparing them to navigate less ideal situations in life when the ideal isn’t met. 

Let’s make adoption a loving, easy, safe and respected path for those that chose it (birth parents and adoptive parents). 

And when the worst of life’s events happen – a rape, incest, a life-threatening condition in a pregnancy, or the all too often shunned, afraid, pregnant child or teenager, or the abused and isolated girlfriend or wife – let’s make sure that those involved have easy access – no matter their zip code or income level – to compassionate, competent people that can provide her options and the support she ultimately chooses. 

That’s where I wish we were, what I hope we can work towards.

_{Jared Henderson is a husband and father who once ran for governor of Arkansas. He went to Harvard, worked for NASA, and came home to invest his life and raise his family. He is from Springdale, and now lives in Little Rock.}

The post Where I Wish We Were appeared first on Arkansas Strong.

I was inspired by your article today to write a note to you. I don’t usually do this sort of thing; I try to ignore politics since I hate it so much!  However, I find myself wanting to let you know how much I agree with you.  I’m neither conservative nor liberal – I’m pretty much in the middle, but I seldom find anyone else in that position.  There’s always another way to look at things, I believe, and we should always consider the other side (which doesn’t seem to be a common practice in this time). For instance, I am a devout Catholic who firmly believes that abortion is sinful.  I would never consider it myself and hope my children are the same. (I’ve had eight pregnancies and 9 children with my husband of 60 years who died in 2013.)

However, an experience I had as an assistant principal at Pine Bluff High School in the 60’s caused me to consider the other side.  My office had a sweet, smart, young girl as our monitor – 15 years old and a sophomore.  One afternoon as she was walking home from school, she was accosted by a man in the alley as she passed and was raped.  Humiliated and ashamed, she told no one, not even her mother.  Later on, she missed her period and told her math teacher in tears.  I drove her to the lab where her pregnancy was confirmed.

When we got back to the high school, I called her mother who promptly picked her up and took her for an abortion.  I hate to say it, but I was immensely relieved, because her life as she expected it was not ruined by this criminal experience.  Ever since then, I have hoped for another way to address this situation for others, and even though Catholic, I cannot protest for the complete end to abortion. 

I have been retired from education for 18 years and so grateful! Thank you for reading this email!

I so appreciate her perspective. It’s remarkable to me for many reasons. This person—a moderate, or centrist—feels like she is alone in the middle of the political spectrum. She’s elderly, married 60 years in 2013. A mother of 9. Devout Catholic. Highly educated; her signature included a doctorate. Retired educator. She witnessed this tragic thing in the 60s, before abortion would have been legal in Arkansas. Roe v Wade was decided in 1973.

I can relate to feeling lonely in the middle, although I believe there are many more of us than anyone realizes. I can relate to being married a long time, though not 60 years yet, and having a lot of children, though a lot for me is four. I can also relate to having spiritual reasons for hating abortion and believing I could not emotionally survive it myself.

As a fellow educator I understand seeing things, bearing witness at times to intimate details of people’s lives. My students have taught me a great deal about worlds as foreign to me, personally, as another planet: the worlds of poverty, abuse, and crime; worlds with very little agency or access or options. It is in my role as a teacher that I am constantly confronted with the heartbreaking nuances of things that might otherwise, from my limited experience, seem black or white.

We need this woman’s story. We need people like her at the table in Arkansas, weighing in on how we make policies that affect our citizens. We need the wisdom of her age and experience as an individual, mother, and school administrator.

The vision of Arkansas Strong is to amplify voices like hers. May this be the place all voices in Arkansas are heard. May this be the place this reader is not alone, but brings her unique strengths and finds others who strengthen her. May we be the table set for everyone to gather, together, and make Arkansas Strong.

The post Come to the Table appeared first on Arkansas Strong.

Baby Kerry

After our daughter Lora turned two, we decided that it was time to try for a second baby. We were fortunate and it wasn’t too many months later when the pregnancy test came back positive and we began planning the bedroom for child number two. Lora was a book lover and we had these illustrated children’s books based on the books by Laura Ingalls Wilder. Each one started with listing the members of the family—Pa, Ma, Mary, Laura, Baby Kerry and their good ol’ bulldog, Jack. As the pregnancy developed, Lora started referring to the baby growing in Mommy’s tummy as “Baby Kerry” and we often did the same.

Not quite midway through the pregnancy, my wife called me at work on a Thursday morning passing on a worrisome report from her doctor. Her maternal alpha fetal protein level was high—so high that the doctor wanted to repeat the test to check the accuracy of the results. I was in a pediatric oncology treatment team meeting where I filled the role of social worker. After the meeting, I contacted the medical library at the hospital where I worked to get some articles about what could happen with an elevated maternal alpha fetal protein level.

Us Among Them

The repeated level came back even higher and over the weekend we read the articles and were not comforted. The articles talked of neural tube defects, significant disabilities and even death of the baby. My wife and I were already challenged with living examples of what can go wrong in the development of a child in our jobs. Each month I met three or four new children diagnosed with cancer and my wife worked as a teacher in a preschool for children with a wide array of disabilities. Now we wondered if we would be joining the club of parents of children with disabilities or life-threatening illnesses. Would it now be “us” among the “them”?

Monday came and we moved to the next step of a level II ultrasound. I stared at the blurry screen looking for signs of anything. My wife could not see the screen but she could see tears in the eyes of the ultrasound technician who watched the screen and left the room to get the doctor. After looking himself, he assured us we had done nothing wrong but that our baby had anencephaly—our baby had and would have no brain and this condition was obviously not compatible with life. Our options were three—dilation and curettage, inducing labor and then delivery or continuing the pregnancy to term. We went home in shock, cried together and called our families and friends. The next day my wife began to have physical complications and we chose to induce labor and deliver.

I Know Why You’re Here

Wednesday night we packed and prepared to go to the hospital and we searched for words to explain to now three-year-old Lora about what was happening. We told her that the baby was sick and the doctor needed to get the baby out of Mommy’s tummy anticipating that the post-hospital conversation would be that the baby was too sick and the baby died.

Our pastor came to the house and we all sat on the floor with a few friends as she prayed with us and anointed our heads with oil and blessings for the experience to come. Arriving at the hospital on a cold winter night, I left my wife in our room and went down to complete admissions paperwork. In the elevator, a stranger saw me as a young man in a hospital where many babies are born and said to me, “I know why you’re here.” I tried to smile and nodded but thought, “You have no idea why I’m here.”

Song of Faith

Baby Kerry was born late the next morning. We didn’t know if it would be a boy or a girl but agreed that either way the name would fit (although the spelling would change). He was as big as my hand, burgundy colored with perfect hands and feet and missing a brain. As my wife took her well-earned sleep, I rocked and sang him songs that I had sung to our daughter—songs of faith that I had learned from my parents and grandmother.

His lungs were not developed enough for him to breathe but his tiny heart was beating and did so for about an hour and a half. Against my tendencies and history, the tears flowed freely as we shared our brief time together. I knew that there could be someone like me (in my professional life) in this hospital—someone who was called when bad things happened—but I did not want to share this experience and thankfully no one came.

Wonder in the Making

Kerry was cremated and we spread his ashes in the memorial garden at our church following a memorial service Sunday afternoon. Winter weather and icy roads almost kept family away but they made it to stand by and give witness. My wife and I read from a book of prayers in the service and asked that a baptismal song be sung. “See this wonder in the making, God’s ownself this child is taking…”

I heard this song again when I was back to work in the hospital. My family loved music and my parents knew many songs. Growing up it became habit to come up with a song to fit whatever was happening at the time. It was like continuously living in a musical. When I returned to the hospital, I was on call one night when a baby died. When the family expressed a desire for pictures to be taken of the baby, I walked down the hall and stairs to get the camera.

On my way back to their room, I became aware of the baptismal song playing in my head and I wondered how long it had been there. It reminded me of the dark humor of my unconscious when Kerry was born—then the song that came unbidden was from the Wizard of Oz as the scarecrow sings, “…if I only had a brain…”

Everything Reminds Us of Baby Kerry

In the spring, we planted a tree in the backyard in Kerry’s memory. While planting the tree I explained to Lora that the tree would remind us of Baby Kerry. Lora replied matter-of-factly, “Everything reminds us of Baby Kerry.”

Kerry was cremated and we spread his ashes in the memorial garden at our church following a memorial service Sunday afternoon. Winter weather and icy roads almost kept family away but they made it to stand by and give witness. My…
Click To Tweet

It’s been twelve years since we said hello and goodbye in the same breath to Baby Kerry. Each year Lora and her four-year-younger brother, Noah, help put Snow Babies ornaments on the Christmas tree in Kerry’s memory. When someone asks how many children we have, I almost always answer “two” but in my mind, I’m thinking “two and a half.”

Not too long ago Lora asked if Kerry had lived would we have had Noah. Her memories of Kerry are few and fuzzy but her experience of Noah has been deep and affectionate. I replied that we had planned to have two children and so it was unlikely that we would have had more than two. She thought about this and replied that maybe it was a good thing, then, for otherwise we wouldn’t have Noah. Sometimes I wonder the same thing.

The post Everything Reminds Us of Baby Kerry (March for Life, Part II) appeared first on Arkansas Strong.

This is long and personal and about abortion—the termination of a pregnancy. Just so you know.

On a recent weekend in Arkansas and across the US, there were “Marches for Life” against abortion. It was also the 26th anniversary of one of the saddest and most painful times in the lives of Syd and me, as we held a memorial service for the baby we lost in mid-pregnancy. We lost the baby at that time because we chose to induce labor and birth before 20 weeks of pregnancy, before viability. We chose this because our baby’s life was not viable. He had anencephaly, which meant he developed without a brain. No brain, no viability, no survival, no life.

We were given the legal and medical options about how to respond to this situation, and for physical and mental health reasons, we chose the option to induce labor and birth. Legislators and the governor in Arkansas, seemingly a majority of the US Supreme Court, and those “marching for life” that weekend would all take away the choice that we made, the choice that was right for us and our family. These issues are personal for us.

I remember the first time I really confronted the issue of abortion. I was working as a medical social worker with a young couple whose baby was slowing dying from the consequences a fatal genetic condition. It was heartbreaking. In the midst of this experience over weeks and months, they discovered they were pregnant with a significant risk of this next baby having the same fatal genetic condition. I remember thinking that, if asked, there was no way that I or anyone else could tell them what the right thing to do was for them in their situation. This choice was appropriately theirs to make.

Over time, I’ve done much more thinking about the complexities of the choices surrounding abortion, and I could never join those “marching for life.” I do join them in wanting there to be fewer abortions, as I think most people from across the spectrum of opinions do. Most, if not all, abortions are human tragedies on some scale, and we should want to minimize human tragedies when we can. The question is how.

We actually know how to significantly reduce the number of abortions—provide more support for protected sex. This is where the most common anti-abortion stance breaks down for me. In it, all abortion or terminations of pregnancy are considered the killing of innocent life and the prevention of such killing should supersede all other considerations, often including the life and health of the one pregnant and whether or not the girl or woman was a victim of rape or incest. Strikingly, however, this concern for preventing the perceived killing of innocent life does not supersede the concern that more people will have protected sex. If protecting the killing of innocent life supersedes all concerns, then we should use every tool at our disposal to reduce abortions, which would mean more comprehensive sex education and accessible contraception, proven methods for avoiding pregnancy and reducing abortions. More sex education and accessible contraception are not, however, being advocated by most of those “marching for life,” and in fact, they are often vigorously resisted. As noted by many other observers, this stance suggests that opposition to abortion is twisted up in a sometimes greater opposition to people, especially women, having protected sex. Not an ethical approach that I can support.

I do wonder what that weekend’s marchers and speakers would say to Syd and me about our own human tragedy, the choices we made 26 years ago, and the choices they hope to take away for parents like us in the future. Part of me, frankly, feels indignation. How dare they take away our options for what would be best for our family. What good really would come from such restrictions for parents and families like us? For society? I don’t expect that people like us are much in the minds of the weekend’s marchers. Perhaps we just don’t fit the black and white, either/or thinking that will be proposed and cheered. Syd confronted an anti-abortion street protester with our story a few years ago. He wouldn’t believe that she was telling a true story. It didn’t fit his narrative. But our story was and is tragically true. And it was and is so sad. And it was right for us. If this right, at all levels, is taken away, it will be a huge preventable tragedy for so many families.

Part II to follow

The post March for Life appeared first on Arkansas Strong.

This the story of the birth of my firstborn child, who changed my life forever. I brought him into the world. But he, and his siblings after him, are the ones who give me life.

First was the pregnancy; the doctor told me that if I did not give birth to him by my due date, I would be induced. My life was rapidly changing, an I was not prepared for what was going to come next.

On August 29, 2014, with my due date 2 days away, I felt I was nowhere near labor. I went on a trip with my family: my stepmom, dad, and stepsister. I was very pregnant and very miserable. We went to a casino called Buffalo Run in Miami, Oklahoma.

My dad told me to go to the heated indoor pool to see if that would progress my labor. So, I went with my stepsister. I did not swim. I was too pregnant and huge to swim without being in pain. We were the only ones in the pool—we went back to the room a few hours later, and I got a shower after swimming (or shall I say walking around in the chlorine indoor heated pool). I took a long shower. I was in a lot of pain, but I didn’t know what was going on with my body. My parents were in the casino and returned very late.

We had two beds in our room, my stepsister and I in one and my dad and stepmom in another. I could not get comfortable. I tossed and turned all night, hurting. My dad watched me. He was worried about me. I was in labor but didn’t know it. We waited from 2 AM till we could call the doctor first thing in the morning. I was scared. I was not ready for my life to change so fast.

At 7 AM my dad called my doctor. He said he thought I was in labor and described to the doctor how far apart my contractions were. I was calm but scared. We hurried and got all packed, and in the car they helped me get all of my stuff because I was in active labor. We got on the road with a long drive ahead of us.

On the way leaving Miami, we stopped at McDonald’s. Mom said, “You better get some food. You won’t be able to eat.” I was having contractions between trying to talk to her from the third seat of our GMC Acadia.

An hour and a half later we arrived at the hospital. We went straight to Labor and Delivery. I had to fill out paperwork while in labor. I hurried and filled it out. When I finally got in a room, they hooked me up to monitors and checked me. I was already 4 centimeters dilated. I was having strong contractions. They gave me pain meds and got me prepped to have a natural birth.

I progressed in labor all the way. I was told I could have two people in the room, so I chose my dad and one of his grandmas. At ten centimeters it was time to push. I could not feel a thing. I pushed as hard as I could with my dad right by my side. It seemed like I pushed forever. Then things changed. I could not tell if there was an emergency or not; I was so numb and relaxed on pain medication. I was told it was time for a Caesarian section. I did not know why I was having one, and I was scared. I wanted my dad with me—that’s the last thing I remember before I was out. I woke up in a room after surgery and told my son was born: a 7-pound, 8-ounce boy, 18 and ½ inches long. It was 8:40 PM. I named him Phoenix.

Phoenix was the reason my life changed for good, from being only a person to a mom. I was not completely ready for the huge change. I was now a single mother of a newborn. But I was happy when I finally got to see my baby. I came to realize a lot in a short few days I was in the hospital. I was nervous, scared, and mostly worried I would not be the best mom.

The birth of my firstborn son is the biggest memory I have, and I will never forget it. It changed my life forever. This was the best moment of my life. I went from being alone to having my own baby.

Since then I have had 2 more babies, Emma and Jasper. I always wanted 4 considering I was the only child; I wanted a big family of my own. As a very busy mom I go to class, work second shift at Butterball, and take care of my kids. We have had our ups and downs, but that makes us who we are. We don’t have much family anymore. I prefer my children are not hurt more than they have to be; being a mother, I have to protect my kids at all costs. As long as my kids are happy I am happy.

I will never turn my back on my kids. I will break the cycle and be the mom they need.
Click To Tweet

I love being a mom. I love my kids. I hope they will always come to me when they need something. I hope I can be the best mom and they grow older and come home a lot. I hope being the strong mom I have to be—even through my own battles—will mean that they will never turn away and will always love me, as much as I love them. Us women were meant to bear children and watch them grow. I love seeing my kids grow and learn new things each and every day, but I also hate that they are growing up so fast.

Being a mother is rewarding. I could be having the worst day possible and a simple hug or smile lights up my day. Or a cuddle watching TV, or looks I get from the baby when he tries to laugh the laughter of the bigger kids playing, to the sick kids just wanting Mom. All of this makes me feel like I am a good mom to my kids, even when I do not feel like I am enough for these babies, and I wish I could do a lot more. I hope as a mother I don’t disappoint my kids, knowing we don’t have much money to go and do stuff, and I hope they are happy with the small gifts I can get them. I never got to have the childhood they do, and I am on a mission to raise them better than how I was raised. I will never turn my back on my kids. I will break the cycle and be the mom they need.

Being a mother is a huge responsibility. I have been through a lot as a mom. I have struggled with nothing, to even more bad stuff, but never once did my kids go without. Mothering the kids is a chore, but being the best mom I can be and loving them is the best thing, and only thing, I ever wanted to do in my life.

The post The Best Thing: Mothering my Kids appeared first on Arkansas Strong.

In 37 or so simple stories and a few sermons, Jesus paints a picture of the kingdom of God. We can call this picture The Gospel Story. His parables and sermons hold together. They have the ring of truth. They have a power that’s nowhere else. Jesus had what Simon Peter called “the words of eternal life.”

I grew up knowing the parables of Jesus before I knew much else. That’s because my father was a pastor. He preached every Sunday—and twice on most Sundays because we had Sunday night worship. Every time my father preached, I was there. Dad had a great love for Jesus’s parables. Well over half of his sermons were on the words of Jesus. I heard them over and over. I don’t remember getting tired of them because they opened to me a world that I loved—and I still love it.

Being a follower of Jesus is all about being a good neighbor.
Click To Tweet

One of Dad’s favorites was the parable of the Good Samaritan, a story that demonstrated the meaning of being a good neighbor. This theme of neighborliness ran all thru Jesus’s teachings. It was in the story of the Rich Man and Lazarus…. the parable of the Great Judgment in Matt. 25…. the parable of the Rich Young Ruler… and the never-changing Golden Rule. These teachings and many others say that being a follower of Jesus is all about being a good neighbor.

Ears to Hear

In 1998 I attended a seminar that George Barna (a religious researcher) led at a church in Tulsa. Barna said two things that have stuck with me. First, his research has determined that fewer than 10% of Christians have a biblical world view. Think about that! Every week millions of professing Christians attend worship, sit thru Sunday school lessons, and engage in other religious observances, yet the vast majority of them have never really heard the Gospel Story. It has not taken root as a guiding force in their lives.

Second, Barna’s investigations into the ethical behavior of American Christians have revealed that conservative evangelicals (the group with which Barna himself identifies) are no more moral than the rest of society. That is, evangelicals are guilty of marital infidelity, substance abuse, domestic violence, and an array of other misdeeds at about the same rate as everyone else. In fact, in categories such as divorce their behavior is worse than average.

Barna’s findings seem to go together. A huge number of evangelicals, despite their loudly proclaimed religious allegiances, have never really heard the Gospel Story. It certainly isn’t the guiding force in their lives.

Good and Godly Neighbors

A good measure of any religion should be: What kind of neighbors does it create? Sadly, Christians have all too often not been good neighbors. In fact, there is much to suggest that way too many of today’s church people are very bad neighbors.

We can see this by looking at many of the state legislators in our nation who are passing measures that hurt people. The vast majority of these legislators are self-proclaimed Christians who claim to be doing God’s will. The test of this should be in how their actions affect others.

In about half of our states one of the biggest activities at present is gerrymandering. Its aim in almost all cases is very clear. It’s to minimize the voting strength of minorities and maximize the strength of the legislators and their political party. It’s to gain unfair political advantage. When such forces of racism and partisanship appear in society, it’s a sure sign that very bad neighbors are hard at work.

The banning of abortion is the really feel good issue among our legislators. They beam with satisfaction that they are “pro-life,” and they try to outdo each other in being the most pro-life. What they are doing in a great many cases is victimizing some of the most vulnerable people in our society. They show no sign of understanding the highly complicated physiology of pregnancy and childbirth. Some girls are pre-teen when they become pregnant. There are reports of pregnancy as early as age 9, and of course this is always under very undesirable circumstances. In many cases legislators don’t want to allow for any circumstances of pregnancies. They want to saddle women with 100% of the burden of every pregnancy. The men, who are equal partners in conception, often disappear into the night and never shoulder any responsibility. Many legislators want to enact the harshest penalties against pregnant women and their caregivers if they don’t obey their draconian laws. They want to strip women of any say in their healthcare and become dictators to medical professionals. Yes, we actually have neighbors who want to treat us this way.

The legislators about whom we’re talking (church people, remember), have more ambitions. They want to intrude into the lives of LGBTQ people. Once again, they act out of a combination of ignorance and mean spiritedness and with the smug assurance that they possess all truth and are on God’s side. They seek to block trans youth from receiving the medical care they so desperately need, and they want to discriminate against people on account of sexual orientation. Sadly, they have an insufficient knowledge of sexual orientation and of the Bible. They frequently quote the 6 or so passages in the Bible that appear to deal with same-gender sexual behavior. This matter is not as clear cut as they think. These passages present difficulties of interpretation that many Bible scholars have lifted up.

All Who Are Weary

One such scholar is David P. Gushee, who grew up among conservative evangelicals and became a Southern Baptist pastor. Gushee embarked on a long academic career and earned a Ph.D. in ethics. For many years he was not sympathetic to LGBTQ causes, but over time his views shifted due to his deepening knowledge of the Bible and the many personal relationships he formed. In 2014 he published Changing Our Mind, in which he broke with his earlier views and argued for full acceptance of LGBTQ Christians in the church. Gushee became convinced that these 6 passages in the Bible have been widely misinterpreted, and he deals with them point by point in his book. Gushee’s thought is readily accessible on YouTube. If you enter a search for his name, up will pop lots of lectures, sermons, and interviews that he has given over the years. Of special interest is his 11 minute talk, “You’re Hurting Me With Your Bible.” He details the journey has made on LGBTQ issues in the 34 minute lecture he gave at Elon University 6 years ago.

LGBTQ issues have been highly divisive among Christians. In recent years four of the larger mainline denominations have decided to fully accept LGBTQ people. It was a rocky journey in which these churches lost lots of members over the issue. The vast majority of churches in America continue to stigmatize and marginalize LGBTQ people in a variety of ways. Religiously affiliated people are significantly less accepting of LGBTQ people than are the rest of the population. This nonacceptance is highly concentrated in the more conservative religious groups.

Good Neighbors Show Grace

LGBTQ people share predictable struggles. They react to disapproval like we all do. They sometimes try to change. They ride a roller coaster of emotions as they try to come to terms with who they are (this was not a choice, remember) while knowing that they can never become what others wish them to be. They suffer from depression and thoughts of suicide. They dread the time of coming-out and being rejected. At the time of their greatest vulnerability, when they need good neighbors the most, they often don’t find them in their church or in their legislators or even in their families.

We could cover other controversial issues that involve similar dynamics. That’s because far too few people who occupy the pews in our churches have really heard the Gospel Story. Jesus’s message of extravagant love, acceptance, and grace is not the force that drives them. Their behavior is no more moral or commendable than the behavior of religiously non-affiliated people. In fact, it’s often worse. They are not good neighbors. They hurt other people, especially the most vulnerable. The most astounding thing of all is that they do what they do in the name of God.

Sandy Wylie is a retired United Methodist pastor living in Bella Vista.

The post Wanted: Good Neighbors appeared first on Arkansas Strong.