The Judge Report

Well, I’m going to bed without a draft yet for home town hero Josh Beekman.

If character still counts in the NFL (see Fred Thompson on the subject) there should be a fine niche for this scholar/athlete outstanding young man.

For his father’s sake (who refused to miss a single game the kid has ever played), I hope he lands somewhere in the northeast.  You know, somewhere within a reasonable driving distance in case the old man has access to extra game tickets for his special friends.

And if the lad didn’t have enough going for him already, turns out he shares a birthday with the host of The Judge Report.

But then, so does Mike Tyson.

[UPDATE: CHICAGO BEARS, round 4, pick #130]

Pardon me if I’m not dancing in the streets over yesterday’s Supreme Court ruling in Gonzales v. Carhart.
Not that I disagree with the decision. It’s ok as far as it goes, which is not too far.  All it says is that this particular statute, which seeks to ban a medical procedure by which a fully-developed viable unborn child is yanked feet-first through the birth canal until its head is locked in the cervix, whereupon its skull is pierced and brains vacuumed out until, presumably, death occurs, is not UNCONSTITUTIONAL on its face.

It still might be unconstitutional in some cases, of course, and there are other, unbanned, methods available  which would allow for the same result, so what’s the big deal suggests the majority, while the shrill voices of the dissenters (and ALL the candidates for president in the party of Jefferson) are left kicking and screaming like, well, a new-born baby.

Roe v. Wade was fairly new when I was in law school and even the most radical left-wing card-carrying-member-of-the-ACLU law professor wasn’t convinced it was good law, nor good policy.  I remember him explaining the “viability” issue left open by the court.  (You may recall that Roe divided a baby into three trimesters and declared that no regulation could take place for the first trimester, some for the second, and then marked the beginning of the third trimester as when “viability” happens and thus a stronger governmental interest is created).

The Professor pointed out that advances in science and medicine were already moving back the viability time clock and that we could expect future courts to narrow the Roe decision without having to overturn it.

Which shows that prophecy is a difficult business when dealing with a body like the Supreme Court which has the power to make its own rules and public policy as it goes along.

So why not just say what is obvious to nearly everyone: that a fully-developed fetus which unquestionably could survive and thrive outside the womb has every bit as much right to life as nine ladies and gentlemen wearing black robes?

I said fetus there deliberately.

The thing that sent dissenter Justice Ginsburg into apoplexy yesterday?  Justice Kennedy continuously referred to the victim of this grim and ghastly barbarism as an “unborn child”.

And therein appears the very first crack in 34 years in this wall of madness.

Well, I hadn’t planned on weighing in on the Imus controversy, that being kind of a hot topic and me being something of a public figure and all, but I got dragged into it yesterday on my radio talk show.

Personally I’m shocked, SHOCKED that a radio host would let slip an expression like nappy-headed hos, whatever that is. Or is it hoes? Do the style manuals explain this one yet?

So here’s the problem. My 92 year old regular caller wants my opinion on the whole thing, and I offer several, including that no one should listen to Al Sharpton on anything, let alone issues of justice and race.  I think, however, that Imus is a jerk and I don’t look kindly on people who make scatological references about young women, particularly when they are complete (and innocent) strangers.

But I’m still tip-toeing around the whole thing, knowing that there are literally dozens of people out there listening to my show and that ANYTHING I say might be misconstrued.

I’m being oh so careful.

And it doesn’t help that my caller keeps referring to the controversial shock host as “Amos”.

Now, I don’t know about you, but aside from one of the Bible’s minor prophets, the only other Amos I ever heard of was another radio guy who with his partner Andy started up a cab company in Chicago and moved it to Harlem.

Well, I must confess that some thoughts crossed my too-quick-witted brain that if uttered would have kept me forever off of MSNBC simulcasting, but I resisted, praise God, and my broadcast options are still open.

But my tongue is mighty sore today.

*********

All that Amos stuff reminds me of a caller a couple of years ago who asked, “Is it true them AY-mish people don’t pay no taxes?”

“No,” your reasonably well-informed host replied,”I don’t believe that is true. The AH-mish people pay taxes just like the rest of us.”

“Well, I think yer wrong.  Tell me, how can I get to be one of them AY-mish?”

“I’m not sure, Ma’am, but if there are any AH-mish people listening on their car radios, I hope one of them will give us a call on his cell phone and let us know.”

He is Risen Indeed!

A number of years ago a married woman of our acquaintance underwent prenatal testing. She and her husband received the sad news that their daughter would be born blind and deaf. She was strongly urged by medical professionals to abort the child (my word). Her faith would not allow it, and her stubbornness gave her the strength to stand up to the new gods.

But how many women have that strength, and how many men support them? In a previous post, in a footnote comment, I linked to a chilling article by George Neumayr, executive editor of The American Spectator titled The abortion debate that wasn’t in the Seattle Post Intelligencer. The statistics are horrifying.

Most of us know at least one person with Down Syndrome. Most lead fairly normal lives. I seem to recall one teenager starring in a television drama several years ago.

Some experts believe that since 1989, 70% of all conceived Down Syndrome children (my word) have been aborted.

Read the article for the rest. It will make you sick, I hope.

As a lawyer and former judge, I am particularly concerned with the part played in all this by the courts. Under our system of Common Law, causes of action are developed over time not by the legislatures, but by the courts. Trial lawyers push the limits all the time, which is how, without any action taken by elected bodies, suits for Wrongful Birth and Wrongful Life have cowered the already ethically challenged medical profession into not only acquiescing in, but actually promoting the New Eugenics.

A doctor fails to perform prenatal testing, or fails to discover a potential birth defect, or fails to adequately inform the mother (my word) of her “options”, including the RightThatDaresNotSpeakItsName, and the doctor or his insurance company can be on the hook for all the trauma caused the parents, and the support of the child forever. Is it any wonder that doctors use their professional status to urge, even demand, abortion when there is the slightest chance of an “imperfect” child?

The Culture of Life says that every life is a gift from God. The greatest triumph of our humanity has been our care for the weak and the helpless and the hopeless among us. In the Church we call such things works of mercy. Their essence is contained in the Beatitudes.

Will the Culture of Life prevail, or will the attitude of Senator Clinton, who argued that the partial birth abortion law should be defeated because it did not contain an exception for the mother (my word) to abort a disabled child (my word)?

Even if medical science can show us with absolute certainty the physical future of our progeny, by what right does anyone destroy that life?

Our friend gave birth to a baby girl who is, by the way, a perfectly normal high school kid today.

[This was one of my very first blog entries, April 2, 2005]

Our church bell tolled 84 times. We draped the front door in purple and black. A framed action photo of the Holy Father was on display in the sanctuary, surrounded by the Easter flowers, propped between the new Paschal Candle and the baptismal font used only last week to welcome and sanctify the new members of our parish.

The mourning came twice: first yesterday, prematurely, when the false announcement came, then this afternoon when I was alone and Mary was teaching the new altar servers. An angel-weeping drizzle had been falling all day. I wiped some tears.

I turned on EWTN. That marvelous female voice with the British accent reading the text while appropriate photos and film from the life of John Paul the Great flashed on the screen:

Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.
Blessed are they who mourn, for they shall be comforted.
Blessed are the meek, for they shall inherit the earth.
Blessed are they who hunger and thirst for righteousness, for they shall be satisfied.
Blessed are the merciful, for they shall be shown mercy.
Blessed are the clean of heart, for they shall see God.
Blessed are the peacemakers, for they shall be called sons of God.
Blessed are they who are persecuted for the sake of righteousness, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.
Blessed are you when they insult you and persecute you and utter every kind of evil falsely against you because of me. Rejoice and be glad, for your reward will be great in heaven.

Well, that did it for me. The pent-up emotion burst forth.

It was the second time this week I had seen those familiar words. The first had come from the written testimony of “Rachel Rose”, Dawn Eden’s mom, and the story of her theophany. (The whole story can be found in that peculiar backward blog way here.):

On the fifth day of reading The Great News, I came to Matthew 5, The Beatitudes. Standing on the Mount, Jesus looked out at the large gathering of people, and said: “Blessed are those who mourn, for they shall be comforted.” That got my attention. I had mourned for myself all my life. I read on: “Blessed are they who hunger and thirst after righteousness, for they shall be filled.” (Well, didn’t I hunger and thirst? Didn’t I seek to be righteous, even though I was so far from it?) I kept reading: “Blessed are those who are persecuted for the sake of righteousness…” (I was persecuted, wasn’t I? But I wasn’t righteous. Maybe that didn’t pertain to me.) Then I read the last one: “And blessed are YOU [My name jumped off the page. He was talking to ME.], when they shall reproach you, and persecute you, and say every evil word against you, lying, on account of me. Rejoice and be glad, for great is your reward in heaven.” REJOICE and BE GLAD. I began to cry. I began to sob. I fell in love. Jesus, I don’t know you. But you are the first one to understand. You are the only person who ever lived who could know my pain. Jesus, I will follow you anywhere. I’ll go to church. How do I follow you? Show me, show me, show me… The tears flowed and washed me clean.

After communion I wandered into the family room (where families with rambunctious kids can watch Mass through a plate-glass window overlooking the sanctuary; it is usually occupied more by middle-aged to elderly people) and knelt with my old high school Polish-American buddy, Brother Alex.

After Mass we reminisced briefly about our incredible and saintly Latin teacher, Sister Anna Roberta, CSJ, gone now to her eternal reward.

We looked out at the action photo of the young Pope, and the baptismal waters.

“What would Sister Anna say today?”

“I think,” I said, “that she would first say, ’sunt lacrimae rerum’ ["there are tears for things", from the Aeneid].

I paused.

“And then she would say, ‘Fiat‘.”

Yes.

Fiat.

Fiat voluntas tua.