May They Rest in Peace – But Not Us, Yet

“To comfort the afflicted and afflict the comfortable” was a motto of Dorothy Day. How might we do that?

Yesterday, the Church celebrated All Souls Day, praying for all the dead who have gone before us.

Some of us visited graveyards or mausoleums, and some of us set up pictures and burned candles at Dia de los Muertos altars in own homes. We repeated the names of those who are missing from our lives: MichaelUncle Pete, Mom.

But grief should not only be saved for All Souls Day.

“Blessed are they who mourn, for they will be comforted,” says the Beatitude.

The corollary isn’t stated but is certainly true: “Woe to those who do not mourn, for they will find no comfort.”

When you mourn the dead, you acknowledge their infinite dignity and worth, and seeing their worth (and remembering your own), you are comforted.

But what about those who aren’t buried, who have no pictures and who were never given a name? To refuse to mourn them is to refuse to acknowledge their worth. You lose the ability to be comforted, because if they are worthless, then so are you.

This is what has happened through the tragedy of abortion: its pain is multiplied by our inability to mourn it.

Sometimes “not mourning” means anger: painful situations lead to abortion, and we push the sorrow away with bitterness and blame.

Sometimes not mourning means cynicism: to accept abortion, we have to strip life of its meaning with jokes or superficiality.

Often, not mourning means depression: the hurt of abortion is too big to face, so we don’t, and we are frozen in darkness instead.

Dorothy Day, in fact, faced all three.

She describes her abortion as a 21-year old: “My right arm clutched my abdomen. It was burning in pain. I walked out onto the street alone in the dark. … Lionel, my boyfriend, promised to pick me up at the flat after it was all over. I waited in pain from 9 a.m. to 10 p.m., but he never came.”

Thereafter came the anger and bitterness, the party scene and the depression. But then conversion.

A friend of mine once confronted an acquaintance who’d had an abortion. He told her he loved her but she shouldn’t have done what she did. She broke down and cried, saying, “Thank you. Thank you.” She said no one else had been willing to tell her the truth, and of course she knew the truth.

She knew her child deserved better, and that meant she did too.

The most chilling comments on abortion I have ever heard are not from the women on Twitter claiming to be proud of their abortion. They are just sad, stuck in the cycle of denial.

The worst I heard was from fellow prisoners after I was sentenced for trespassing at an abortion protest in San Francisco. On a work-release program, the question would invariably arise: “What are you in for?”

Most people would say “drunk driving,” and then tell their story. I would say “protesting at an abortion clinic” and then wait out the silence that followed.

But a few comments leaked out. “Come on,” said one guy, almost angrily. “Let the b*tches do what they want.”

Abortion’s morality was beside the point. It was necessary for sexual license. If women were willing to do that, then why interfere?

He was totally comfortable with abortion.

Another guy, a supervisor who told me he was a Mormon, took me out in his truck to talk. “I love that you did what you did,” he said when we were alone. “My girlfriend and I always vote pro-life. We have had four abortions, but we think it should be illegal.”

He was also comfortable with abortion, with his life split in two between profession and practice, his “personally in favor but publicly opposed” position.

In addition to the wounded who need to be healed, there are the calloused who need to be wounded.

When I pray for the souls of the dead, I will pray for these groups too.

May the souls of the unborn rest in peace. May their mothers mourn and be comforted. And may God give our consciences no peace at all, as long as lives are destroyed in our midst.

This first appeared at Aleteia.

The Gregorian Institute is Benedictine College’s initiative to promote Catholic identity in public life by equipping leaders (the Gregorian speech digest), training leaders (the Gregorian Fellows), defending the faith (the Memorare Army for Religious Freedom), and celebrating Catholic identity (the Catholic Hall of Fame).

Tom Hoopes

Tom Hoopes

Tom Hoopes, author of The Rosary of Saint John Paul II and The Fatima Family Handbook, is writer in residence at Benedictine College in Kansas and hosts The Extraordinary Story podcast about the life of Christ. His book What Pope Francis Really Said is now available on Audible. A former reporter in the Washington, D.C., area, Hoopes served as press secretary of the U.S. House Ways & Means Committee Chairman and spent 10 years as executive editor of the National Catholic Register newspaper and Faith & Family magazine. His work frequently appears in Catholic publications such as Aleteia.org and the Register. He and his wife, April, have nine children and live in Atchison, Kansas.