A Story of Homecoming .(Editorial)

In the second editorial that appears on this page, I'll be discussing the massive March for Life whose gigantic numbers no media outlet did justice to, and the six cap-in-hand Democratic presidential aspirants who dutifully attended NARAL's January 21 fundraiser. (No dummy, NARAL has changed its name for the fourth time to eliminate the very word "abortion." Its latest moniker is NARAL Pro-Choice America.)

In an issue dedicated to commemorating the countless activities pro-lifers undertook on the 30th anniversary of Roe v. Wade, I would like to talk about vision. Let me explain what I mean.

This space has often been used to ponder what it means to "see" the unborn. Blinded by ignorance and indifference, many men and women are, in a sense, almost pro-life proof. They cannot see that what we've done to unborn children is an atrocity that must be ended.

My conclusion? That not until the littlest American enters the moral vision of our people will she be recognized for who she truly is: one of us, deserving of love, life, and legal protection.

But it is clear to me that, like a photographic negative beginning to develop, the "picture" of the unborn is gradually coming into focus. Still blurry, to be sure, but far sharper than it was only a few years ago.

I was reminded of this truth when I read Henri Nouwen's, The Return of the Prodigal Son: A Story of Homecoming.

Nouwen, one of the great Catholic writers of the past 40 years, recorded this deeply personal spiritual odyssey after seeing a poster of Rembrandt's The Return of the Prodigal Son. In his book Nouwen brings the parable and the painting to life with what Michael Joseph Gross described as his "empathic analyses" of not only the Prodigal Son, older brother, and father, but also the "by-standers" whom Rembrandt included in his painting.