Just to be clear: conception is not a miracle, life is
This commentator argues that the miraculous is commonplace.
- Simcha Fisher
- International
- July 13, 2012
Pro-lifers routinely refer to "the miracle of life," a phrase which isn't really theologically accurate. A miracle is, technically and strictly speaking, an event which wouldn't happen ordinarily in nature. It's something which only happens because of the special intervention of God.
If you're going to look at sheer numbers, it's hard to imagine anything less miraculous, or more ordinary and natural than the conception of a child. It's something that's happened billions of times, often without anyone meaning or wanting it to happen -- often without anyone even realizing that it's happened. I've seen pro-choice people roll their eyes and patiently explain, "Yes, babies are cute, but they're hardly a miracle, any more than it's a miracle every time a weed grows. It's simple biology; happens all the time."
Which always makes me think, "Yes? Is it somehow not amazing when a weed grows?" Maybe it's just because I'm such a terrible gardener, but every time I put a seed in the ground, sweat and fret for those ten days of germination, give up hope, keep watering anyway, and then go out one evening to discover that SOMETHING IS COMING UP, it blows my mind. Absolutely blows my mind. I drag my husband out to see: "Look! Do you see, right there? You can even see where the soil is actually being pushed away, because the little leaves are coming up! Look how hard it's trying! I know I planted a seed there, but HOW IS THIS HAPPENING? You can even see the little bean shell stuck to it! LOOK!"
I get nearly the same thrill when I weed, to be honest. Yesterday there was nothing but bare dirt surrounding my tomato plant; today, there are six kinds of green all fighting their way through out of nothingness into the light, all hungry, thirsty, ready to join the battle with beetles and downpours and sun and chill. Some of them are feathery, some fibrous, some creep and cling to the ground with flat, sticky leaves, some are just simple, forthright grass . . . and everybody wants a piece of life. I don't shed any tears when I rip them out and toss them away, but I really do admire them. Or at least, I admire the system.
Full Story: Over and Over Again
Source: National Catholic Register
If you're going to look at sheer numbers, it's hard to imagine anything less miraculous, or more ordinary and natural than the conception of a child. It's something that's happened billions of times, often without anyone meaning or wanting it to happen -- often without anyone even realizing that it's happened. I've seen pro-choice people roll their eyes and patiently explain, "Yes, babies are cute, but they're hardly a miracle, any more than it's a miracle every time a weed grows. It's simple biology; happens all the time."
Which always makes me think, "Yes? Is it somehow not amazing when a weed grows?" Maybe it's just because I'm such a terrible gardener, but every time I put a seed in the ground, sweat and fret for those ten days of germination, give up hope, keep watering anyway, and then go out one evening to discover that SOMETHING IS COMING UP, it blows my mind. Absolutely blows my mind. I drag my husband out to see: "Look! Do you see, right there? You can even see where the soil is actually being pushed away, because the little leaves are coming up! Look how hard it's trying! I know I planted a seed there, but HOW IS THIS HAPPENING? You can even see the little bean shell stuck to it! LOOK!"
I get nearly the same thrill when I weed, to be honest. Yesterday there was nothing but bare dirt surrounding my tomato plant; today, there are six kinds of green all fighting their way through out of nothingness into the light, all hungry, thirsty, ready to join the battle with beetles and downpours and sun and chill. Some of them are feathery, some fibrous, some creep and cling to the ground with flat, sticky leaves, some are just simple, forthright grass . . . and everybody wants a piece of life. I don't shed any tears when I rip them out and toss them away, but I really do admire them. Or at least, I admire the system.
Full Story: Over and Over Again
Source: National Catholic Register
