What will happen to Catholic hospitals if the Freedom of Choice Act (FOCA), a bill to be sponsored by Senator Boxer and Congressman Nadler, passes? Many Catholics are concerned it would result in the destruction of conscience protections for medical personnel, shifting the force of government further in favor of abortion, requiring Catholic hospitals to close or accept a procedure they oppose? Following the civil rights model of civil disobedience some Catholic Bishops want to refuse to comply, while other Bishops talk about closing Catholic Hospitals. Catholic Hospitals in America employ 600,000, comprise 13 percent of the total 5,000 hospitals, and care for 1 in 6.

Could civil disobedience work? Or, would Courts find a civil remedy for the test case “victims” sent to Catholic hospitals across America by groups like NARAL Pro-Choice America and Planned Parenthood? Surely, these groups would be sending out “test cases,”—persons seeking abortions at Catholic hospitals, individuals who if refused the procedure would file law suits with the financial support of a group like the ACLU to finance their agenda? And if it meant exposing medical personnel to litigation, would health care workers be willing to work for a Catholic hospital engaged in civil disobedience? And if they were willing to work for a Catholic hospital engaged in civil disobedience, would health care professionals be able to get malpractice insurance? Can a Catholic Church committed to life from conception realistically remain open and participate in what it regards as an evil and pernicious operation?

Would the first African-American President really participate in legislation destroying the long honored right of conscience—a cherished tradition and principle of individual rights in the West and in the United States, a right resulting in the abolition of slavery and the benefits to minorities from the Civil Rights movement? Perhaps he would; after all, isn’t he the first Presidential candidate to argue that an infant surviving a botched partial-birth abortion procedure is “pre-viable;” and then argue that such an infant is not protected as a “person” under the Constitution. During the campaign, he even responded to a question from Rick Warren during a debate about when life begins, by answering: when life begins is: “above my pay grade.” President Obama’s argument that a living child was not a person entitled to life always struck me as rather curious and inexplicable in light of the universal condemnation throughout America today of the Plessy vs. Ferguson decision, a decision holding a slave was only three fifths of a person.

Perhaps you ask, why would President Obama sign such legislation—an act shuttering up to 13 percent of all hospitals in America, an act resulting in unemployment or relocation for up to 600,000 employees, an act disrupting and distressing one in six Americans? Why would he do this in light of the impacts upon religious faith, and hospital care, and the economy, and the right of conscience; after all, didn’t he promise to bring a new tone to American politics, to rise above the petty politics of the past, to bring Americans together, not drive them further apart?

            
Consider, however, as a Presidential candidate, Barack Obama promised to sign FOCA, a promise he made to pro-abortion groups that supported his election. Consider also, quickly after his inauguration, President Obama proudly signed an Executive Order authorizing the use of American taxpayer dollars, to fund international organizations providing abortions, an expenditure of money opposed, in a recent poll, by 62 percent of Americans.  

            
Perhaps, President Obama would say: it all depends on what you mean by “bringing together.”

A thoughtful book, I recommend Fifty Days of Solitude. Alone at home during a period of self-imposed seclusion, Doris Grumbach offers a helpful meditation on the meaning of solitude, telling of her time weighing and considering a range of questions, her search for answers, and a report of lessons learned. Her solitude affords her time to delve into remembered ideas from art and a lifetime of reading. Quoting artists and authors, she conducts her own Socratic dialogues, following Bacon’s admonition for book readers that “some few are to be chewed and digested.”

Grumbach also explores her thoughts about friends and friendships; thoughts about loneliness versus solitude; about the crowding out of “white spaces” where much meaning is often missed; about the need for learning “to look hard at what she did not notice before and even harder at what is not there, at what Paul Valery called ‘the presence of absence.’”

There is an interesting insight about the role of solitude in life and her failure to appreciate it as a gift when young, recalling two brief periods when she lived alone. The author recognizes that opportunities for reflection are more difficult for her in the noisy city. She learns that solitude nourishes her energy and promotes creativity; her writing becomes more satisfying and more productive.

The day’s mail disrupts her routine. It invades her seclusion bringing reports of unwelcomed events in friend’s lives—illness, death, disgrace. These letters, with news clippings, from friends, take her away from her writing. She receives a particularly disquieting report about a much-admired friend and respected teacher who has been indicted. His disturbing fall leads her to think about a characteristic of American society: “too often achievement and recognition come early and too fast, leaving a long life of disappointment and decline.’”

Finally, as her self-imposed seclusion ends, she reaches some final thoughts about solitude:

Taking Retirement: A Packed Deck of Lessons -

Gaining Perspective about the War against Radical Islamism – Civilization And Its Enemies,