My conservative Catholic friend clarified his position regarding the upcoming national election, and what he sees as unwarranted arrogance in matters of Catholic opinion by the political parties (in this election, the Republicans in particular).
I support Kerry because he is the right man for the position to effectively deal with foreign policy. That is what the Constitution stipulates. I do not believe that Bush is the best man for the position of representing our country to other nations, particularly in regards on matters of war and peace. Kerry, because he is conservative, will keep things as they are and may slow down conflicts that seem to be inevitable. That is my hope, but I have already seen Kerry utilizing Bush's "pre-emptive strike" doctrine, which bothers me greatly.
I would like to say that my support of Kerry does not arise singularly from the Republicans specifically attacking him for being wrong for a Catholic to support. It is the confirmation of what I have seen festering all along for the past few years, and, now that I realize it, long before that. I saw this occuring when I noticed that when the President declared war on Iraq, what is now known as the pre-emptive strike, it directly contradicts the very notion of a just war (if there could ever be one, and we will eventually find out). I have a strong concern regarding our nation's commitment to justice, particularly how the President dispenses it from his office, and how our elected representatives represent every one of our citizens: be they standing upright; in the womb; in a jail cell; homeless on the street and riverbank; or comatose in a bed, near death. The Republicans have far too long played with those of us who have a commitment toward those who are voiceless (the Democrats have too, but in different ways) and I should have recognized that sooner, if not at the very outset of my first registration back in 1986.
The day I really decided to leave the Grand Old Party was when I found that in New York there was a special event for Catholics at the Republican Convention. Oh, sure, these type of things probably happen all the time, but there was something that was too overt, too showy, and too exclusive about this event that occured that week for me not to notice.
Your line, "[t]hus is born another Kerry supporter," reminded me of "Easter, 1916," a poem by Yeats (see the lines in bold below). Can too long a sacrifice make a stone of the heart? (my question).Easter 1916
I have met them at close of day
Coming with vivid faces
From counter or desk among grey
Eighteenth-century houses.
I have passed with a nod of the head
Or polite meaningless words,
Or have lingered awhile and said
Polite meaningless words,
And thought before I had done
Of a mocking tale or a gibe
To please a companion
Around the fire at the club,
Being certain that they and I
But lived where motley is worn:
All changed, changed utterly:
A terrible beauty is born.
That woman's days were spent
In ignorant good-will,
Her nights is argument
Until her voice grew shrill.
What voice more sweet than hers
When, young and beautiful,
She rode to harriers?
This man had kept a school
And rode our wingèd horse;
This other his helper and friend
Was coming into his force;
He might have won fame in the end,
So sensitive his nature seemed,
So daring and sweet his thought.
This other man I had dreamed
A drunken, vainglorious lout.
He had done most bitter wrong
To some who are near my heart,
Yet I number him in the song;
He, too, has resigned his part
In the casual comedy;
He, too, has been changed in his turn,
Transformed utterly:
A terrible beauty is born.
Hearts with one purpose alone
Through summer and winter seem
Enchanted to a stone
To trouble the living stream.
The horse that comes from the road,
The rider, the birds that range
From cloud to tumbling cloud,
Minute by minute they change;
A shadow of cloud on the stream
Changes minute by minute;
A horse-hoof slides on the brim,
And a horse plashes within it;
The long-legged moor-hens dive,
And hens to moor-cocks call;
Minute to minute they live;
The stone's in the midst of all.
Too long a sacrifice
Can make a stone of the heart.
O when may it suffice?
That is Heaven's part, our part
To murmur name upon name,
As a mother names her child
When sleep at last has come
On limbs that had run wild.
What is it but nightfall?
No, no, not night but death;
Was it needless death after all?
For England may keep faith
For all that is done and said.
We know their dream; enough
And what if excess of love
Bewildered them till they died?
I write it out in a verse --
MacDonagh and MacBride
And Connolly and Pearse
Now and in time to be,
Wherever green is worn,
Are changed, changed utterly:
A terrible beauty is born.
September 25, 1916
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