The Temptation in the Laboratory
By Dick Lyles
Members of Congress who supported the Stem Cell Research Enhancement Act of 2005 would do well to read a little more Dr. Seuss. It could help them recognize the immorality of supporting research that destroys human embryos in the name of “progress.”
In the Dr. Seuss children’s story that I used to read to my children, “Horton Hears a Who,” Horton the elephant fights to protect life that’s too small to see.
“A person’s a person no matter how small,” is Horton’s refrain.
The same can be said of the additional frozen embryos that Congressmen and women voted to make available for federally funded stem cell research.
In 2001, President George W. Bush set limits on federal funding for most embryonic research. On Tuesday, the U.S. Senate voted to make additional embryonic stem cell lines available, thereby forcing taxpayers to help foot the bill. Thankfully, the president recognizes the attack on innocent human life and vetoed the legislation Wednesday.
Research scientists discontent with the existing lines want to make available embryos that would otherwise be discarded by fertility clinics. By some estimates, there are more than 400,000 frozen embryos in such clinics nationally. They speculate that such research could lead to great advances in treating disease.
The dean of the Graduate School of Biomedical Sciences at Houston’s Baylor College of Medicine even went so far as to say that such research could “help the crippled walk again and the blind see again.”
Yet, it is God alone who can make the crippled walk and the blind see, as so aptly demonstrated through his Son, Jesus Christ, in Scripture.
While it’s admirable that researchers want to alleviate the suffering of those facing debilitating diseases, the ends can never justify the means. Tax dollars should not be spent to destroy human life.
Human life is both precious and sacred – a gift from God. Just because we can do something, doesn’t mean we should. There are limits to what we can do, and those limits must be obeyed even when we don’t understand them.
The Temptation
Still, the temptation is strong. The promise of a potential good isn’t worth the cost. Recall the temptation in the Garden of Eden.
Limits were placed on Adam and Eve. They were neither to touch nor eat the fruit of the tree in the center of the garden. They do not know why God has given them this limitation, but it is a protection that God has established.
Enter the tempter.
“Did God really say that you must not eat of any tree in the garden?” the wily serpent asks.
“You surely will not die,” the serpent lies. “For God knows that when you eat of it your eyes will be opened, and you will be like God….”
So it is with embryonic stem cell research. The temptation lingers still – this time in the laboratory. Scientific researchers grasping to be like God hope to take human life for a perceived societal good.
The destruction of a human embryo, even for the purposes of reducing human suffering, is immoral, just as it would be immoral to remove body parts from a person imprisoned. Such procedures turn humans into utilities – valuing them not for the God-given gift that they are, but valuing them only for what they can provide. Once they have provided, they are expendable.
No potential promised “good” can ever justify evil. No potentiality can ever justify the destruction of innocent human life, no matter its age or condition.
Far more promising than embryonic stem cell research is adult stem cell research, which does not result in the destruction of human embryos. At this point in time, adult stem cell research has led to treatments for 72 different diseases – including various cancers, autoimmune diseases, and leukemia. Embryonic stem cell research, on the other hand, has so far led to none. It would be far better for the federal government to fund research that respects human life.
A Personal Trial
I, myself, might stand to benefit from such research, but I won’t compromise my faith for the sake of my health.
I’ve been plagued with late onset, limited scope muscular dystrophy for the last few years. The disease has attacked the muscles in my legs, forcing me to walk with a limp. My physician has told me that the only hope he knows of for reversing the disease would be through embryonic stem cells.
Would I like to end the suffering brought on by my muscular dystrophy? Certainly, but not at the destruction of a human life. If that’s my only hope, I’ll remain crippled for the rest of my life.
“A person’s a person no matter how small.”
Dick Lyles lives in Green Bay, Wis., where he serves as CEO of Relevant Radio®, a national network of Catholic radio stations. He also hosts a weekly show on spirituality in the workplace called LifeWorks™.
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Reflections from a Father of the Bride
By Dick Lyles
My shoes were shined, my tux was pressed and my toast was written. By all practical accounts, I was ready to be Father of the Bride this spring.
But no checklist could prepare me for the powerful emotion that accompanied my firstborn’s wedding.
When Jennifer approached me that morning, she looked radiant. She was fully assembled, but suddenly she came undone; the reality of the occasion hit her and tears spilled down her cheeks.
“Jen, breathe,” I told her. “Breathe real deep.” I tried to usher her through the weepiness so we could make it down the aisle.
Soon the trumpets blared, cuing our walk to the altar. I was struck by one conviction: How right it all was. Ever since Jennifer, 33, could walk and talk she had anticipated this day – at times, impatiently. And I knew in my heart that everything had come together after all these years just as it was supposed to. My joy was sealed in peace of mind. Tears welled up in my smiling eyes.
When I handed Jen to her groom, I had a profound sense that I was gaining a son, not losing a daughter.
My daughter’s milestone triggered a flashback sequence in the lens of my heart – a blur of band-aids and braces and badges. Hiccups and hugs. Trials and triumphs. How fast it all had gone.
I highlighted some special memories of Jen in my toast at the reception. I was serving as a Naval Officer in Vietnam when she was born. Amidst bombs and missiles, the news reached me – a blast of ecstasy unlike any happiness I had ever experienced.
Fatherhood has been the most rewarding adventure I ever undertook. It has altered my wiring. As a knuckleheaded boy in a rough-and-tumble neighborhood, accidents aroused minimal concern. “How many stitches did ya get?” we’d ask flippantly. I was surprised to learn how deeply a dad could feel when his children suffered pain.
That’s one reason fatherhood has deepened my faith; I gained a better grasp of God’s paternal nature, his infinite heart, his limitless mercy.
Watching children grow up is an ongoing miracle. They’re breathing! They’re rolling over! They’re talking! They’re throwing balls and sprouting freckles and doing long division and playing trombones! Awe and wonder. Glory to God.
Society ’s perception of fatherhood has changed significantly during the three decades between my daughter’s birth and wedding. Americans’ expectations for fathers and their responsibilities have diminished dramatically – and we’re paying a huge price for it. Research consistently shows that many people are suffering spiritually, intellectually, psychologically, economically and physically because their dads weren’t involved in the responsibility inherent in fathering. It’s a problem in ghettos and suburbs alike. Dads deserve greater support and greater demands.
In some ways, my role as father of a family resembles my role as CEO of Relevant Radio, the largest Catholic talk radio network in the country. The accountability I have to the people in both groups for the things I say and do is absolute. If you’re going to excel in either role, you have to be honest about your strengths and weaknesses. Neither my kids nor my employees expect perfection. But they do expect authenticity. A good leader walks the talk.
And a good leader leans on God. The more awesome the responsibility – and there is no responsibility more awesome than parenting – the greater the need to rely on God. An active prayer life recharges a dad’s batteries, day in and day out.
Once I had toasted Jen at her wedding reception, it was time for our father-daughter dance. Stevie Wonder’s up-tempo song “You are the Sunshine of my Life” conveyed my thoughts and sentiments.
Looking back on my role as Father of the Bride this Father’s Day, it strikes me as a summation of a dad’s mission. We remind our children to breathe. We lead them into the church. We toast to their talents. And we dance in their sunshine.
Dick Lyles and his wife Martha live in Green Bay, Wisconsin, where he serves as CEO of Relevant Radio (www.relevantradio.com). |
