Covetousness

In late 2021, a young man by the name of Kaivan Shroff published an article entitled, “Men like me benefit from safe abortion access.” By “men like me,” Shroff clearly means successful men, men who are too busy to care about any aspect of their sexual activity other than enjoyment, let alone take responsibility for it. Thanks to abortion, neither the needs and desires of the woman involved nor the life of the child who might come into being must enter his calculation.

According to his lengthy bio, Shroff is very important. He’s a senior adviser to D.C. non-profit and a former staffer for Hillary Clinton campaign’s digital team. Not to mention he has an MBA from Yale and a BA from Brown—and, he is about to graduate from law school. He certainly doesn’t need a child to complicate all of that success.

Shroff tells us, “In many ways, it feels like my life is just about to begin. It would be a terrible time to have a baby.” He wants to have kids someday. But he’s not in a relationship and after suffering through the pandemic, he’s ready “to eke out and enjoy every last minute of my 20s.” So, while he’s busy sowing his wild oats, any children he happens to father will just have to meet their untimely end, at least until the time is right for him.

Legal scholar Erika Bachiochi writes, “While pregnant, a woman is carrying a new and vulnerable human being within her. Unlike a biological father, a pregnant woman cannot just walk away; a pregnant woman must engage in a life-destroying act.”

Abortion, in other words, facilitates the sexual desires of cowardly, irresponsible men to abandon their unborn child and their child’s mother—while encouraging women to “free” themselves from the tyranny of their biology by committing an act of violence against their unborn child.

But what Shroff doesn’t acknowledge is that abortion isn’t cost-free. While it enables him to walk away from sex with nary a consequence, it requires much of women, much that doesn’t set them “free” at all.

Seinfeld is a popular television comedy based on the humor of comedian Jerry Seinfeld. In an episode entitled "The Fire," Jerry's friend, George Costanza (Jason Alexander), attends a child's birthday party at an apartment at the request of his girlfriend, Robin. While a clown is providing entertainment for the kids, Robin's mother approaches him: "Excuse me—you must be George. I'm Robin's mother. You seem like such a lovely young man."

"Well, I do what I can," George sheepishly replies.

Robin joins them. "Hi, Ma. How is everything?"

"This is just a wonderful party!"

"Well, the burgers should be ready in a minute," Robin says before she goes to talk to someone else. Her mother also leaves to talk to someone she recognizes.

George, standing alone, says, "What's that smell? Is that smoke?" As he walks into the kitchen, he is startled. "Everybody! I think I smell some smoke back here! Fire! Get out of here!"

George runs out of the kitchen in a panic, knocking over the clown, an old lady with a walker, and a couple of kids. "Get out of my way!" he yells, as he opens the front door of the apartment and runs away.

In the very next scene, George is outside getting oxygen from a group of paramedics. "It was an inferno in there!" he tells them.

Suddenly the clown runs over to George and says, "There he is! That's him!" Several angry children and Robin's mother gather round. "That's the coward that left us to die!" cries Robin's mother. The clown tries to hit George with an oversized shoe.

The next scene shows George standing by a fireman, a paramedic, the clown, Robin, and her mother. He tries to explain his actions: "I was trying to lead the way. We needed a leader, someone to lead the way to safety."

Robin objects: "But you yelled, 'Get out of my way!'"

"Because as the leader," George continues, "if I die, then all hope is lost. Who would lead? The clown? Instead of castigating me, you should be thanking me. What kind of topsy-turvy world do we live in where heroes are cast as villains, and brave men as cowards?"

"But I saw you push the women and children out of the way in a mad panic," someone yells out. "I saw you knock them down. And when you ran out, you left everyone behind."

"Seemingly," George refutes. "To the untrained eye, I can fully understand how you got that impression. What looked like pushy, what looked like knocking down, was a safety precaution. In a fire, you stay close to the ground. Am I right? And when I ran out that door, I was not leaving anyone behind. I risked my life making sure that exit was clear. Any other questions?"

The fireman offers just one more: "How do you live with yourself?"

"It's not easy," George replies.

In the final scene of the clip, George is in a restaurant with Jerry. "She doesn't want to see me anymore," George says, referring to Robin.

"Did you knock her over too, or just the kids?"

"No, her too. And her mother."

"So you feel 'women and children first' in this day and age is somewhat of an antiquated notion?" Jerry says.

"To some degree, yeah."

"So basically, it's every man, woman, child, and invalid for themselves?"

"In a manner of speaking," George replies. "She should be commending me for treating everyone like equals."

"Perhaps when she's released from the burn center, she'll see things differently," Jerry says.

DVD, Season 5, Disc 4 ("The Fire"); 00:09:50–00:13:15

"Courage is being scared to death and saddling up anyway."

—Actor John Wayne (1907–1979)

Al Janssen writes in "The Marriage Masterpiece":

Late one evening, while attending a conference in the German city of Hamburg, I boarded a commuter train and headed for an outlying suburb. The train car was completely empty at that late hour, and I dozed sleepily as it rattled past the harbor and then through the industrial district. Some minutes into the trip, an elderly man, dressed in rags and clearly suffering from a mental disability, shuffled into the car, closely followed by four teenagers. The young men, sporting an assortment of chains, tattoos, and body piercings, entered the car amid raucous laughter and loud talk. Almost immediately their attention focused on the old man who had seated himself near the center doors.

The four began to taunt him, shouting obscenities and making humiliating references to his mental condition. Then one of the teens shook up a half-filled can of beer and aimed the foamy spray directly into the old man's face. Without warning they began kicking his legs with their heavy boots and punching him in the arms and face.

Seated toward the back of the car, I looked on with a mixture of horror and fear as the terrible scene unfolded before me. I am not a big person; I am not trained in any of the martial arts; I have never considered myself particularly brave. Yet as a professing Christian I knew with absolute certainty that I could not simply sit back and watch this helpless old man be mercilessly beaten.

I whispered a deep prayer: "God, calm my fear. Show me the right thing to do." And then, without really giving my next actions any careful thought, I got out of my seat and walked purposefully toward the old man and his attackers. "Hans!" I called out in my best German, "Hans, how are you? It's been such a long time since we've seen each other!" And then, slipping between two of the surprised men, I embraced him, helped him to his feet and said, "Come sit with me, Hans. We have so much to catch up on."

The old man followed me toward the rear of the car and slid into the window seat. The teens looked on, not sure how they should respond. For a time they talked among themselves. But when the train pulled into the next stop, they got out. And at the following stop, "Hans" left as well, mumbling a word of thanks.

A love that is stronger than our fear. The common sense of our culture teaches that the only way to respond to fear is a cowardly retreat or a fight to the finish. The beauty and power of the gospel, by contrast, is that Jesus Christ offers a third alternative: trust in God —and in the transforming, surprising, power of love.

"Bravery comes along as a gradual accumulation of discipline."

—Buzz Aldrin, the second man to walk on the moon.

Remains of the Day explores the repressed love between the devoted English butler, Mr. Stevens (Anthony Hopkins), and the head housekeeper, Miss Kenton (Emma Thompson), in 1930s England. The master of the house, Lord Darlington, is being influenced by the Nazis to establish rapport between themselves and the British government. Nazi representatives are periodic guests in his house.

Lord Darlington addresses Mr. Stevens, "Stevens, we have some refugee girls on staff at the moment, I believe."

"We do, my Lord. Two housemaids. Elsa and Emma."

"You'll have to let them go, I'm afraid."

"Let them go, my Lord?"

"It's regrettable, Stevens, but we have no choice. You've got to see the whole thing in context. I have the well-being of my guests to consider."

"My Lord, may I say, they work extremely well. They're intelligent, polite, and very clean."

"I'm sorry, Stevens, but I've looked into the matter very carefully. There are larger issues at stake. I'm sorry, but there it is. They're Jews."

In the next scene, Stevens and Miss Kenton are having tea together in one of the servants' quarters.

Miss Kenton is flustered and upset. "You're saying that Elsa and Emma are to be dismissed because they're Jewish?"

Stevens answers firmly and calmly, "His Lordship has made his decision. There is nothing for you and I to discuss."

Miss Kenton says, "You realize if these girls have no work they could be sent back to Germany!"

"It is out of our hands."

"I'm telling you, Mr. Stevens, if you dismiss these girls it will be wrong. A sin. As any sin if ever was one."

"Miss Kenton, there are many things you and I don't understand in the world of today. Whereas his Lordship understands fully and has studied the larger issues at stake concerning, say, the nature of Jewry."

"Mr. Stevens, I warn you. If these girls go, I shall leave this home."

In the third scene, Stevens and Miss Kenton have just finished an interview of a candidate for one of the now vacant positions.

Stevens says, "Didn't you say you were leaving because of the German girls?"

Miss Kenton appears remorseful. "I'm not leaving. I've nowhere to go. I have no family. I'm a coward. I'm frightened of leaving and that's the truth. All I see in the world is limits, and it frightens me. That's all my high principles are worth, Mr. Stevens. I'm ashamed of myself."

Elapsed time: Measured from the opening credits, the scenes begin at 1:07:40 and end at 1:11:40.

In his book Fuzzy Memories, Jack Handey writes:

There used to be this bully who would demand my lunch money every day. Since I was smaller, I would give it to him. Then I decided to fight back. I started taking karate lessons. But then the karate lesson guy said I had to start paying him five dollars a lesson. So I just went back to paying the bully.

Too many people feel it is easier just to pay the bully than it is to learn how to defeat him.

If a man is centered upon himself, the smallest risk is too great for him, because both success and failure can destroy him. If he is centered upon God, then no risk is too great, because success is already guaranteed--the successful union of creator and creature, beside which everything else is meaningless.

Once you've faced the very thing you fear the most, it is no longer quite so fearful.

Fear doesn't want you to make the journey to the mountain. If he can rattle you enough, fear will persuade you to take your eyes off the peaks and settle for a dull existence in the flatlands.

It is not the critic who counts; not the man who points out how the strong man stumbles, or where the doer of deeds could have done them better. The credit belongs to the man who is actually in the arena, whose face is marred by dust and sweat and blood; who strives valiantly; who errs, and comes short again and again, because there is not effort without error and shortcoming; but who does actually strive to do the deeds; who knows the great enthusiasms, the great devotions; who spends himself in a worthy cause; who at best knows in the end the triumphs of high achievement and who at the worst, if he fails, at least fails while daring greatly, so that his place shall never be with those cold and timid souls who know neither victory nor defeat.

Cowardice asks the question: Is it safe? Consensus asks the question: Is it popular? Conscience asks: Is it right?

He who deliberates fully before taking a step will spend his entire life on one leg.

To sin by silence when they should protest makes cowards out of men.

At times one hesitates to reprove or admonish evil-doers, either because one seeks a more favorable moment or fears his rebuke might make them worse, and further, discourage weak brethren from seeking to lead a good and holy life, or turn them aside from the faith. In such circumstances forbearance is not prompted by selfish considerations but by well advised charity.

What is reprehensible, however, is that while leading good lives themselves and abhorring those of wicked men, some, fearing to offend, shut their eyes to evil deeds instead of condemning them and pointing out their malice. To be sure, the motive behind their malice is that they may suffer no hurt in the possession of those temporal goods which virtuous and blameless men may lawfully enjoy; still there is more self-seeking here than becomes men who are mere sojourners in this world and who profess the hope of a home in heaven.

Often, in coming down to this pulpit, have I felt my knees knock together.

Christian literature, to be accepted and approved by evangelical leaders of our times, must follow very closely the same train of thought, a kind of "party line" from which it is scarcely safe to depart. A half-century of this in America has made us smug and content. We imitate each other with slavish devotion. Our most strenuous efforts are put forth to try to say the same thing that everyone around us is saying--and yet to find an excuse for saying it, some little safe variation on the approved theme or, if no more, at least a new illustration.

The remarkable thing about fearing God is that when you fear God you fear nothing else, whereas if you do not fear God you fear everything else.

Threatened layoffs at work. Drugs and weapons in the schools. We have every right to be fearful, right? Maybe not. In Scared to Life (Victor), Douglas Rumford cites a study that explains why we shouldn't allow fear to rule our lives:

-- 60% of our fears are totally unfounded;

-- 20% are already behind us;

-- 10% are so petty they don't make any difference;

-- 4-5% of the remaining 10% are real, but we can't do anything about them.

That means only 5% are real fears that we can do something about.