God seems to be the only one respecting our freedom these days

Our dog Chesterton is a fluffy, un-groomed Schnauzer. He knows some basic commands but is loath to obey them. Daily, he pony-prances into the backyard and barks at the construction workers behind the fence, and every day we call him back in, threatening him with a bark collar but then giving in to his request to play.

He seems to have a goldfish-like ability to walk around the room once, forget that he saw you only a moment ago, and either jump for joy at the newfound sight of you or bark at you like you are an intruder. But for all of the ways that Chesterton delights and surprises us, there are a few things he will never do.

Chesterton will never create a work of art or ponder the meaning of beauty and truth. Once, he tore the entire book of Proverbs out of our son’s Bible, and we scolded him, saying that we expected more from a Catholic dog, whose namesake would be ashamed.

He ate the book of Proverbs, but he will never read it. And this is because Chesterton’s kin were created with all animals of his sort on the sixth day, the day of the beasts.

Man was also created on the sixth day, but he was given a soul, and he was created for and pulled into the seventh day, to ponder what it means to be made in the image of God. 

To be made in God’s image is to be made with a spirit, a mind, and a will. Though our bodies also “resemble” God, it is these that make up our soul and most closely unite us with our Father. We are called to form our will, our thoughts, and our freedom to what is good and pleasing to God, what is good, true, and beautiful.

I’ve been thinking about this likeness lately. I see it when my children make music or a really bad pun. When they have a preference for the colour of their room or enjoy a specific type of literature, they show the creative genius that makes up man. And, as annoying as it is, when they question or challenge me – respectfully I hope – on something they believe is worth fighting for, they give witness to the understanding and free will that makes them most like God. I may work my hardest to outwit them, but I hope I will never stop them outright from expressing themselves ... respectfully.

I have noticed of late that this understanding and free will, man’s right to think, to disagree, even to be wrong, is frightening to people. It is something to shun, something to run away from, something to restrict. I think of Matthew 13:15, where the people “close their eyes and can hardly hear with their ears.”

Years ago, a prominent Canadian feminist wrote a pro-abortion column online that was full of untrue rhetoric. I typed a reply to one of her comments, to which she immediately replied with something along the lines that Hitler didn’t like abortions, so therefore I was like Hitler. I typed in a response, ignoring that odd (false!) comment, and was given a pop-up reply that said my comments would no longer be accepted in the system. I was locked out for disagreeing with abortion.

Again, years ago, I wrote a letter to the editor, which was published. When I looked at it in print, I discovered that the editor had not only edited my words but actually added an entire sentence to my letter. That sentence completely changed the point of view I was expressing. I’m sure it made the editor more comfortable, but as I looked at words I did not write, followed by my name, I realized how easily a person’s name and words are taken from them. Our name and our words help to make up who we are.

These two examples shocked me when they happened. At the time, I wondered how it was possible that someone could get away with telling an entire readership that I said something that I indeed did not say. I was stunned that I could be ridiculously accused of following Hitler and then blocked from responding. But now, in the days of social media, talk show hosts, and atheistic, anti-life “news” sources repeating the same stories over and over until I feel like I am locked in a cell with a de-programming video playing on repeat, I am tragically no longer even surprised. The number of posts that I, or my friends, have had censored should be shocking.

I laughed when my friend posted a picture of Santa Claus kneeling before the Christ Child, and it was blurred out and labelled as potentially offensive. I shake my head when I share a column written by a post-abortive woman, only to have it blocked and shut down. But now I feel a need to cry when I see so much hatred celebrated, day after day after day, impressing itself into our minds so that we (I?) respond with hatred before we even think or choose it.

I feel a need to grieve when something is posted, outlining how liberties and the freedom of speech, or even the freedom of an infant or sick person to breathe, has been taken away, and instead of being concerned or engaging in a debate about the issue, readers call names, make angry political accusations, and refuse to listen to a reply.

I think about Orwell’s “Two Minutes Hate” and too many other things I’ve read by Benson, Huxley, Pope Pius, John Paul II, Ratzinger, O’Brien, Pope Leo ... where people believe it is better to abandon everything it means to be human, even the right to be wrong, and expect conformity for the so-called “good of the people.”

To abandon what it means to be human, the quest and finding of truth, is to abandon our sonship. What good is left for the people when conscience, thought, freedom, and life are repressed?

You may disagree with much of what I’ve written, dear reader, but I whisper a word of caution. God is the only one who has a right to our conformity and love, yet seemingly he is also the only one who respects our free will enough not to enforce it.