The event was a media feeding frenzy. Cameras and reporters were everywhere. One TV network reporter walked up to me and said, “Are you here as a part of the anti-abortion group?” “No,” I said, “I am here as a part of the pro-life group.” She paused for quite a long time and then finally figured out what I was saying.

The principle convictions of death versus life for the unborn are not new. They have been with us for centuries but have taken up permanent residence in our rhetoric since January 22, 1973 when Roe vs. Wade brought abortion into the American spotlight as never before. This landmark ruling brought about a holocaust of the American child. Opinions about abortion remain significantly polarized in our country and around the world. Of that, there is no doubt. My grief today is not primarily about beliefs but behavior.

I have never witnessed so much hatred and anger as I did in the hearts and actions of the participants in the “March for Women’s Lives” on Sunday. I am a bishop in the church, so I was dressed appropriately while standing along the March route. We were there to do nothing more than pray for the marchers, remind them that Christ stood for life, and call upon them to make the right choice. Yes, we cried out to stop killing babies. Yes, we called out that abortion was wrong. Yes, we reminded them of the young lives in the womb. Because of this, I was ready for some pockets of mockery and some sub-groups of angst. I was not ready, however, for the majority abhorrence by the marchers concerning our presence. Cursings and vile gestures came not just from the young but the old. Gray-haired women, who will probably go home to resume life as sweet grandmothers to their own families, raised their middle fingers in disgust and shouted curses at us. Marchers called out to our youth, telling them that their mothers should have had them aborted. Little children along the route, including my own grandchildren, were derided and cursed by the participants, who also yelled hate-filled words at their parents. One of the hardest scenes to witness was the sight of our young men and women kneeling in prayer with March participants standing over them screaming and shouting.

The clergy were stationed toward the end of the parade route. Several priests and deacons from my parish stood with me in a line. We were in cassocks, holding icons, a processional cross, and other reminders of Christ’s scandalous love… a love available to the marchers. Those who walked by seemed especially bent on their focusing threats and curses in our direction. They would come over to us and spew venomous words. They mocked us, made the sign of the cross toward us as a joke, called us “pedophiles,” and used other interesting descriptives. Again, I was most astonished by the attitude of the sixty-something and seventy-something generation. I was used to being “flipped off,” as they call it, by the young but not the elderly. The universal and intergenerational disrespect by those who stood for “choice” (I would argue the term death is more appropriate, as the issue is still about the freedom to kill unborn children) was astonishing.

The march also included some interesting collateral assaults. The war in Iraq, anarchy, President George W. Bush, gay marriage, and the International Monetary Fund were among the other issues touted by those who participated. Gay couples made out in front of us, surfing on someone else’s cause to flaunt their sexual preferences and pleasures. Seemingly, this was a come-one-come-all event for anyone and everyone who winked at morality, those who scowled at traditional values, and others who had issues with the government.

At the beginning of this article I mentioned that my amazement yesterday was not about belief but behavior. As with anyone involved in the cause of Life over the years, many of us present yesterday had “seen it all” when it comes to the attitudes of those who embrace abortion. The writer of Ecclesiastes states, “There is nothing new under the sun.” While that observation proved true again yesterday, there was one major difference. We experienced, from our sidelines of sadness, a width, depth, length, and breadth of their anger in a concentrated form.

I will contend, until I am in the grave, for the cause of life. At the same time, Christ has called me to love the world as he does. (While we were yet sinners, Christ died for us.) In all my contending, the love of Christ is what compels me forward. From this vantage point I have three observations about the “Choice camp.”

Observation one: Their actions nullify their affirmations. They talk about choice, but angrily condemn those of us who have chosen a route other than abortion. I was amazed – a word that lacks the sense of alarm I felt – that such disrespect was shown for those who disagree. Further, their hatred, anger, malice, and murderous talk goes unchallenged by commentators of our culture. Those who affirm the necessity for abortion mask their intentions through interesting phrases like “reproductive rights” and “a woman’s right to choose.” Fr. Frank Pavone, of Priests for Life, aptly described the difference in attitude we are experiencing when he observed that those who stand for abortion declare “this is my body, I can do what I want;” while our Lord Jesus Christ declared, “this is My body, given for you.” Perhaps reproductive righteousness would be a better concept to explore than reproductive rights.

Observation two: Their allegiances scandalize their argument. Each morning I like to read a chapter of proverbs according to the calendar date. Today I read this from Proverbs 26:6 – “He who sends a message by the hand of one who lacks judgment cuts off his own feet and drinks violence.” Such was the work of yesterday’s march. As I even tried to put my own mind around the concept of choice – which is absolutely impossible for me to do – I was still convicted of the fact I would be embarrassed to allow the character and company of those who participated in the march to reflect my personal convictions. I know there were sincere marchers present who believed in their cause. There were also performers whose theatrics were worthy of reproach. Women dressed only in bumper stickers, drag queens, assorted anarchists, and a smattering of extremist groups all combined to send forth a message of cohesive confusion.

My porch feels very safe and comfortable this morning. Twenty miles away, in downtown Washington, moms and dads, young men and women, and families are probably getting dressed, having breakfast, and then heading home from their march. They are laughing and enjoying one another’s company while basking in the light of the “victory” they sense from this huge demonstration for their choice against life. It would be hard for the average person walking by to think that these same people, one day earlier, had the capacity for such rage. I know this is true as I witnessed a significant shift immediately after the march. Walking back to the car, still in our same cassocks, we filed alongside of crowds of marchers with “choice” signs still in-hand. Most were docile and pleasant, making small talk among themselves and paying little attention to us, other than a polite thank you, when we would let some of them through at a crowded corner. I wondered if this was the way the crowd behaved on the way back from Golgotha following the crucifixion of our Lord. Earlier they were shouting curses of death, but now returning to a “normal” life. This brings me to my final observation on the “March for Women’s Lives”: they came to march, they became a mob. Hysteria is contagious.

I was proud and honored to stand alongside of a thousand others yesterday who proclaimed life. We exhibited, I believe, the love of Christ for the person and the conviction of Christ toward the profanity of abortion. Not only did we contend for the right cause, but we did it with the right character.