Today we honor all those brave young souls who died alone, in the bottom of a red biohazard bag, incinerated at the end of the month with legions of soiled utility towels and latex gloves. We honor their sacrifice, their bravery in the fight for the opportunity to become one single precious life whose sole purpose is to grow in the womb of a fertile, waiting, hopeful mother. So intent on bearing a child is she, that in the absence of God's actions, she takes it on herself to extract her own eggs and place them in the hands of a scientist. This medical shaman then impregnates that egg with spilled sperm from the potential mother's husband, whom she deeply loves and is committed to in the holy state of matrimony. After approximately three thousand dollars, a fertilized embryo may occur and we call this occurance "life". Make no mistake, these fertilized embryo's are not just some random tissue, replicating willy nilly in a dark, lonely laboratory. These embryo's are actual tiny children, with all the exact same cells and hallmarks as you or I, except that it can fit in a tiny petri dish. These children then are replicated in multiples, as it takes many attempts to finally get a firm implantation in the mother's hormonally enhanced uterus. Yes, God doesn't see fit to give her the proper hormones, so she seeks wisdom from her physician who pumps her full of chemicals in order to better her chances of having one of these multiple children decide to stay for a while.
What then remains of all the mulitples that have no purpose once the mother has finally reached her goal and becomes pregnant? These embryos are not some science experiment that can be discarded as so much trash, these cell groupings are living souls with the imprint of God himself.
If we truly believe this, then each and every embryo that is not implanted into the mother ought to have a proper funeral and a Christian burial. A respectful graveside service is the least that should be offered for these poor souls that have died, waiting for the mother who, in her hurry to run ahead and play God, has changed the rules once she has recieved the coveted prize, and then lo and behold-these embryos are now expendable. She goes home, flush with the knowledge that she is with child, and leaves the rest of the messy decisions about the disposal of the potential cell groupings to the doctors. Isn't that tidy?
What if, in the absence of finding a uterus to have them, these same embryos could find a home not in a uterus, but perhaps in the body of a seven year old boy with osteosarcoma? What kind of higher calling would that lend to an embryo who is otherwise slated for the trash bin? Would not a soul, with all the potential to become a human being, not then be offered the opportunity to become part of the healing of another young soul? This sacred symetry would be so life-giving that each embryo would know it has reached it's full potential in it's tiny lifespan.
John 15:13 "Greater love hath no man than this, that he would lay down his life for his friends."
I challenge anyone who is against the use of stem cells for the healing of another human soul to sit in the hospital room with a child with cancer. Not for an hour, or a day. Sit there day in and day out for a month. Watch that child being poked and prodded, bloated from steroids, bald from the medications and fighting to stay alive.
We have the opportunity to take what has already been created for other reasons, and grant life to an innocent victim of childhood illness. Shame on those who will not share the bounty of their fertile richness to save a dying child. Playing God is fine when you hit the jackpot yourself, owning up to the fact that you've denied that same life to others may be a bit harder to answer for when the roll is called up yonder.
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