A Book of American Martyrs(10)

Through the hall there were murmurs of assent. My hands were clenched in fists now, pressing on my knees.

Next, Professor Wohlman told us that he was drawing up a “revolutionary” petition that would be available to us from our church leaders, or from the Coalition newsletter, and he hoped we would take it into our hearts, and tell others about it. He hoped that we would sign this petition and mail copies to a list of individuals which would be posted online and which included our elected officials, our congressmen, and the President of the United States.

“Here is what the petition will say:

“‘We, the undersigned, declare a State of War in the struggle to defend innocent human life.

“‘We declare our allegiance to the Word of Jesus, and not the Law of Man.

“‘We declare that we will not shrink from taking all earthly action required to defend innocent human life—including the use of force.

“‘We declare that whatever force is necessary to defend the life of a born child is legitimate to defend the life of an unborn child.

“‘We declare that the martyrs Michael Griffin, Lionel Greene, Terence Mitchell, though they may have broken the law of the state, have not broken the law of God; though they have shot abortion providers who were about to commit the terrible act of feticide, they are not guilty of murder but of intervening in premeditated murder. That is to say, these courageous men committed acts of defense against murderers not to save their own lives but the lives of unborn children. Therefore, their use of lethal force was justified. We will pray that the court will comprehend this in the case of Terence Mitchell, and acquit him of the charges brought against him by the State of Michigan.”

Professor Wohlman gazed out into the audience as if he were gazing into our hearts. His eyes searched us out row upon row. His eyes moved upon me.

To me, Luther Dunphy, the Professor seemed now to speak with special earnestness as he concluded his speech:

“Know you this, my sisters and brothers in Christ: there are martyrs for every cause that speaks to the heart of mankind. It may be that Terence Mitchell will be acquitted—(and will live out his days knowing that he had been forced to shed blood)—or it may be that Terence Mitchell will not be acquitted, like his comrades, and will be incarcerated by the state. Like Michael Griffin and Lionel Greene, he may be sentenced to life in prison. These fates, no one can predict. Yet God observes, and God will reward. There have been martyrs for our cause, and there will be martyrs to come. Pray for our brave martyrs, and pray for ourselves, that we have the strength to act as we must, when we must.”

In the crowded hall there were many cries and murmurs—“Amen.”

And mine among them—“Amen.”


AFTER THE TALK, I remained sitting in my seat. For I could not rouse myself to rise just yet, and depart. Some others also remained in the seats about us while others stood in the aisles speaking to one another in lowered voices.

Edna Mae tugged at my arm, but I could not seem to move. How had it happened, the Professor had addressed me.

“What is this, Luther? Where are we? Why are we here?”—Edna Mae spoke with a vague sort of anxiety, yet smiling, or trying to smile, hesitantly touching my arm.

It was disturbing to me, to see how my dear wife, though (I was sure) she’d been listening intently to the Professor for the past hour, had now the air of one who has been wakened from a dream and has no clear idea where she is.

Gently I explained to Edna Mae where we were, and why we had come to Huntington, West Virginia, that evening with friends from our church. A faint recollection came into her worried eyes.

I had no doubt that Edna Mae would soon realize where we were, especially when she saw familiar faces. As often when she has taken her medication, as prescribed by our doctor, she requires a few minutes to orient herself if she is in an unfamiliar place, once I have explained to her where we are.

“And where are the children, Luther?—outside in the car?”

“No, dear. We didn’t bring them, remember? They are back home safely.”

This was a strange way to speak—back home safely. As if the children had been away, and had returned home. As often it happened when I spoke, because I am not so easy with speaking as others, and if someone is looking at my mouth, I would say words that came to my lips without understanding what I said.

“We’re in Huntington, West Virginia, dear. But now we’re headed home.”

“Of course—‘West Virginia.’ I knew this.” Edna Mae smiled, a childish-sly smile, to hide her confusion. “—I was testing you, Luther.”

Edna Mae had not noticed that her wadded tear-dampened tissue had fallen to the floor and so quickly I stooped to pick it up and hide it away in my pocket. Trying not to think that the Edna Mae of a few months ago would have been stricken with embarrassment, at such personal carelessness for which she’d often scolded the children. As she’d have been at the sight of herself in the rumpled raincoat with matted hair brushed behind her ears, a smear of lipstick on her mouth and what might have been spots of “rouge” on her sallow cheeks.

On the walk outside the hall several members of the congregation were waiting for us, for we would drive home together in a kind of caravan, into the night.

Reverend Dennis and the others were speaking excitedly of the meeting. I was sorry to seem abrupt with them for I could not trust myself to speak in a normal way, after Professor Wohlman’s words that had entered my heart. Also it was painful to me, to observe others speaking with my dear wife, and Edna Mae attempting to answer them, for I did not like the way their eyes moved over her, the women’s eyes especially, with the greed of birds pecking in the dirt.