Betsy Kneepkens: Get out of the comfort zone and join 40 Days for Life

Faith and Family 

I have been uncomfortable enough, so I don’t have to put myself in situations where I am uneasy. I have moments where I believe I put enough time in, thinking someone else can pick up the torch. I am still passionate about the same issues and support causes I believe in, but I have those instances where I am sick of sticking my neck out or being bold in public. It seems to me I should relax more, stay comfortable, attend Catholic-only functions, listen to speakers I agree with, and be done stretching myself. 

When I get into a complacent mode, something yanks me back to reality. I feel a kick in the back end that tells me, “Who do you think you are? The work of discipleship never ends.” Yes, I must remind myself that there is no place in the comfort zone for Catholics. Every October for the past 10 years, I get that wake-up call: staying silent and unchallenged will not get the work of the Lord done. 

Starting at the end of September and running through the beginning of November is the 40 Days for Life Campaign at the only abortion clinic in our diocese. This 40-day vigil is a peaceful, prayerful movement that asks participants to pray at the clinic and fast throughout the 40 days to end abortion. 

I am not always comfortable participating in this prayer vigil, but I do it anyway. I will not say my experience is joyful or rewarding, or I know I will get more out of the experience than I give. I will say that my brief discomfort is nothing compared to the reality that nearly 500 babies’ lives will end at 103 E. First St. in Duluth this year. As I pray, I don’t want to think about that little one tucked so safely and cozy in their mother’s womb as she crosses the clinic’s threshold. Or witness, when she exits, the distortion that everything seems normal even though her motherhood has been terminated. Those moments are heart-wrenching, and I want to avoid the scenario, but I can’t. 

Typically, the weather at the vigil is nice, but not always. Most people drive by and say nothing; some will beep their horns angrily, and a small percentage will shout nasty things or share inappropriate gestures. I find these moments unappealing. 

However, I can be confident we are stirring someone’s conscience. For those who stop and pray with you, say a quick and quiet thank you, or approach you with curiosity, you are reminded that unpleasantries are only part of the process of coming to know the truth. 

If you go often enough, you may start getting to know people who live in the area. You will meet some who struggle with addiction, a handful of people who are homeless, and others who are simply downtrodden. Encounters with the neighbors may initially feel unfamiliar, but you will often grow in relationship and quickly learn that most support the vigil's efforts. I was surprised by these individuals’ support for life, but I should not have been. I recognize now it is hard to know you live in an area with a business that eliminates the unborn when they are perceived as making a mother’s life difficult. If I were a neighbor living a difficult life, I would be offended if a solution for struggle was a death sentence. 

Although the vigil remains peaceful, those associated with the clinic have become more organized and have more aggressive protests. Their volunteers and employees sometimes shout anti-life sentiments and use their bodies to shield women entering the building from those of us praying for them and their babies. I wouldn’t say I like it, but the clinic workers have a right to hang posters that distort pro-life views. Most of their sidewalk chalking is the same repetitive talking points as, “my body, my choice” or “keep your rosary off my ovaries.” 

There is one chalked message I still cannot get out of my head: “God Bless Abortion,” which is, for me, the most offensive statement I have ever heard. As anger and antagonism are hurled at us, the peace and prayers we project back at them are one of the most profound misdirections I have ever encountered. The battle between good and evil is palpable and reminds me that this effort is necessary. 

Some fellow prolifers have said they choose not to pray at the clinic because they worry about being labeled a radical or being discovered by friends or co-workers. Not being able to be true to what you believe is a pathetic reality of today’s culture, and I get that. 

Fortunately, I am unaware of anyone I know who questions my position on this issue. I strive to be respectful, show dignity to those I disagree with, and work hard to help mothers in need before and after birth, but I remain clear this is the greatest injustice of our time. 

With that said, the fear of being “discovered’ has always been a nonissue for me. I do get disheartened that we live in a country where a fundamental life issue cannot be openly debated without one feeling degraded. I am uncomfortable with the fact that in a society that claims to be free, you really are not free to speak the truth. 

I want to live in a state where life is cherished. Minnesota is not one of those states. In fact, life is less respected in our state than any other state in the nation. Every time the thought to move crosses my mind, I remember being Catholic means you stand up for the poor, the marginalized, and those that don’t have a voice. No situation or person fits that category more closely than the unborn. 

I guess if I decided to seek a more comfortable approach, I stop being Catholic, and that is a life I am not willing to accept. So, I have no other choice. You will see me again at 103 E. First St. Consider joining me and all those other prayer warriors as we do what we can to end abortion. 

Betsy Kneepkens is director of the Office of Marriage, Family, and Life for the Diocese of Duluth and a mother of six.