Frederica Mathewes-Green is a wide-ranging author who has published 11 books and 800 essays, in such diverse publications as the Washington Post, Christianity Today, Smithsonian, and the Wall Street Journal. She has been a regular commentator for National Public Radio (NPR), a columnist for the Religion News Service, Beliefnet.com, and Christianity Today, and a podcaster for Ancient Faith Radio. (She was also a consultant for Veggie Tales.) She has published 11 books, and has appeared as a speaker over 600 times, at places like Yale, Harvard, Princeton, Wellesley, Cornell, Calvin, Baylor, and Westmont, and received a Doctor of Letters (honorary) from King University. She has been interviewed over 700 times, on venues like PrimeTime Live, the 700 Club, NPR, PBS, Time, Newsweek, and the New York Times. She lives with her husband, the Rev. Gregory Mathewes-Green, in Johnson City, TN. Their three children are grown and married, and they have fifteen grandchildren.
[The Remnant, January 20, 1992]
The abortion debate seems like an unresolvable conflict of rights: the right of women to control their own bodies, the right of children to be born. Can one both support women's rights and oppose abortion?
Truly supporting women's rights must involve telling the truth about abortion and working for it to cease.
[Living Church, June 28, 1992]
“It's like trying to grab a handful of jello!” A frustrated conservative Episcopalian was trying to describe his attempts to dialogue with members of the liberal wing. “We all use the same words, but we mean different things,” said another. “I want to talk things out and identify our differences, but it seems like that's bad manners‑‑if we talk about differences, we're being divisive,” contributed a third.
[Sisterlife, Spring 1991]
On June 4, 1990, Jack Kevorkian attached Alzheimer's patient Janet Adkins to a homemade contraption in his 1968 VW bus, then watched her push the activating button that made her die.
Public reaction was swift and generally negative. Judge Alice Gilbert, in barring Kevorkian from ever again using the device, charged that he “flagrantly violated” all standards of medical practice.
[Sisterlife, Spring 1992]
On April 5, 1992 , the National Organization of Women sponsored an event in defense of abortion; delegations from women's groups marched through the streets of Washington , DC , united by the slogan “We Won't Go Back.” But the march organizers intended the day to be a time of, at least, looking back: “We want to tie our current challenge to the historic fight for women's rights waged by our foremothers,” they wrote in a letter to women's groups.
[The World and I, May 1992]
Major movements begin with dreams and end with mechanics.
The term “feminism” is almost inextricably bound up in the public mind with access to abortion, provided (as a recent Fund for the Feminist Majority mailing puts it) “without restrictions”. A kind of red fury surrounds this demand, one that is presented as beyond negotiation and even beyond discussion.
[World, September, 14]
There are many ways to act out pro-life convictions, and a surprising number of people do so by singing. A recent survey of the field yielded over 40 titles of pro-life songs, and the list is certainly incomplete.
There are two album-length collections of pro-life music, plus many singles and amateur songs. The first album, “Sing Out for Life,”
[World, April 17, 1993]
Thanks to the eclectic tastes of my thirteen-year-old son, whenever a tape player is on I'm apt to be serenaded by one of the Pauls--Simon or McCartney. Hours of exposure have reaquainted me with these luminaries of my adolesence, and have led, surprisingly, to new reflections on the mystery of election.
[Human Life Review, Spring 1993] “Are you sure?”
The question caught me off guard. I had been rattling on to my friend Mark Crutcher about the terrible abortion law just passed by the Maryland legislature, the appalling anti-woman provisions, the consternation of the pro-life community, and had wound up with the assertion that we wanted to bring it to referendum.
[National Catholic Reporter, February 5, 1993]
Linda was six months pregnant the first time I saw her. Her mother had kicked her out of the house, and the homeless shelter only allowed her two weeks, so she was about to be homeless again. When Linda came to stay with us, she brought all her earthly belongings were in a black plastic garbage bag; about half was stuffed animals.
[First Things, December 1994]
Paul Hill's thesis has sometimes been expanded into “the big what-if,” the scenario often used to challenge pacifists. What if you had to defend your own children from a criminal? Wouldn't deadly force be justified then?
Anyone finds such a prospect deeply distressing. But the very impact of this image hinders us from realizing that shooting an abortionist fails the analogy in three important ways.