Viewpoints: Even The Smallest Effort Makes A Difference

JOE O’FARRELL, Special Contributor

Published: October 21, 2004

Just four years ago I was working in the midst of the excitement of a national presidential campaign, in a career that offered unique experiences with seemingly endless opportunity.

The job was the culmination of a four-year ambitious scheme that was, if all went according to plan, to land me in the White House. “Joe O’Farrell, I’m with the President”—that had a nice ring to it, I’d say. Prior to joining Al Gore’s 2000 campaign, I had worked in the office of Gov. Roy Barnes and coordinated events for President Bill Clinton and Vice-President Gore all over the country.

Everything seemed perfect but wasn’t. In every case the men I worked for were either indifferent to, or fully in support of, the current U.S. abortion laws.

The presidential campaign was something I enjoyed on many levels—working with important people, the Secret Service, senior campaign and White House staff. I was living the fast life with the single-minded goal of getting to Pennsylvania Avenue. My career was going very well.

However, my Catholic upbringing is rooted deeply in me, and a part of me always felt uneasy about what I was doing. My blind ambition, the travel, busy pace and schedule made for good distraction but even with all this, over time I found it harder and harder to face myself in the mirror.

I had always thought of myself as a pro-life person. And suddenly, in my work, I was doing nothing to defend the rights of the unborn. Sometimes I wondered if it was all a test. I pushed this issue to the back of my mind and ignored it at every opportunity. The knowledge that I was turning my back on God and this cause was always there. Continually making excuses, I tried to bury the emotions that were tearing me up inside.

In pursuing my career, I would think about the heights to which I would rise within the Gore administration and all the good I would be able to do when I arrived in Washington. I would point to the kind, well-intentioned volunteers that I’d meet all across the country and tell myself that abortion was only one issue. I had many excuses and loopholes ready to counter the feelings of betrayal in my heart.

As I pushed away from these uncomfortable feelings, I clung to the campaign and the political community that seemed to welcome me. I enjoyed the idea of belonging to something special and feeling like I was making a positive contribution. In a feeble effort to placate my conscience, I drew a line between what I would and wouldn’t do. At the events I managed, I never passed out the familiar blue circular placards that read “Keep Abortion Legal.” I would hide the signs under a box or behind a door to make sure they weren’t used. Later, I would proudly speak of this to friends while I was really masking the shame of my unwillingness to do more.

But mostly I kept silent.

In August of 2000, I traveled to the Democratic National Convention in Los Angeles. Working as an advance aide to Sen. Joe Lieberman, I had access to everything and witnessed every type of protest and demonstration for and against causes close to people’s hearts. The demonstrators who stand out most clearly in my memory were the pro-life protesters who carried and displayed the large graphic photos that show the horror of killing unborn children. The images brought tears to my eyes.

While there, I attended a party at the ranch of a Hollywood producer entitled, “Hollywood Salutes President Clinton.” This event was swimming in movie and TV stars with all the glamour of Hollywood.

As I looked around, I tried to embrace every little bit of the excitement, but I felt unable to experience a real joy. I knew I was not “at home,” and I knew this was not a world I could ever accept or one that would accept me. I felt uneasy and unwelcome, though not for anything clearly understandable. I shook off these feelings.

As the event concluded, we walked down to the bottom of the driveway, and I noticed a small group of pro-life protesters with the large photos. They were standing silently across the street, confined by the police. My first instinct was to wince in annoyance at the damper they were putting on the fun. Then I saw women bursting into tears and hiding their faces as their companions led them away. I too turned away and buried my emotions as I greeted an old friend from the ‘96 campaign.

As I walked up the street toward the car, I tried to feel positive about the experience of the evening. I had been a guest at the best party the world could create. Every star imaginable was there. I had met the rich and famous of Hollywood. Still, I couldn’t feel good or free from guilt; the tug of God and the knowledge that I was in a place far away from him was painful and desperate. It was as though the Holy Spirit was trying to open my heart to some deeper truth—yet still I was resisting.

As we drove out of the area, we again passed the protesters who remained on their small patch of grass across from the party. I was compelled to look, and I caught the eye of a young girl, just a teenager, standing with the group. She looked straight into my eyes as our van passed by, and although her smiling mouth didn’t move, I very clearly heard her saying in a soft-happy voice, “What are you doing over there, Joe? You belong with us.”

I can’t explain this, but I believe she was an angel sent to bring me back. I will carry the image of her in my mind forever.

I’d like to say that I had the courage to abandon the campaign that night. I didn’t, but my heart was never in it again. In the months after November 2000, with the defeat in the election behind me, I began to seek God fervently and ask his help in rebuilding my life. The intervening years have been difficult at times, but I’ve also been blessed in a million ways. I abandoned old dreams, ran back to the church and eventually began a new career. Old friends welcomed me home, and new friends strengthened my faith. I met and married the woman of my dreams, and God shows his love for me in innumerable ways.

Since those days I have worked hard to renew my commitment to Jesus and his church. I continue to actively discern God’s will and seek out new ways to use the skills I learned working in politics to serve him. I don’t know what plan God has for me, but as I learn to trust him more I understand that the plan will be a good and beautiful one because it is his.

A few years ago, as I related this experience to a priest friend, he asked me—implored me, really—to tell this story. He said, “The people in the field need to know of the harvest.” So here it is: if you are among those laborers who are brave enough to be true to God, know that people notice and hearts are changed and won back through your work. Even the smallest effort makes a difference. To these people and to God, I am eternally grateful.

Today abortion remains the most difficult and heart wrenching of political issues. It divides the best of friends and separates people who believe that their view is good and right. This issue has split our nation. Science now proves undeniably what I think we knew all along. Life begins at conception. So with the knowledge that protection of God’s greatest gift is at stake, I believe we, as Catholics, must step into the battle. There are no sidelines. These are our children, real lives, not some abstract moral ideal we are struggling with. I believe we must fight; we cannot spend one moment resting.

Joe O’Farrell is a parishioner at the Cathedral of the King, Atlanta.