On Friday morning at 12:15 a.m., some loved ones and I left our homes into the frigid 19-degree night to join a bus headed to the March for Life in Washington, D.C. The bus was filled to capacity, and after a mostly sleepless night in cramped seats, we were all awakened near sunrise to pray the Sorrowful Mysteries of the Rosary as we crossed the Potomac River into the District of Columbia.
It was a Catholic group, with the bus reserved by a parish up the highway in snowy Meadville, Pennsylvania. For these pilgrims, the view of the Passion of our Lord — His agony, torture, and death — was a fitting lens to view the start of the day. Because of the original Good Friday, every Friday is held in the Church as a day of penance and sorrow. I’ve thus long appreciated that the March for Life is always held on a Friday.
As we march to honor and mourn the millions of children in our country who have been slaughtered in the womb, as we call out the evil of abortion and petition for its end, we take the day seriously and somberly, wearying and long as it is, as an opportunity to pray by word and action for the end of abortion.
This brings me to my first observation on the March for Life: there are always more pilgrims than there are protestors. We pilgrims endure a tiring trip, though our pain is miniscule in comparison to that endured by the lost babies we remember.
As for my group, we first stop at the Basilica of the National Shrine of the Immaculate Conception, arriving for 8:00 a.m. Mass, before heading toward the Washington Mall and the U.S. Supreme Court building. We spend the day standing with large groups or in long lines. There are pilgrims of all faiths, but the majority are from Catholic universities, churches, and religious orders. This is made audible by a constant flow of hymns and the “Hail Mary” sung and chanted all around.
A smaller group like mine bobs from one section of marchers to the next, but the hymns and Hail Mary’s are a constant. Crucifixes and high-held banners of the Blessed Mother and the Christ child float above the crowd to mark the different pilgrim groups from across the country. They come with happy, sacrificial hearts that gladly bear a pebble in the shoe for the suffering soul in the womb. Actually, at this time of year, it’s a pebble in the snowboot accompanying the coats, scarves, and hats to try to stay warm.
April may be the best time for folks longing to go on pilgrimages, but January is the best time for this march, despite the troublesome weather. The brutality of the weather accentuates the sobriety of the event, almost poetically tied to the fateful January day in 1973 when the Roe v. Wade decision was rendered. Past trips have featured pouring rain, road-imperiling snow, turnpike closures, and DC itself shut down because of other January extremes.
This year, the weather at the nation’s capital was actually fairly mild by mid-day — sunny and mid-30s — but the shivers every year are valuably accepted as a pain shared with the babies aborted and as prayers offered up that those currently in the womb will be protected.
The Joy of Life
But we do not merely present a funeral march to the American people. We start the day with the Sorrowful Mysteries, but tied to the sorrow is an inseparable joy and hope that pervades the day. That brings me to my second observation about the March for Life: despite the somber occasion, the mood of the whole assembly is overwhelmingly joyful.
Why is this? We know that we march in grief for the unborn, but it is not a grief of despair. For the pilgrim, with every grief there is hope — hope in the final resurrection thanks to the redemption bought by the Cross, but also hope that here on earth, in the present, the laws of the land can be changed. With the Dobbs decision in June 2022 and the blessed overturning of Roe v. Wade, we see hope at times vindicated.
I think the chief reason that pro-lifers have so much joy is because they are genuinely pro-life. We are not just pro-birth or pro-baby. The pro-life movement knows the beauty of life, the beauty of being alive, and you can see the light of this knowledge in the light of their eyes. They are not spiritually oppressed or starved by what Pope John Paul II called the “culture of death.” They know the joy of living and the blessing that life is, and they are eager to help future generations experience the beautiful gift of life. While the culture of death exudes sorrow, the culture of life breathes joy.
And so, while we pilgrims acknowledge the sorrowful things, we know that hope can be turned to joy. We walk under the shadow of the death of the unborn, but freed from the fear of that evil. We sing of the beauty of life because we believe that life is worth living, and it is worth bringing children into the world to experience. We do not stomp our feet in resentment and anger (as one might expect of a protest against so great an injustice), but rather march in the merciful love and forgiveness that Christ longs to give every person, including those who had a hand in abortion, because we have received such forgiveness ourselves.
Above all, we pilgrims know that He came as a baby to deliver this forgiveness to the world and bring us life. And for this, we are most joyful.
READ MORE:
March for Life Showcases Pro-Life Movement’s Strength Amid Setbacks
Trump Pardons Biden-Targeted Pro-Life Activists
Abigail Kengor is a student at Grove City College. Her writings have appeared in Crisis Magazine, The Quad, St. Mary’s Messenger, and other publications.