Sermon: We Are The Ones, By Rev. Meagan Henry

“We are the ones we’ve been waiting for” … these are the words of June Jordan from her Poem, In Honor of South African Women.

Growing up in the Bible Belt region of the South in the 1980’s and ‘90’s, I had a front row seat to the growth of the anti-abortion movement. It was an ugly and vicious movement. Probably uglier and way more vicious than you realize or remember. Women’s health clinics were fire-bombed. People entering clinics were attacked, sometimes physically, and always verbally with people screaming in their faces. The anti-abortion group, Operation Rescue, blocked clinic doors with protestors sitting and lying on the ground so that patients had to literally be lifted and carried over them. When they reached the door, the staff inside the clinic would have to push the door open against the protestors just enough for the patient to slip through the opening to safety inside. Depending on the state and county, there was little to no police intervention. And that is not even the worst of it. Doctors who provided abortion care were assassinated. In the early days of the internet, a list of women’s health care providers and home addresses was circulated. It would be updated with a red line through the names of the doctors who’d been killed. A hit list of abortion providers, created by terrorists who called themselves “pro-life.” 

I share this history because we must understand the depth and violence of opposition that reproductive healthcare providers and patients have faced – and continue to face. Witnessing this violence as teenagers gave me and my friends a lot to be angry and fearful about. It made us angry at religion, at the police, at the system as a whole that seemed to support this violence by pretty much looking the other way. We felt like, as young female-identified people, our freedoms were not only not guaranteed, but they were very much under attack. We felt so angry that we’d been told we had equal rights when we so clearly did not. In short, these attacks radicalized us. We were the lucky ones. Others were crushed by a feeling of helplessness and hopelessness under this oppression. 

It turned out, however, that my circle wasn’t so alone. What I came to learn later is that while some religious groups wielded their faith as a weapon, other religious leaders saw a different calling. They understood that the true work of faith is not to condemn, but to support those in need with compassion and courage. 

Now, we are the ones who’ve been called to stand against such violence.

In 1967, when abortion was still illegal in most states, a group of ministers and rabbis, including several Unitarian Universalist clergy, formed the Clergy Consultation Service. While Operation Rescue was blocking clinic doors, these religious leaders were opening doors – creating networks of safe care, counseling women with compassion, and standing publicly for the right of individuals to make their own moral choices about reproduction. They put their freedom on the line, risking arrest to help people access safe medical care. They understood that reproductive justice is, at its heart, about human dignity – a core value of our UU faith. 

Just as they answered the call then, we are the ones being called today. 

The UU leaders who joined the Clergy Consultation Service embodied values that remain at the heart of our faith today. Their work shows us how our deepest religious values call us to reproductive justice work. Deep values such as those articulated in Unitarian Universalist by-laws as adopted by the member congregations:  justice, equity, transformation, pluralism, generosity, and interdependence.

You may wonder: How do those values manifest in this fight? Justice and Equity remind us that reproductive rights are fundamentally about human rights and dignity.

Transformation calls us not just to provide care, but to transform the systems that create reproductive healthcare inequities.

Pluralism teaches us that there is no single religious or moral truth about reproduction that should be imposed on everyone equally. We are called by our UU faith to honor the diverse ways people understand these deeply personal decisions.

We already live this value through the Our Whole Lives program, offering comprehensive sexuality education that honors human dignity and diverse experiences. Our Kindergarten and 1st grade OWL class begins next week. Right this very moment, our middle schoolers are engaging in this transformative learning.

Generosity calls us to open our hearts, our doors, and our resources to support reproductive healthcare access – just as those clergy members did decades ago, often at great personal risk.

These values, OUR values remind us: we are the ones who must put love into action.

Our UU principle of interdependence teaches us that reproductive justice isn’t a single issue, nor is it an isolated one – it’s connected to every struggle for human dignity and liberation. We see this in profound and practical ways:

When we talk about economic justice, we must ask: Who can afford contraception, prenatal care, or the costs of raising a child – and who cannot? Who can take time off work to travel hundreds of miles to access care – and who cannot? Who has paid family leave – and who does not? And let’s just name the truth: that wealthy people will always have access to safe abortions, regardless of the law, while the poor are punished, in essence, for their economic position. 

When we stand in solidarity with immigrants, we must face the horrific reality of sexual assault in detention centers and the separation of parents from children. There is no prenatal healthcare or reproductive care in most if not all immigrant detention centers.

When we work for LGBTQ+ liberation, we’re fighting for everyone’s right to bodily autonomy and family formation. Trans and nonbinary people face particular barriers in accessing reproductive healthcare, often encountering discrimination or providers who either don’t understand their needs or refuse to care for them, especially in rural areas.

When we confront systemic racism, we must acknowledge the long history of reproductive oppression used against communities of color – from forced sterilization to maternal mortality rates that disproportionately impact Black women. In the United States, Black birthing people are three times more likely to die due to complications during pregnancy, childbirth and postpartum life than white birthing people.

When we fight for environmental justice, we recognize how environmental toxins and climate disasters affect maternal and child health, particularly in marginalized communities. During ever-worsening climate disasters, people in need of healthcare are often left without access. In the U.S., Nine of the 10 states most likely to suffer dire consequences from climate change are in the South, a region that also contains states with some of the most restrictive abortion bans. Looking abroad, during Pakistan’s extreme floods in 2022, roughly 650,000 pregnant Pakistanis found themselves without necessary prenatal care.

And when we work for peace, we must address how women in conflict zones face increased sexual violence and decreased access to reproductive healthcare. War doesn’t just destroy infrastructure – it destroys access to all forms of healthcare. In March 2022, a Ukrainian maternity hospital was bombed by Russian forces, taking one pregnant woman’s life while injuring – and traumatizing – several others. Throughout the Israel-Hamas war, tens of thousands of pregnant women gave birth in tents with bombs dropping around them, some having c-sections with no anesthesia. 

As you can see, these connections aren’t abstract – they are lived realities of people in our community and around the world. Understanding these intersections helps us build a more comprehensive vision of justice, one that recognizes that reproductive justice can’t exist without racial justice, economic justice, environmental justice, and peace. 

In this web of connection, we are the ones who must protect and strengthen every strand.

And right now, this web of interconnected justice issues is under unprecedented strain. The consequences of repealing Roe v. Wade have already been significant. Accessing any kind of reproductive-related care – not just abortive care – is now measurably harder. In part because the doctors themselves are leaving these states, because they cannot do their jobs, despite hating to leave anyone behind. 

More parents – and more children – are dying. In the 18 months after the US supreme court overturned Roe v Wade, leading more than a dozen states to implement near-total abortion bans, hundreds more babies died than in previous years. This is because pregnant people are now being forced to carry fetuses to term that are known to be incompatible with life. Abortion bans have also threatened pregnant women’s health. Dozens of pregnant people from across the country have said that, due to highly restrictive bans, they were denied medically necessary abortions.

Rape survivors have been forced to carry resulting pregnancies to term by the tens of thousands. And, there are also concerns about a still-incoming domino effect where other aspects of sexual, bodily or personal autonomy will be under attack, now that protections under Roe are gone. And let’s just also name the truth that the leader of our nation is a rapist.

This reality demands action from people of faith. Just as the Clergy Consultation Service responded to the crisis of their time, we are called to respond to ours. In this critical moment, we are the ones being called to act.

The religious leaders who formed the Clergy Consultation Service in 1967 showed us that faith communities can be powerful forces for reproductive justice. Today, we’re called to continue their legacy in new ways. 

First, we can make our congregation a sanctuary of support. We can host educational forums about reproductive justice, provide meeting space for organizers, and create support circles for those navigating reproductive healthcare decisions.

Second, we can put our resources into action:

• Support the New York Abortion Access Fund, which helps people access care regardless of their ability to pay
• Volunteer and support Planned Parenthood of Greater New York. A member of their staff is here today and will be at a table in the Undercroft during fellowship hour after the service. She will be joined by our Social Justice committee co-chair Emily Hockaday, and Lee Pardee who volunteers with the Haven Coalition and can tell you about that work which brings me to my next action which is to…
• Volunteer with the Haven Coalition, which provides overnight housing and support for people traveling to NYC for abortion care. 

Third, we can be public witnesses for reproductive justice:

• Show up at city council and state legislative hearings
• Write letters to editors identifying ourselves as people of faith who support reproductive rights
• Support comprehensive sex education in our schools, and continue investing in our own Our Whole Lives program – a living example of how faith communities can provide young people with the knowledge and values they need to make informed decisions about their bodies and relationships. I’ve personally witnessed this transformative power in the lives of our young people. 

Finally, and perhaps most importantly, we can break the silence around reproductive justice in our own lives. We can share our stories, support our friends and family members, and challenge the shame and stigma.

The clergy who risked arrest in the 1960s didn’t have certainty – they had conviction. They didn’t have permission – they had purpose. The clinic escorts, doctors and nurses who risked their lives during the height of the Operation Rescue movement did so because of their conviction and purpose, their courage and commitment. 

Today, we are called to act with similar courage and commitment, grounded in our values and strengthened by our love for humanity. 

Like those brave ones who went before us, we are the ones we’ve been waiting for. The time is now, and we are the ones who must answer this call.

May it be so.