• End of Life (aka Death)

    I was pleased this week that the vote in the Scottish Parliament to change the law on so-called assisted dying didn’t manage to make any further progress. Parliamentarians have now had a number of chances to think about this and vote on it and it still failed comprehensively to get anywhere near a majority of parliamentarians supporting it.

    Yet in survey after survey we are told that people support it.

    What’s going on?

    It seems to me that any of us would be frightened of finding ourselves in a situation where we were left alone and in pain. People do die bad deaths alone and in pain in Scotland. Somehow many people then manage to make a jump in their heads to saying that the law should be changed to allow people to request help to end their lives.

    I can’t make that jump myself. The current situation seems to me to be the right one. I have no problem with the idea that a doctor might give a treatment that improved the quality of someone’s life whilst knowing that the life itself might be shortened by doing so. I do have a problem with a drug being given or withheld where the very purpose is to hasten life.

    To put it bluntly, if people are frightened of the idea of individuals dying alone and in pain then there are things we can do about that that fall a long way short of killing people off.

    I don’t want to see the law changed but I do want to see a lot of things surrounding death to be changed.

    I want hospices to be better funded.
    I want more palliative care consultants to be trained.
    I want money to be put into pain clinics.
    I want more research to be put into pain relief.
    And I want us to talk a bit more honestly about who should be with the dying if we don’t want dying people to die alone. Who would actually benefit from lives being shortened at will? The patient is not the only person affected by a death, nor the only possible person to derive any “benefit” from life being cut short.

    These are so sensitive things to talk about and there are far more issues involved in decisions about end of life care than could ever be resolved in a bill in parliament.

    It is good that people are talking about this more. The “death cafe” movement seems to me to be a good thing. Allowing people who are living to talk about the business of dying has to be positive. Sometimes we get into those kind of issues when I’m doing my “Plan your own funeral” workshop – which I’ve just been asked to do in other parts of the diocese too.

    I recently conducted the funeral of someone who had had that kind of conversation about his funeral just a couple of weeks before he actually died. It was the most profound thing to have happened, and in the end one of the most profound and beautiful funerals that left me completely in awe of the person who had died and the plans he had made.

    Parliamentarians have difficult decisions to make here. We all do. But the priority must be to protect the vulnerable. My judgement is different to the judgement of many and even maybe the majority. I don’t think the vulnerable would be best served by changing the law.

    Doctors need to be able to make informed decisions and help others to make informed decisions but we are in an area where sometimes decisions will be tested hard. I’m not alone in thinking that things have become harder for many doctors since Harold Shipman’s crimes were revealed. No doctor wants to be accused to acting too swiftly. No health authority wants to risk harbouring someone who simply wants to kill. But we must be wary of restrictions on care that might prevent doctors taking action which relieves pain where that might be possible.

    If I were dying and in terrible pain, would I not want my life to be ended more quickly and more intentionally and more humanely? Well maybe I would. But I’m not the only person in the world and that description of someone dying doesn’t come close to the complexity of what really happens when someone’s life is drawing to a close. There are far more people to think about – not just relatives but those who will die after we do.

    So yes, I want pain to be relieved. Yes, I can imagine situations where I’d prefer to die than to live. But no, for the good of those who are vulnerable, for the good of those whose deaths would be a relief to others, for the good of those who are vulnerable and often least able to make autonomous choices, for all their sakes, I don’t think that the law should be changed.

24 responses to “Good Vicar, Bad Vicar”

  1. Josh Avatar

    Being a good vicar to stony, unreceptive hearts might require a pickaxe to reveal gemstones within. It must be tough to minister to jerks and meanies, no? We lose faith in people easily – I certainly do. But a good vicar – a loving parent – doesn’t give on up one’s children.

    A good vicar might depend on the eye of the beholder. Whether you believe vicars and congregations are intrinsically good or evil might get you called a Pelagian or an Augustinian depending on who you ask. Faith in the work of a vicar or the reception of the congregation depends on good faith and co-operation – what then do we place our faith in? Hardly Protestant thinking, when faith is dependent on work, manifestation, and epiphany. A bad vicar might be sent to good people. A good vicar might be sent to bad people. Whether a vicar or congregation is subjectively or objectively good is a difficult question to answer.

    It is then that I prefer to see both the vicar and congregation not as “good” or “bad” but rather as equally “beloved”. However large the congregation, or even the vicar’s skill shouldn’t matter then. But that raises the question: Who then do we love if we are so beloved by God? Perhaps love might be the answer. A vicar and congregation who sees and knows themselves as equally and lavishly beloved of God will love each other. Love makes congregations meaningful and precious, no matter how small they might be.

  2. Josh Avatar

    And if I might add to my previous comment – And love also makes vicars meaningful and precious, no matter how small the congregation might be.

  3. Rosemary Hannah Avatar
    Rosemary Hannah

    Yes – things which make the practicalities of small congregations include:
    the laity in most senior positions find it hard to see the inclusive love of God and to see the value of prayer and spiritual exercises, a shortage of laity with administrative abilities, a tiny handful of parishioners prepared to insist on unhelpful things all the time (the oldest liturgies every week, the kind of behaviour small children cannot sustain all service long, particular dress in those at church on Sunday to name but a tiny selection). In a larger church these things can be contained (one nasty comment for lady x outweighed by five or six lovely ones or simply finding somebody to be treasurer who can cope with the job). In a small church, however good the vicar, the nasty comment carries more weight, and the sorting out of the finances may take days of clergy effort. It is always hard to get from a tiny congregation to a large one.

    That said, I have sat through sermons so mind-numbingly boring and inappropriate that I have actually moved to another church.

  4. Paul Waddington Avatar
    Paul Waddington

    If one looks at the larger picture, the Archbishop’s optimism seems misplaced.

    According to the 1851 census, about five million people attended a Church of England service on the census day (a Sunday). The population of England and Wales at the time was about 17 million. These are round figures and I know that there were difficulties with the religious census, but they are good enough to demonstrate my point. Roughly speaking, about 30% of the population attended a CofE that Sunday.

    Recently published figures estimate average Sunday attendance at CofE churches at about 900,000. That is about 2% of the population of England. Wales is now excluded.

    So taking the long view, the trend is rather depressing for the CofE. Compared with 1851, fourteen out of fifteen no longer attend church regularly.

    As an aside, the 1851 census indicated a church attendance for Catholics of about 350,000. That is about 2% of the population. I understand that the current figure is very similar for Mass attendance is also around 900,000 or 2% of the population.

    Other recent research has indicated that the age range of CofE congregations is skewed towards the upper end. Certainly in my local parish, it is unusual to see anyone under the age of 60. I do wonder how many there will be in, say, 15 years time.

    1. Kelvin Avatar

      Thanks Paul – I find that bishops generally tend to accentuate the positive when it comes to thinking about numbers in church. Whether that is because they only go to events that are comparatively well attended or whether it is actually because it is their job to be upbeat about possibilities is not clear to me.

  5. Pam Avatar
    Pam

    It is complicated – ‘good’ and ‘bad’ – poor adjectives. The rector is the leader of the congregation and needs support and trust. But, I think, no longer is the vicar held in such esteem as not to have to earn that support and trust. A good thing, mostly. Churches grow for all sorts of reasons – the level of involvement with non-believers, a prominent noticeboard and outstanding bikke and slice-makers all help.

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