What is in Kelvin's Head?

Lord Carey is wrong (and not for the first time)

12/07/2014

The ability of Lord Carey to dominate the headlines during the synod of the Church of England is something that is a wonder of modern ecclesiastical communications. If I were working in the communications machine of the C of E, I’d despair of the former archbishop’s ability to step into the limelight just when one would be trying to get some kind of coherent message across.

Lord Carey makes me feel sympathy for the Church of England, its synod and its communication team. Such is his impact. He is not to be underestimated.

So, what are we to make of his statement that he is now in favour of Assisted Suicide, having been against it previously?

I’ve not written much about this topic. It is a sensitive one and one which divides people in unpredictable ways. Working in the church, you kind of get used to the way we divide on many issues. (Those who are most antagonistic to women clergy are often the most antagonistic to gay men living lives of openness etc). However in this case, I think that we divide differently and unpredictably.

I’m not persuaded by Lord Carey’s argument and don’t favour any change to the law.

I’m familiar with the argument that we must do all we can to eliminate suffering and that sometimes life has just become intolerable. I have every sympathy with those who have seen someone die in pain and distress and would do anything to have made it easier. Of course I would.

But I am also aware that people don’t die in a neat predictable way. Nor do they die isolated from the values and needs of those who are left behind. The relationship between those whose life is coming to an end is inevitably bound up with the lives of those who seek to care for them and those who perhaps should care for them but who don’t find themselves able to do so.

Offering the choice to die inevitably puts new burdens on those who are dying as well as on those who are around them. I’m unpersuaded at this time that it is in the best interests of society as a whole for the moral right of one individual within that complex of relationships to automatically trump every other consideration.

Now that’s a hard position for me to take because of two things. Firstly, I believe that we should seek to relieve suffering and act to reduce pain. I don’t believe that there is anything good about pain and unlike many religious people I think that it has no redemptive quality at all. Secondly because I think we need to give as much autonomy to the individual as we can.

How can I come to the view that I do then that Lord Carey is wrong?

Well, it isn’t just the dying person who suffers pain at the time of a death. Nor is all pain caused by purely physical causes. I’m simply unpersuaded on pragmatic grounds that allowing Assisted Suicide will lead to an overall reduction in pain to humanity. Secondly, I don’t believe that a patient has absolute autonomy if there is an economic or emotional factor in their dying that can benefit others. When people die these things are all around.

My objection to Assisted Suicide is not a particularly religious one. At least I don’t think so.

The only religious reason that I can think of which supports my position is that I think it is incumbent on the Christian to care for the vulnerable. The dying are incredibly vulnerable. They are vulnerable to those who would like them to get on with it. Those can be relatives but equally they can be doctors and health service managers too.

I can’t see any protections that could remove that vulnerability.

The reality is, not everyone dies in a middle class way with articulate, caring people around them who stand to gain nothing from their death.

For these practical, emotional and probably inconsistent reasons, I can’t support a change in the law.

Though I know many good people who will agree with him, I have to admit that, not for the first time, I think Lord Carey is wrong.

assisted suicide

24 responses to “Good Vicar, Bad Vicar”

Josh

02/01/2014

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.

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Josh

02/01/2014

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.

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Rosemary Hannah

02/01/2014

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.

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Paul Waddington

04/01/2014

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.

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1. Kelvin
  
  04/01/2014
  
  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.
  
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Pam

04/01/2014

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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