• Presumed Consent

    Last night the Welsh Assembly agreed a new policy of presumed consent with regard to organ donation. Now, instead of opting to become an organ donor, in Wales it will be presumed that a person is willing to donate their organs after death, unless they have opted out.

    I find this one an incredibly tough call, but I think that the Welsh Assembly is wrong. I’m opposed to presumed consent. I think it is wrong.

    And yet I’m in favour of organ donation. I am on the register of organ donors. I recently had to renew my driving license and happily ticked the box indicating that I would be happy to consent to my organs being used to give life to someone else after I die.

    My problem with presumed consent is that I have a problem with presumed anything. The dominant discourse in medical ethics hitherto has been around the the notion of informed consent. Presumed consent undermines this significantly. It also changes the relationship between the state and the individual in a way that makes me feel very uncomfortable.

    It seems to me that the gift of organs after one has died is one of the greatest gifts that can be made. This legislation takes away from that sense of giftedness.

    I’m opposed on pastoral grounds too. For many relatives the idea that they can consent to the donation of healthy organs from someone who is at the point of death is a wonderful and powerful thing. If the decision is no longer theirs then something has gone which has mattered to many.

    If I needed an organ donation then I’ve no doubt I would long for anything that made more organs available. However, if I ask myself whether I would want to receive an organ from someone without knowing whether or not they wanted that procedure to happen I find myself having to think long and hard. Would I want an organ from someone who’s relatives were opposed to the organ removal? Organ donation can currently help people’s grieving processes. It now has the potential to complicate grief immesurably for some.

    People often don’t know what it will feel like when someone dies. The ability to make decisions at that time is crucial. Removing the possibility of decision making concerns me greatly. Some urgently want whatever good that can come from a death to come to pass. However others don’t want a body to be touched more th an is necessary either. I’ve no doubt that some will see this as a violation and the way that they will cope with the death in those circumstances is entirely unknown to us but cannot be easy.

    We are not simply flesh that the state owns and from which it can harvest. Somehow I can’t get away from the idea that we are more than that and that our laws should recognise that.

    I’m not really aware of how the debate about this has gone in Wales. I’ve been paying attention to other moral discussions here recently. These are just my initial instictive reactions to news reports today.

    As I said at the outset, I don’t find that a comfortable position to come to or to articulate. However, uncomfortable decisions are precisely what life makes us make.

    What do you think?

9 responses to “Turning Up and Being Counted”

  1. Lesley-Ann craddock Avatar
    Lesley-Ann craddock

    Thank you Kelvin
    What a read, I really enjoyed it, all of it. You have touched on the 3 things that I too have been wrestling with.
    Liturgy , turning up to be counted, and being open and real with our peers and counterparts.
    Hmmm I wonder if those aspects of being church in this post pandemic implosion of society will somehow be a catalyst to become braver clergy and have proper discussions about what matters to Gods church in its own context. Can we be diverse and not divided, can we lock into our heritage and yet be able to change too. Can Branson pickle save us. X

  2. Christine McIntosh Avatar
    Christine McIntosh

    Great stuff, Kelvin!

  3. Robert MacDonald Avatar
    Robert MacDonald

    Good points well made. We find some church members, who organise a community lunch on a Wednesday, then regularly say ‘we won’t make it on Sunday’. Seems the wrong way round – attendance on a Sunday should come first.

  4. Peggy Brewer Avatar
    Peggy Brewer

    Reading this made my day and contributes to my celebration of the season! Thank you!

  5. Calum Wyllie Avatar
    Calum Wyllie

    Reading this, I feel like it could have been written about me. I couldn’t have been more deeply involved with my church (felt deeply rooted in the weekly liturgy, sat on the PCC, led on diversity and inclusion, set up online streaming for the first time during lockdown), yet I haven’t been back in two years. There is definitely an element of that link of continuity having been broken, and it’s up to me to make the effort to reforge it again. But the anger is also real, and hard to pin down. When somewhere no longer feels like home, when you feel excluded (even when that person was responsible for leading on inclusion!), how do you find the courage to return? When the link with spirituality feels more present in other places (even when I used to absolutely value liturgy, the Eucharist, the community), how do you find a way forward? Too much thinking, and not enough getting on and doing, perhaps…

  6. Meg Rosenfeld Avatar
    Meg Rosenfeld

    Wow–this article is not only thought-provoking, and, to someone who’s a church-goer, extremely easy to identify with, but also entertaining and therefore all the more memorable. As one whose parish church (in San Francisco’s notorious Haight Ashbury neighborhood) nowadays gets about 15 people in the congregation on a “good” day, I do often wonder whether we’re ever going to bounce back from this expletive-deleted pandemic. Personally, I have no choice: I am, on the aforementioned good day, 50% of the alto section, and on other days, 100% thereof. All you folks out there don’t know what you’re missing–except, of course, those of you who are watching on your home computers.

  7. Father Ron Smith Avatar

    Well said, Kelvin Perhaps we clergy don’t stress enough the fact that the Host at our worship is not the clergy, but the Incarnate Son of God; who empowers us to the extent that we are willing to be empowered for daily life and work. I still think of that lovely phrase “Turn towards HIM and be radiant”. What a thrill!

  8. Kennedy fraser Avatar
    Kennedy fraser

    Yes,I still wonder if we have counted all those spiritual communions

  9. John Davies Avatar
    John Davies

    My church (suburban, evangelical Anglican in Birmingham, UK) took a long time to really recover from the lockdown and subsequent fears, but seems to be close to its pre-shutdown numbers again. What my wife and I noticed was that for quite some time the congregation was largely made up of its elderly members – ie those who are not perhaps so nifty with the electronic gadgetry of our age and, also, those who most wanted company. Younger families took a lot longer to return, but are now coming out of the woodwork again.
    One interesting point is that my old church reported a big increase in deaf people watching their zoom or youtube services, because one of the congregation provided signage at the front. Their new found audience felt greatly enabled to join in when they may otherwise never have done so. Is this something worth thinking more about?

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