This week the Isle of Man’s lower house voted through the third reading of their Assisted Dying Bill. The bill, at its core, says that ‘a person who is terminally ill may request and lawfully be provided with assistance to end their own life.’ And this week, Lord Falconer is also introducing a similar bill into The House of Lords.
Some may wonder, ‘What’s wrong with that?’. I might not personally want assisted suicide, but why shouldn’t others have the option? Who am I to deny them? Autonomy is a key value in healthcare, after all. And in a liberal democracy, shouldn’t people be allowed to make their own decisions?
I am firmly opposed to the legalisation of assisted suicide for several reasons, but in a week where our laws are threatening to shift, I want to share how two Bible stories have helped me gain clarity on my uneasiness about autonomy being the overriding principle in this discussion.
autonomy is built on Christian principles
Respect for autonomy is a deeply Christian value. You and I are the same – both image bearers. It’s right that, apart from some good limits, you and I are allowed the space to live life as we decide without either of us overruling the other’s choices. No one human being is, by nature, more valuable than another.
respect for autonomy is not a trump card
Respect for autonomy is a good thing but it isn’t an ultimate thing. There are times when one person asks something of another, and the good and loving response is to say no. A big difficulty with setting autonomy at the very top of the discussion about assisted suicide, is that it obscures the fact that this is a discussion about how we relate to others – about how we live as good neighbours in a world where we are already deeply interconnected by design.
interconnected by design
We enter the world as connected people. A baby’s first social smile reminds us that we are hardwired to relate to others. Designed to love and serve others and to receive love and service from others. The early chapters of Genesis show that this need for one another is part of God’s design and is very good. Before sin had marred or corrupted God’s design in any way, God knew that, ‘It is not good for the man to be alone’. (Genesis 2:18) And so, of course, God provided first Eve and then through her, many other human beings. We are social by design and so part of God’s provision for us is to provide us with others. To be human is to be both needy and needed.
two Bible stories
God’s interconnected design for human beings is very good. And it was exactly the inversion of this goodness that made Cain’s murder of his brother Abel so shocking just a few chapters on in the Genesis narrative. That’s the first story I want to reflect on, and in particular, the moment when God asked Cain where Abel was, and he famously, with tragic irony, replied, ’Am I my brother’s keeper?’. (Genesis 4:9)
The tragic irony is that Cain ought to have been his brother’s keeper. Like him, his brother was precious – made in the image of God. He ought to have loved and served his brother, just as his brother ought to have loved and served him. That is the interconnected good life. But since Cain, we continue to push against our design and echo his distorted cry – ‘Am I my neighbour’s keeper?’. Our sin pushes us away from loving and caring for one another as we ought.
Press ahead in the Bible’s narrative, and I am reminded of a second story. I am reminded of the parable Jesus told in Luke 10 to show afresh what the good life looks like. A religious leader came to Jesus, and he knew God’s teaching – he knew that the good life that pleases God is found in loving God and loving our neighbour. But what does ‘neighbour’ love look like? How far does it extend? Jesus told the parable of The Good Samaritan to demonstrate it, and Jesus himself lived the exemplary life of neighbour-loving that The Good Samaritan story shows us.
The Good Samaritan, motivated by compassion, stopped to enter the world of the wounded traveller. Jesus, motivated by compassion, came down to enter our world of sin and pain. The Good Samaritan poured out oil and wine and paid money to the inn keeper to bring healing for the traveller. Jesus poured out his own blood paying a price higher than any other to bring healing for the sin of his people.
Jesus refused to speak Cain’s words. While we all too often ask, ‘am I my neighbour’s keeper?’ Jesus became our Good Samaritan, who did all that was needed to be our perfect keeper.
And having shown what loving our neighbour looks like, Jesus ends his parable with a call to us to ‘go and do likewise’. (Luke 10:37) And friends, loving my neighbour doesn’t always mean agreeing with them. If someone can no longer see the value in their own life, then my respect for them as a fellow image bearer (the same respect that means their autonomy is an important thing) means I cannot agree. I cannot nod to a lie that devalues them and turn away as if I’m not their keeper. I must rather reflect to them the truth of their value as I deny them assistance in committing suicide but offer to follow my Good Samaritan in offering them care that costs me while they live. That is the interconnected good life.
I want our laws to uphold that.
Susan Marriott is CMF’s new Head of Public Policy