If the current “End of Life Bill” makes it through the House of Lords, then an adult who is expected to die from illness within six months will be able to request and lawfully be provided with assistance to take their own life.
Chief Rabbi Mirvis has eloquently opposed the Bill, explaining that it would “impose a new and immeasurable pressure upon terminal patients, who are already extremely vulnerable”.
When a similar bill was proposed and in 2006, Chief Rabbi Sacks also contested it: “Life is sacred. It is God’s gift not ours.” A few weeks ago, at a Limmud session I gave about assisted dying, many doctors and lawyers spoke of their serious concerns with the bill.
Wishing to end one’s life due to unbearable pain and no chance of recovery is understandable, and the desire to assist someone in this situation is genuinely compassionate. But I believe it is still wrong.
In Jewish law, active euthanasia is prohibited. However, pain relief and withdrawal of factors that artificially delay death are allowed. Suffering must always be minimised, but not to directly hasten dying.
In Australia, Canada, parts the USA and in nine European countries, assisted dying has already been legalised in various forms. Why is this mainly happening in liberal democracies? The answer exposes a very worrying societal trend: personal choice and control take precedence over everything.
A recent article in The Atlantic, alarmingly titled “Canada is killing itself”, explained how euthanasia is now a common lifestyle choice there, with doctors struggling to keep up with demand. Entitlement has become paramount.
In contrast, like all faiths, Judaism believes that life has a deep purpose. The gift of existence calls us to live responsibly. Personal autonomy does not just mean we can do whatever we like, it means taking the responsibility to discover our own way of living well.
Every moment is an opportunity: to learn something new, to help those less fortunate, to have meaningful experiences, to build loving relationships with family and friends, and to contribute to a better society.
There is a story of a great rabbi on his deathbed. His students asked him why he looked troubled, reassuring him that his virtuous life meant he was surely bound for the World to Come. He responded, “In this world, with just a few of coins, I can do a mitzvah and help someone, but where I’m going, I can’t do a thing.”
Possibly the oldest recorded instance of assisted dying and suicide occurred when King Saul, terrified by an overwhelming Philistine force that had just killed his three sons, asked his arms-bearer to end him quicky to avoid torture.
When the man refused out of reverence, the king fell on his own sword. In anguish the arms-bearer then did the same (1 Samuel 31:2-5). This sad story highlights the intense emotion involved in tragic life-ending situations. Saul was afraid, his assistant even more so. They had lost all hope.
A more instructive narrative appears in the Torah. After facing too many difficult challenges leading the Israelites, Moses finally gave up and said to God, “I can’t bear all this people alone, it’s too much… and if this is what You make me do, just kill me now!” (Numbers 11:14-15).
Moses was so low, he would rather die than continue. But God heard his pain and responded by telling him to gather 70elders, whom for a brief period shared the divine spirit that rested upon him.
Based on the fact that these elders are never referred to again, Rabbi Sacks inferred that God arranged this just for Moses, to show him he was not alone, and that his life was not in vain. Rather than assisting in his death, God gave Moses good reason to live.
Even when death is near, even when in terrible pain, life still has purpose. In Kathryn Mannix’s book, With the End in Mind, she writes movingly of Eric, a former headeacher.
On his deathbed Eric told her: “I wanted euthanasia, and no one could do it. But if they had, then when would I have asked for it? Chances are I would have asked too soon… So I’m glad you couldn’t do it. I’ve changed my mind, and I wanted to tell you. I was angry with you because you’re part of the System that says no to assisting with dying. But you weren’t saying no to dying, you were saying yes to living. I get that now, I’m a teacher, and you need to tell other people this for me, because I won’t be here to tell them.”
Rather than focusing on assisted dying legislation, funding and resources should be channelled to support hospices and enhancing palliative care. Whole-person care for people with incurable diseases has improved enormously in the last decades, with specialists managing complex physical, emotional, social and spiritual needs.
It can feel undignified to be so reduced by terminal illness, but in this last stage of life dignity can be found in the choice of the person dying and of those around them to respond positively. To still say, lechayim, to life.
We need to talk more about dying because it will teach us how to live.
Rabbi Zarum is dean of the London School of Jewish Studies
Image: The Death of King Saul, who falls on his sword rather than be captured by the Philistines
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