Plan 75 .. a few thoughts on Euthanasia

 

There was a TV series years ago called Logan’s Run set in a dystopian society where the people lived until 30 and then had to ‘make room’ for the next generation and were forcibly Euthanized:- of course in those days Euthanasia, Doctor assisted dying or assisted suicide were still quite unthinkable; preposterous. 

There was an interview recently given by a Canadian doctor who had herself dispatched 300 people so far under the Doctor assisted dying program in Canada, which has the most liberal laws in the world with respect to Euthanasia. No serial killer or mass murderer can get near such a tally without being apprehended. But she found her work to be quite satisfying- the state bestowing its compassion on the vulnerable sectors of the population. 

Others in Canada, particularly the old, disabled and infirm are finding the policies lacking. One chap, who was a veteran and in need of a ramp to leave his house in his wheelchair was offered Euthanasia as an alternative. Others too who had run up large medical bills or were taking up bed-space in hospitals are also frequently nudged in that direction. So a combination of withholding the assistance needed for a good quality of life or the pressure to not become a financial burden has sent many to an early grave under the veil of ‘state compassion’. 

Last year there was a movie by a Japanese film-maker that really nailed the subject as he took a peek into the near ‘possible’ future. It was called ‘Plan 75’ – a government initiative to deal with the problem of an ageing population and low birth rate. In it the elderly, who were often neglected and struggling to survive, often alone, were offered a euthanasia package (by good looking, youthful sales reps and call center agents) whereby they can receive a government grant of $1000 to spend as they wish (could be for a party or inheritance to their descendants) in exchange for being euthanized. A further benefit could be obtained – a free cremation and burial if they agreed to a mass cremation/burial as it was more efficient. This may sound familiar as was the method of their death, by being gassed. 

Often as people age or are afflicted with illness or disability their external identity diminishes. This is due to loss of jobs, finances, or apparent usefulness. Their roles shrink as their families grow-up and leave and they retire, perhaps alone when spouses die. And a God-less society is not capable of seeing true worth or dignity anymore. But the reality is so far from this as we know as believers. Because despite the losses we take in life, despite deterioration of body and mind we are and will always be children of God, sons and daughters, co-heirs of the kingdom of God, We have immortal souls with a dignity far greater than we can possibly imagine; destined to an eternity of joy and bliss should we choose it. Our old age is often a time of the greatest growth as human beings, and our sufferings are that final purification to ready us to meet a Holy God. 

We are not garbage to be thrown out, nor meat to be butchered. To truly die with dignity is to do so in the manner and time that God provides for, regardless of how it looks to anyone else.

The works of men

An old man was sitting in his cell and a voice came to him which said, "Come, and I will show you the works of men." He got up and followed. The voice led him to a certain place and shewed him an Ethiopian cutting wood and making a great pile. He struggled to carry it but in vain. But instead of taking some off, he cut more wood which he added to the pile. He did this for a long time. 

Going on a little further, the old man was shown a man standing on the shore of a lake drawing up water and pouring it into a broken receptacle, so that the water ran back into the lake. 

Then the voice said to the old man, "Come, and I will shew you something else." He saw a temple and two men on horseback, opposite one another, carrying a piece of wood crosswise. They wanted to go in through the door but would not because they held their piece of wood crosswise. Neither of them would draw back before the other, so as to carry the wood straight; so they remained outside the door. 

The voice said to the old man, "These men carry the yoke of righteousness with pride, and do not humble themselves so as to correct themselves and walk in the humble way of Christ. So they remain outside the Kingdom of God. The man cutting the wood is he who lives in many sins and instead of repenting he adds more faults to his sins. He who draws the water is he who does good deeds, but mixing bad ones with them, he spoils even his good works. So everyone must be watchful of his actions, lest he labour in vain." 

Someone asked Abba Agathon, 'Which is better, bodily asceticism or interior vigilance?' The old man replied, 'Man is like a tree, bodily asceticism is the foliage, interior vigilance the fruit. According to that which is written, "Every tree that bringeth not forth good fruit shall be cut down and cast into the fire" (Matt. 3.10) it is clear that all our care should be directed towards the fruit, that is to say, guard of the spirit; but it needs the protection and the embellishment of the foliage, which is bodily asceticism

Where are all the men ?

Recently I visited a church while the Stations of the Cross was under way and, I observed that there was quite an imbalance in the ratio of women to men, about 7:1 in fact. I began noticing this imbalance (a quick head count) at other times too; the closest call was in a prayer meeting I attend where it was 3:1 in favour of the ladies.

In another town, at a funeral, it seemed that most of the men were outside in the car park having a smoke and chewing the fat while their wives were inside.

I wonder what the reason is; some say that women are more spiritual than men, that we are more earthy, others that the church has been ‘feminised’ over the centuries and men find little to identify with anymore.

I don’t think that the first reason carries much weight, as in Jesus’s day men flocked to him, every hillside and valley were packed with men listening for hours or days on end. They even climbed trees and opened up roofs to get closer and have their needs met.

I don’t think men have changed, and Jesus hasn’t changed either so maybe we lost sight of who he is and our need for him. Maybe those who say that the lion of Judah has had his claws manicured, his teeth filled down and his mane given a blue rinse have a point.

What image comes to mind when we think of our Saviour ? Is he a wild, potent stallion galloping across a plain; or a compliant young gelding being led around an enclosure; do we think of him as being like Ghandi with a beard and a full head of hair or as someone who manufactures his own weapons and unleashes his fury on the temple shopkeepers; a man’s man with rough splintered hands who knew (however unlikely the candidate) who would win the football league last year ?

Or maybe what has men huddled in the car park or running at the fence is to do with the perception of what a Christian man ought to be. Is the objective to become a ‘good boy’ or even worse, a nice guy; or rather should we be extremely dangerous, fighters for justice and truth in the service of the most courageous of warriors and the noblest of Kings.

Holy Russia

In 1977, as a schoolboy, I had the opportunity to visit the Soviet Union. I had little appreciation of faith in those days but did attempt to attend Mass on Sunday. Arriving at the one church that was still open we met with the news, from a few grandmothers, that there would be no Mass as the priest was ill. Sixty years after the revolution the youngest priest must have been in his mid-eighties. The lights must have almost gone out on the church in Russia in those days.

And yet perhaps it was from amongst those grandmothers (orthodox and catholic) that the countries future return to faith lay. Both Mikhail Gorbachev and Vladimir Putin were secretly baptized as infants, a spirit lying dormant for many years as they grew up atheists & part of the communist party machine.

Now Putin seems to be the standard bearer for a new Russia that, astonishingly but correctly, pointed out how Godless America and the west had become whereas Russia upholds the traditional family and teaches the Christian faith in state schools, a freedom now curtailed in the USA. The high ground has shifted so perhaps it’s fitting that the Russians are the ones to lead in the fight against ISIS in Syria. 

At the beginning of the air strikes, on TV, I noticed a Russian MIG pilot entering his jet with an icon in his hand, showing an understanding of what alliance he and his comrades needed for this particular fight. 

Whilst Putin may never be the poster boy for tactful foreign policy, in this instance he is the only leader with the backbone to tackle ISIS which is certainly the world’s priority at present. 

Defining a just war in our days is difficult but perhaps defining the adversary leads to the conclusion. I searched for an apt description of ISIS on Wikipedia and these extracts look close:-‘no ability to feel pity, compassion, or remorse’... ‘soon came to view themselves as the supreme race and began a conquest of domination and extermination’. ..’having had every emotion removed except hate’

Actually the definitions above are found under the heading ‘Daleks’; same psychological profile and modus operandi as ISIS though.

Che Francisco

On the flight between Cuba and the USA one of the journalists asked Pope Francis if his politics were leaning to the left. Perhaps his heart for the poor and criticism of the ‘unfettered pursuit of money’ once referred to as the ‘dung of Satan’ may have contributed to this misunderstanding.

Cuba was an interesting backdrop for such an enquiry. Pope Francis’s fellow Argentinian, Che Guevara, who famously helped free Cuba from dictatorship and installed the current communist government, was also a man whose principal motivation was compassion for those who were being horribly oppressed and exploited. It is true that both hate the sins that the rich and powerful commit against the poor.

But then their paths separate. The communist ideology requires hatred of the sinner too in order to defeat him, and so turns in on itself and of necessity becomes worse than its adversary. (James 1:20’ because human anger does not produce the righteousness that God desires’) The Pope’s way of course is more hopeful of the change of heart of those who currently do evil and happy to leave the battle and timing in God’s hands whilst proclaiming the truth in love and candor.

Pope Francis seeks a revolution too, a change of heart, individually and collectively, a turning outward, first to God and then, as a product of that, to each other and especially those in need.

It’s interesting that the Cuban leader, Raul Castro, when he met the Pope prior to his visit to Cuba, said "I read all the speeches of the Pope, and if he continues this way, I will go back to praying and go back to the church, and I'm not joking," Love conquers all!

Talk on Service

John 13:34-35

³⁴ “A new command I give you: Love one another. As I have loved you, so you must love one another. ³⁵ By this everyone will know that you are my disciples, if you love one another.”

To begin to discuss service, I thought it might be useful to look at some giants of Christian service so as to see the pattern or model of their service; what do they teach us in the way they served ?

Mother Teresa said: “Not all of us can do great things. But we can do small things with great love.”

She also said “I am not sure exactly what Heaven will be like. But when we die and it comes the time for God to judge us, He will not ask, "How many good things have you done in your life?" Rather He will ask, "How much love did you put into what you did?"

When Mother Teresa began her work for the poor in Calcutta, she was alone. She left the comforts of her life as a teacher in a convent school and with only a change of clothes proceeded to the slums to live amongst the poor and suffering, one of the most wretched places on earth. Rejected by the local hospitals the sick destitute would just lie in the gutters waiting for death. Her first out-reach, was to an old woman who died in her arms as she brought her the love of God in her final moments. She accepted the unloved and uncared for and loved them, giving whatever she had at her disposal and by this means brought many to God.

Her service or self giving was driven, not by her own natural goodness, but by the grace of God. And the means of obtaining that is through prayer of the heart.

As she describes prayer :- “Prayer is not asking. Prayer is putting oneself in the hands of God, at His disposition, and listening to His voice in the depth of our hearts.”

In this manner the love of God flows into the human heart and fills it, only to reemerge in loving service of our neighbours.

A less recent example is St Serapion, one of the desert father’s of the 4^th century AD who retreated to the Egyptian desert to make intercession for the world and do battle for souls in prayer.

Like other desert monks, he led a life of extreme austerity. Though he traveled into several countries, he always lived in the same poverty, mortification, and recollection.

Once in a town in Greece, recognizing the spiritual blindness of an actor, he sold himself as a slave to the man for a small sum. (in those days if one was in debt it was a last resort to sell oneself into slavery to repay it and thus live the rest of one’s life as a slave). His only sustenance in this servitude was bread and water. He accomplished every duty belonging to his station with the utmost diligence and fidelity, joining with his labor prayer for the man and his family. In time his example and holiness of life made a deep impression on his pagan master and the whole family was converted to Christianity. His master wanted to give him his freedom out of gratitude for bringing the family to salvation but he would not hear of it but simply returned the original sum he had sold himself for, buying back his own freedom, and went off and sold himself again and again for the rest of his life, to various people but always with the same end in mind to bring them to God no matter what the personal cost.

A seemingly bizarre ministry of service to our modern way of thinking but when we examine it, we can see just how much the love of God moved St Serapion, his compassion for the spiritually impoverished was so great that the measure of his service or sacrifice was without limit. And that’s another component of Christian service, it is sacrificial, love leads to service and service is sacrificial.

If we look at the source of this love which led to the extraordinary service of mother Teresa, and St Serapion which is of course their savior Jesus Christ.

As He says in (Mat 20 26-28) …, whoever wants to become great among you must be your servant, and whoever wants to be first must be your slave—just as the Son of Man did not come to be served, but to serve, and to give his life as a ransom for many.” 

There are many episodes in His earthly ministry which define service; but in keeping with those mentioned above I would refer to the story of Zacchaeus.

 
(Lk 19  1-10)

 Jesus entered Jericho and was passing through. ² A man was there by the name of Zacchaeus; he was a chief tax collector and was wealthy. ³ He wanted to see who Jesus was, but because he was short he could not see over the crowd. ⁴ So he ran ahead and climbed a sycamore-fig tree to see him, since Jesus was coming that way.

⁵ When Jesus reached the spot, he looked up and said to him, “Zacchaeus, come down immediately. I must stay at your house today.” ⁶ So he came down at once and welcomed him gladly.

⁷ All the people saw this and began to mutter, “He has gone to be the guest of a sinner.”

⁸ But Zacchaeus stood up and said to the Lord, “Look, Lord! Here and now I give half of my possessions to the poor, and if I have cheated anybody out of anything, I will pay back four times the amount.”

⁹ Jesus said to him, “Today salvation has come to this house, because this man, too, is a son of Abraham. ¹⁰ For the Son of Man came to seek and to save the lost.”

I noticed that as with mother Teresa and St Serapion, the first thing Jesus did was something no one else did for Zaccheaus… he accepted him, and spoke to him. As the chief tax collector for the Romans he would have been hated by the people as a traitor to his country and also for being corrupt and living off the backs of his own people. But Jesus not only spoke to him and befriended him in spite of knowing all his wrong doings but stopped his journey and gave him his time. He knew the heart of the man, knew that in spite of his previous crimes that he was ready for change. And in that very moment he did change, promising to give half his wealth immediately to the poor (previously he had probably made a lot of people poor and cared nothing for them) and then going further he was willing to pay back all he had cheated or stolen as well. An outward expression of internal repentance, and a knowledge that Jesus had forgiven him and set him free, with the gift of salvation. He was free to become the man God always wanted him to be, a good man, a generous man, filed with Joy. Jesus had unlocked his heart with the key of kindness.

His whole life, he had, unknowingly, been moving towards this moment of encountering Jesus, a divine appointment. All the while he was plundering and grabbing as much money and power as he could to ‘save himself’ and now suddenly he gave it away, he acquired a true appreciation of its value as compared with the far greater treasure he had just discovered in Jesus. Now the only purpose for his wealth could be to bless others, the ones he had previously hurt. A true repentance. Interestingly the name Zaccheaus means ‘pure and righteous one’. Perhaps in due course he began to live up to his name.

I’ll give one last example of a somewhat lesser stature now, if I may, which highlights another aspect of service, particularly within a larger group or organization. I am referring to our ‘motive’ for serving or purity of intention.

More than 20 years ago, myself and a few friends started a small charity in the UK to help refugees in Bosnia during the war. We took aid convoys over from England, drove across Europe to the suffering people. The food was all donated by church congregations and individuals in Manchester, some vehicles were donated too, even a few ambulances which we later left behind at hospitals. Later large truck loads or containers were sent too in partnership with other groups around the country.

It was a massive undertaking, became much bigger than any of us could imagine and the group is still operating today in a small way in fundraising for various projects in different countries.

There were many volunteers over the years, hundreds, maybe thousands of givers and participants in one way or another rendering wonderful service although it must be said that there were also a variety of ‘motives’.

People are seldom single minded and generally our motives or intentions are at best mixed. Whilst everyone had a measure of love and compassion for the refugees some had other reasons too, some came forward who originated in the region and had a sense of patriotism for their countrymen, others a desire to be part of something – part of the group or community, others may have sought to be seen to be doing some good deed, perhaps for some even an element of self upliftment or the prospect of glory; danger and adventure may have motivated some. Other motives can include gratitude to God for all He has given and a desire to thank Him by giving a little back, for others even guilt can be a driving force too.

A mixed bag of intentions and motives. But the wonderful thing about giving one’s service; particularly in the beginning, is that service changes the person and ultimately the service given purifies the motive or intention. Where there was a little love, it becomes magnified and other lesser reasons or motives melt away over time.

Many of our team experienced this after our first visit to Bosnia, we arrived in one camp (an old school building) where the day before 400 people arrived who had fled the fighting, having just lost their homes, livelihoods and often family members. They were given 1 hour by the invading soldiers to pack and leave their town or burn with it. They had nothing to eat, and no visible hope or future before them. And there were many such incidents that brought home to us their dilemma much more than the pictures on TV that had inspired us to go in the first place. It became more personal, even though we would never meet them again.

On returning to England the zeal for the work was far greater than before. Our team became more single minded, focused and hard working. The service transformed or purified the intention or motive.

Some service becomes high profile like Mother Teresa’s, others are hidden from view entirely like St Serapion. Sometimes the service rendered is great, a special skill perhaps that no one else has or a lot of time commitment and at other times it may be very simple service or very quickly accomplished.

The medical missions conducted by this team are of great value to those served by them and a joy to those involved. On the one I was privileged to be a part of  I could see the joy and gratitude of the people for all that was given to them and I am sure there will be a lasting effect above and beyond the medical treatments, because your love and care for them was also communicated, however poor they may be , however difficult their lot in life is, there is the knowledge that they are not forgotten or alone, that they are loved, respected and cared for.

I know too that the Lord appreciates all the service rendered to his children on His behalf and in His name and it will be a means of our sanctification, a step on the road to holiness which we all must travel together.

As a final quote, (also one of Mother Teresa’s )

“There is a thing you can do but I can not and there is thing I can but you can not; so let us - together - make something beautiful for God.”

Is hell real ? .. a story from the gates...

 

1. Is Hell Real...a story from the gates of Hell
   
   I gave my heart to the Lord April 22, 1933 at 7:40 p.m. in Texas. Earlier that evening, my heart had stopped beating and the spiritual man who lives in my body had departed. When death seized my body, my grandmother, my younger brother, and my mother were sitting in the room. I had time only to tell them "goodbye." Then the inner man rushed out of my body and left my body lying dead, with eyes set and flesh cold. I went down, down, down until the lights of the earth faded away. I don't mean I was unconscious - I have proof that I was actually dead.
   
   My eyes were set, my heart had stopped beating, and my pulse had ceased. The Scriptures tell us about the lost being cast into outer darkness where there is weeping and gnashing of teeth (Matt. 25:30). The farther down I went, the blacker it became, until it was all blackness - I could not have seen my hand if it had been one inch in front of my eyes. And the farther down I went, the hotter and more stiffling it became.
   
   Finally, far below me, I could see lights flickering on the walls of the caverns of the damned. The lights were caused by the fires of Hell. The giant, white-crested orb of flame pulled me, drawing me as a magnet draws metal to itself. I did not want to go, but just as metal jumps to the magnet, my spirit was drawn to that place. I could not take my eyes off of it. The heat beat me in the face. Many years have gone by, yet I can see it just as clearly today as I saw it then. It is as fresh in my memory as if it just happened.
   
   I came to the entrance of Hell. People ask, "What does the entrance of Hell look like?" I cannot describe it, because if I tried, I would have to have something with which to compare it. Coming to the entrance, I paused momentarily, because I did not want to go in. I sensed that one more foot, one more step, one more yard, and I would be gone forever and would not come out of that horrible place! Upon reaching the bottom of the pit, I became conscious of some kind of spirit being by my side. I had not looked at him, because I could not take my gaze off of the fires of Hell. But when I paused, the creature laid his hand on my arm to escort me in. At that same moment, a voice spoke from far above the blackness, above the earth, and above the heavens. I don't know if it was the voice of God. I did not see him, and I do not know what he said, because he did not speak in English; he spoke in some other tongue. When he spoke, his words reverberated throughout the region of the damned, shaking it like a leaf in the wind, and causing the creature to take his hand off my arm. I did not turn around, but an unseen power, like suction, pulled me up, away from the fire, away from the heat, and back into the shadows of the absorbing darkness.
   
   I began to ascend until I came to the top of the pit and saw the lights of the earth. I saw my grandparents' home, went through the wall back into my bedroom, and it was just as real to me as it was any time I had entered through the door . I slipped back into my body as easily as a man slips into his trousers in the morning. It was the same way in which I had gone out - through my mouth. I began to talk to my grandmother. She said, "Son, I thought you were dead."
   
   "Granny," I said, "I am going again. I am dying. Where is Momma?" "Your mother is out on the porch," she replied. And about that time I heard my mother praying at the top of her voice as she walked up and down the porch. "Where is my brother?" I asked. "He ran next door to call the doctor," Granny answered. If you're not ready to go, you want somebody with you. You're afraid! I said, "Granny, don't leave me! Don't leave me! I'm afraid I'll go while you're gone! I want somebody with me! Don't leave me!" So she gathered me into her arms again. I said, "Tell Momma I said goodbye. Tell Momma I love her. Tell Momma I appreciate everything she has ever done for me and for all of us. And you tell Momma that I said if I've ever put a wrinkle in her face, or a grey hair in her head, I'm sorry, and I ask her to forgive me." I felt myself slipping. I said, "Granny, I'm going again. You were a second mother to me when Momma's health failed. I appreciate you. Now I'm going, and I won't be back this time.
   
   "I knew I was dying, unprepared to meet God. I kissed her on the cheek and said goodbye. My heart stopped beating for the second time. I leaped out of my body and began to descend: down, down, down. I began to descend again into the darkness Down below, the same experience occurred. The voice spoke from Heaven and again my spirit came up out of that place - back into my room and back into my body. The only difference this time was that I came up at the foot of the bed. I began to talk to Granny again. I said, "I will not be back this time, Granny." I asked, "Where is Grandpa? I want to tell Grandpa goodbye." I've never known what it means to have a daddy. He's been the nearest to a daddy I've known. Tell him I appreciate him. Tell him I love him. Tell Grandpa that I said goodbye." Then I left a word for my sister and two brothers, and my heart stopped for the third time and I leaped out of my body and began to descend.
   
   Until this time, I had thought, this is not happening to me. This is just a hallucination. It can't be real! But now I thought, this is the third time. I won't come back this time! Darkness encompassed me , darker than any night man has ever seen. I wish I had adequate words to describe the horrors of Hell. People go through this life so complacently, so unconcerned, as if they will not have to face Hell. But God's Word and my own personal experience tell me differently. I know what it is to be unconscious - it is black when you are unconscious - but there is no blackness to compare with outer darkness. As I began to descend in the darkness this third time, my spirit cried out, "God, I belong to the church! I've been baptized !" I waited for Him to answer, but no answer came - only the echo of my own voice as it came back to mock me. It will take more than church membership - it will take more than being baptized in water - to miss Hell and make Heaven.
   
   The second time I cried a little louder, "God! I belong to the church! I've been baptized in water!" Again I waited for an answer, but there was no answer. I came again to the bottom of that pit. Again I could feel the heat as it beat me in the face. Again I approached the entrance, the gates into Hell itself. That creature took me by the arm. Thank God that voice spoke. I don't know who it was - I didn't see anybody - I just heard the voice. I don't know what he said, but whatever he said, that place shook; it just trembled. And that creature took his hand off my arm. It was just as if there was a suction to my back parts. It pulled me back, away from the entrance to Hell. I began to pray �.. (he recovered and became a preacher..)

The Anvil

True Leadership

I had the great privilege last year of attending a lecture by Lech Walesa in one of the Universities in Manila. An electrician who became a union leader; a union leader who became a prisoner; a prisoner who brought down an evil empire and became President of Poland.

Usually, here in the Philippines, the presidents become prisoners only after their term of office when their dodgy dealings are uncovered, so it was a breath of fresh air to hear from a man who understands authentic leadership and what it costs. Its essence being service; sacrifice; suffering and faith in God. The very things that none of the listening students could possibly learn in their courses or with their background as the country’s elite.

We heard about those turbulent times in Poland firsthand, how when the trade union Solidarity only had a handful of members, the new Pope John Paul II visited and overnight it had a million new members, the strikes, imprisonment, struggles and eventual victory and the aftermath and rebuilding of a nation. His leadership was earned, tested; proven.

What is also unusual in a world leader is his humility and simplicity, he gives all credit to God for the miracle of their liberation from communism, through the hand of his friend the late Pope. His many awards and honouree degrees he drops off at the shrine of Our Lady in Czestochowa acknowledging her part too. 
.

Now grey haired he travels the world as a mentor to many with a deadly sense of humour (the translator took a full minute to compose himself before he could deliver some of his jokes).

On meeting him I felt like I was on holy ground, a true man of faith, an authentic revolutionary leader on the one hand and a benevolent Grandfather on the other. An inspiration to us all.