As the Assisted Dying bill seeks to minimise vulnerability, Marianne Rozario explores the beauty in being cared for and caring for others. 22/11/2024
Being physically vulnerable is not a subject we often want to talk about. It is not comfortable because today’s society teaches us to aim for physical independence, the ability to look after and care for oneself. You don’t want to be, they say, a “burden” on others.
But what if vulnerability is not a flaw to be overcome, but a display of love?
We enter the world vulnerable: a baby in need of support, cared primarily by our parents and those closest to us. And in most cases – as most people die a natural death – we leave this world vulnerable, cared for by those who love us, assisted by medical and social support.
Whilst we must acknowledge that sometimes the “burden” can feel too heavy and vulnerability inadvertently nearly crushes the other, what happens to a society when that vulnerability is denied? Assisted suicide denies our vulnerability, and denies us of a chance to receive and give love.
The current assisted suicide bill being debated in the UK Parliament may appear to have tight regulations, but nonetheless the logic behind assisted suicide is that vulnerability should be avoided. For it proposes that before we are dependent on others for care, we should have the right to choose to end our life. The problem is that, in doing so, we are retreating from a key moment in which, naturally, we feel the practical loving care of others. Being in a state unable to care for oneself, reliant on others for the most basic actions like washing or feeding, should not be viewed as being a “burden” on society, but rather as allowing oneself to be cared for. It is in being vulnerable, we receive love.
At the same time, assisted suicide robs loved ones the time and space to care for relatives that once cared for them. We are denying the time others get to care for us; to love us. Anyone who has nursed a dying person knows that, whilst it may be extremely difficult, it is one of the most beautiful and profound moments of life. Like the prayer by Saint Francis of Assisi goes, “for it is in giving that we receive”; it is in caring for the vulnerable, that we receive.
Those two touchpoints – being in a state of physical vulnerability allowing yourself to be cared for, and being a carer looking after someone who is at their most vulnerable – are when we are closest to knowing love; to touching the face of God, for God is love. This form of love, as agape, is characterised as self–giving, unconditional care for others, and willingness to sacrifice.
Christianity has something powerful to say about vulnerability. From His birth in a humble manger to His crucifixion on a cross, Jesus showed His willingness to be weak, dependent, and vulnerable in the face of human suffering and imperfection. In an ultimate act of vulnerability, Jesus surrendered himself completely, even to death, for the salvation of humanity. In this sense, Christians embrace vulnerability, especially in times of suffering or sacrifice, as imitating Christ’s redemptive love.
Moreover, vulnerability is an essential part of Christian community and the call to love one another. Christian thought teaches that, as members of the Body of Christ, it is necessary to bear one another’s burdens, following the commandment of Jesus to love one another.
Christian understandings of vulnerability challenge us to embrace our own weakness, trust in God’s grace, and offer support to those in need. Vulnerability is, therefore, not a sign of defeat but an invitation to experience deeper intimacy with God and with others.
A society that denies vulnerability – and actively directs us away from it – is a society that has forgotten what it means to be loved and to love.
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