Article

Comment

Community

Time

17 January 2025

3 min read

What’s the point of celebrating an anniversary?

How Liverpool Cathedral galvanised the heart of a community.

Stuart Haynes

Stuart is communications director for the Diocese of Liverpool.

Two cans of beer depict a drawing of a cathedral.

Raise a toast!

Liverpool Cathedral

2024 was a momentous year for Liverpool Cathedral as we celebrate our centenary. To be honest we also had some celebrations in 2004 and could look at something for nearly every year up until 2078 if we put our mind to it. Is this seemingly random selection of a date merely a marketing trick. What is the point of marking or celebrating an anniversary?

We are all used to anniversaries. At the very least every person has the anniversary of their birth to mark. Added to that we have weddings, work anniversaries and numerous other opportunities to mark past achievements. For many it can get tiresome seeing another anniversary being paraded through the media.

For Liverpool Cathedral choosing to mark the centenary of our consecration in 1924 was significant. The centenary provided a galvanising factor for the cathedral community. It provided the impetus for us to try to secure our building through a number of improvement projects and our financial position by a massive fundraising initiative.

We also, inevitably, planned a year of celebration worthy of a centenary bringing world class artist Anish Kapoor to exhibit, hosting a series focusing on our architect Sir Giles Gilbert Scott and culminating in being one of the Royal Mail’s Christmas stamps. A first-class stamp for a first-class cathedral.

Central to our celebrations was our Peoples Service in July which marked the anniversary of the cathedral’s consecration. This reached to the heart of why we did this and why our anniversary celebrations were so important.

Celebrating our centenary pointed to the spiritual heart and essence of us as a cathedral. We believe we were built by the people for the people and our purpose is to serve. Our history mirrors the history of Liverpool in the twentieth century, sharing joys and angsts, triumphs and tragedies. So many who visit us have a personal connection to the cathedral, a story to tell that binds them into our story. To be true to this our celebrations brought these before the God we believe in to celebrate and link these together as a reminder of the values and purpose which drive us on a daily basis.

We also brought together people to celebrate and thank them for the role they play. For it is the people that make and drive our cathedral. Our volunteers, staff, congregations, visitors all bring the human element that bring true life and joy to the cathedral. The different ways in which they engage with the buildings beautiful, majestic architecture and use its great space fulfil the historic purpose that those who envisioned, created and built this place had.

By rooting ourselves in our history and our traditional values we are reminded of our duty to future generations. Celebrating our centenary brought home the faithful dedication of the many whose vision brought this magnificent building into being. Knowing that, we treat what could otherwise become familiar with more respect and awe. As a consequence, we are inspired to ensure that the cathedral remains an integral part of people’s story in the future.

By offering this to the God we believe in we are reminded that those who brought Liverpool Cathedral into existence did it to honour and worship that God. Liverpool Cathedral, like all cathedrals and churches, is meant to stand as a representation of Christ’s presence in our communities. A place of timeless reliability. The edifice of Liverpool Cathedral standing proud on the cityscape offers comfort to the city’s people even those who haven’t yet been through our doors. Celebrating that fact gives both a sense that we still remain a vibrant place, offering a range of activities and events gives a reason for people to take that first step across our threshold.

It could easily be argued that you don’t need an anniversary to do that but moments help. In a marriage we celebrate the ruby, pearl, silver golden anniversaries but not so much on year 17. Having an excuse to do something, to be focussed, link our past to our future and above all to celebrate the people who inspire us on the way.

2024 was a great anniversary for Liverpool Cathedral. Here’s to the next.

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Column

Assisted dying

Care

Comment

14 November 2024

4 min read

Proposed euthanasia safeguards insult our NHS

We must defend a collective sense of care and generosity.

George Pitcher

George is a visiting fellow at the London School of Economics and an Anglican priest.

A gable end mural depicts a nurse in scrubs and a mask turning and looking towards the viewer.

A mural of an NHS nurse during COVID, Manchester.

Mural Republic

It was, I believe, the late political satirist Simon Hoggart who coined the Law of the Ridiculous Reverse, which held that, if the opposite of a statement is plainly absurd, then it was not worth making in the first place.

This law comes to mind when Labour MP Kim Leadbeater promises that her Assisted Dying Bill will have the “strictest safeguards in the world”, one of which is that those patients who have ordered their fatal dose “would be allowed to change their mind at any time.”

Where, exactly, has it ever been suggested that an individual, having asked for an assisted death, would not be allowed to change their mind? I’m just wondering which legislator or medical professional has proposed that once a lethal draught has been prescribed then there is no turning back.

I’m struggling to picture the circumstance in which a terminally ill patient is pinned down and killed, the last words that they hear being: “I’m sorry Mrs Simpkins, but everyone’s gone to a lot of trouble. You asked for it and you’re jolly well going to get it.”

This is important because, apparently, being able to change your mind about asking for help to kill yourself is one of the strictest safeguards in the world. I hope Ms Leadbeater will forgive me for pointing out that this doesn’t really stack up.

And what’s serious about it is that it’s also a massive straw man argument. The clear and rather devious implication is that one of the arguments being made against the introduction of an assisted suicide law is that patients won’t be able to change their minds about it, which I think we can all accept simply isn’t a fact at all. It’s absurd – a Ridiculous Reverse.

So I’ll defend the NHS with a religious fervour. To my mind, healthcare is a holy mission. We meddle in law with the Hippocratic Oath at our very deep peril.

It’s also hugely contemptuous of the medical profession in general and rude to the NHS in particular. That’s because there’s a snide impression behind Leadbeater’s comment there may be hundreds of budding Harold Shipman out there, but her powerful safeguards are going to protect us from them.

We’re in danger of becoming inured to this kind of insult from politicians directed at the NHS. And it’s worth exploring why they might think we need to be protected from unscrupulous doctors and nurses. In this case, one possible reason is that the NHS isn’t being particularly helpful in giving the euthanasia enthusiasts what they want.

Doctors and their staff have plenty of ethical objections to assisted suicide. But leave those aside for a moment. At the practical level, the NHS has made it clear that it doesn’t have the infrastructure to operate a policy of assisted deaths safely. And it can’t afford to set one up. So a government that introduces assisted suicide is going to have to organise and regulate its own assisted death agency.

“Oh,” the assisted dying lobbyists seem to exclaim, “we’d presumed you’d do as you’re told.” Just hand out the hemlock. Take your instructions from the legislature.

But the NHS is better than that. And it’s that kind of high principle that so infuriates feckless politicians. It was the late Nigel Lawson who said, somewhat ruefully, that the NHS “is the closest thing the English have to a religion”. The right wing of politics regularly tells us it’s time to renounce that religion.

To worship the NHS as a religion would, literally, be idolatrous. But it’s not so to acknowledge its religious qualities. Just look at the word – the Latin religio means something like “good faith”, the essence of who we are, what makes us good.

The NHS, in its post-war incarnation, has been central to who we are as a people and what defines us. It’s something to do with our collective sense of care and generosity to one another. Its members, like our national Church, make up a single body.

This is not to co-opt the NHS as the medical wing of the Church. It’s no part of the NHS’s brief to proselytize – rather the reverse; Christian medical staff have been in deep disciplinary trouble for evangelising. It is a profoundly secular organisation.

So the NHS emphatically isn’t in the business of propagating the gospel. But that’s not to say that we can’t be in the same business. Many priests have stories of their most affirming work being in the company of people of other faiths or of none.

The NHS’s proud heritage is to offer treatment free to anyone at the point of access. Put another way, it will seek to heal anyone who comes to it. I make no apology for saying that sounds familiar.

So I’ll defend the NHS with a religious fervour. To my mind, healthcare is a holy mission. We meddle in law with the Hippocratic Oath at our very deep peril.

And when NHS professionals tell us where we can stick our assisted suicides, I respectfully suggest we give it our solemn attention, rather than patronisingly offering a Law of the Ridiculous Reverse.