The other night my wife turned to me, just as I was reading some particularly normal science fiction, and asked a question:

 

“What do you think about Alfie Evans?“

 

The question hit me pretty hard – I’d not actually thought about this particular case that much. I’d tried understanding the legal judgements and clinical observations around the case of this ill little boy – this person made in the Image of God. I’d vaguely been aware of who was saying what, of how it touches on so many different debates, and how the cause of his parents (Which I genuinely believe is just for their little boy to suffer less, and have a quality of life that means something [the latter of which, I would argue, as I will below, he already has] was being used by various people to further their various agendas.

In his personal blog, Pete Saunders of the Christian Medical Fellowship wrestles with some of the issues – the tension between care and control, the disagreement between parental responsibility and government intervention – in a way that encouraged me. I think Peter hit the medical/clinical/legal/factual nail on the head when he wrote:

“Alfie has incurable progressive brain damage which will eventually kill him. So, any treatment is only going to be supportive or palliative at best. However, it is not immediately apparent how long he might live either on, or off, a ventilator.

There is an important ethical difference between the active ending of life and the withdrawal of treatment. The former, I believe, is always wrong, whereas the latter is sometimes wrong and sometimes right depending on the clinical circumstances.

It is not always wrong to withdraw or withhold treatment. Sometimes, when death is imminent and inevitable and the burden of the treatment outweighs any benefit it gives, it can be good medicine.

There is a point when we say enough is enough. Similarly, we are not obliged to give every treatment to every patient just because those treatments exist. Doctors are making decisions to withhold or withdraw treatments of various kinds every day.”

There is an important ethical difference between the active ending of life and the withdrawal of treatment. The former, I believe, is always wrong, whereas the latter is sometimes wrong and sometimes right depending on the clinical circumstances.

It is not always wrong to withdraw or withhold treatment. Sometimes, when death is imminent and inevitable and the burden of the treatment outweighs any benefit it gives, it can be good medicine.

There is a point when we say enough is enough. Similarly, we are not obliged to give every treatment to every patient just because those treatments exist. Doctors are making decisions to withhold or withdraw treatments of various kinds every day.”

Writing for The Mirror (not a paper I often read, but that is another story), Sophie Evans challenges a number of received facts around the case, whilst also reminding us of the timeline of this little boy’s life. Can we reduce the life of any human to a series of dates and facts? Or is that something we can only do because of the world we live in, and the circumstances of this little boy’s birth? Surely, if we really care about truth, if we really care about justice, we can do better than putting a law student in one of this country’s highest courts?

The best comment, and one that has shaped my personal thinking on this difficult case, is a piece by my friend Peter Ould, Why it’s time for Team Alfie Evans to walk away from the battle lines. Here Peter, a complex and unique individual made in the Image of God, who lost a still-born baby, challenges thinkers from all sides. I think he hits on some of the key issues:

“In all of this the Evans case hasn’t been helped by what seems to be highly emotive actions in court by those representing Alfie. The legal team have come under criticism for their arguments and the vexatious nature of some of their presentations, and Alfie’s father, Tom Evans, talked of taking out a private prosecution against three doctors for “conspiracy to murder”.

“The law is reason free from passion” is what Aristotle (and Elle Woods of Legally Blonde) teaches us, but for some reason Alfie Evans parents have chosen to be represented by a legal team who some view as having a record of badly representing their cases both in and outside of court…

So what now? It would be wonderful if Alfie could die at home rather than in a clinical hospital environment, but the actions of the “rent-a-mob” outside the hospital (not all those at the vigil, but clearly a significant portion and enough to raise the concerns of the local police) and the lawyers in and out of the court have damaged the relationship with Alder Hey hospital. Perhaps it’s time for the lawyers to go home, the vigil to disperse, nothing to be said for 48 hours and then a plan made, just the parents, the hospital and perhaps a children’s hospice, to move Alfie home (or to the hospice) to live out his last few days.”

Reference to Legally Blonde aside, I think Peter has an important point. Regardless of the mistakes that have been made, what if we as a culture gave Alfie, his parents, and his doctors, 48 hours to just be? 48 hours to see how his breathing is going. 48 hours to pause, say nothing, and sorrowfully rejoice for the life of this little boy. This isn’t a funeral, and it certainly isn’t a eulogy – but Alfie’s plight demands that we do some serious thinking.

So, without further ado, here are some thoughts:

1.This is not ‘a case’. This is a terrible and awful example of political, cultural and personal interests intruding on the delicate matter of parents caring for their son. To reduce it to ‘a case’ in our minds is a sobering denial of Alfie’s humanity.

2.Alfie needs care – whatever that looks like – not noise and controversy. His parents should be by his bedside, not wheeled out literally or metaphorically to justify one position or another.  Guardian columnist Gaby Hinsliff wrote powerfully that Alfie Evans’ parents needed help. The vultures came instead. I think she is wright – and regardless of your position on any of the issues involved in this case, the parents relationship with their son is far more important.

3.Alfie needs prayer, not protest. Imagine, just for a moment, if every person who has thought even for a second about this emotive case, was instead turned towards prayer, asking for God’s will to be done, asking for peace for his parents, for ultimate healing for Alfie, for a relaxation in the rhetoric and an imagination of what could be, rather than what is. I think that the media circus, fuelled by people acting in the name of Jesus, has served to undermine and deflect prayer, and to make Alfie’s suffering more about other things, than about this little boy clinging to life in a hotel bed.

4.Alfie’s parents need love, not litigation. Regardless of what happens, I don’t get much of a sense that Mr Evans and Ms James (interesting, if crass, to note that CLC seem not to mind about the marital status of this couple) are being loved well and ongoing-ly by a local community of Christ-followers. Do Tom and Kate only matter to us as figureheads for debates? Do they only matter as people to be plastered all over the media, to fuel the latest controversy? Or, as I perhaps suspect, are they (like their son) valuable people made in the Image of God, desiring and deserving of love?

I’ve offered four thoughts.

Here is a fifth.

We cannot now think meaningfully about Alfie’s situation. We can only pray.

Throughout my reading and reflection and thinking and writing and weeping and praying over Alfie’s story, this passage of scripture has been in the background:

“There is a time for everything,

That, in case you didn’t recognise it, was from Ecclesiastes 3.

If we take the Bible seriously, then this sobering and poignant passage offers us fuel for prayer and a posture of hope. What if (just imagine with me a ‘what if’) the unexpected happened?

More to the point, as we pray, let us lean in to the promise and invitation that “everything God does will endure forever“.

I don’t normally do this, but here is a suggested prayer. Sometimes praying other people’s words is the only way we can begin to pray:

Dear God,

We thank you for the life of Alfie Evans. We praise you that he has parents that love him, doctors that care for him, and that he was born in a way that values him.

Protect him, King Jesus, as he navigates life, between controversy and the need to breathe.

Be with him, Holy Spirit, as he struggles for life, and as his parents wrestle with how best to care for him.

Father God, you know this situation. You care for all those who bear your image. Would you comfort those who mourn, be with those who have no children and yet feel Alfie’s parents pain, and speak peace and truth into the hearts of all your children.

We ask that, in spite of the storm of emotions and statements, rights and responsibilities, your Kingdom would come, your will would be done, on earth as it is in heaven.

We pray this in the name of the Father, Son and Holy Spirit.

Amen