Last rites: why rights of Catholics should be observed

The crowning cruelty in the appalling murder of Sir David Amess was that this devoutly practising Catholic was denied the Last Sacraments. The revelation that Essex Police refused the local parish priest access to Sir David to administer the last rites has provoked outrage and concern among Catholics.

There seems to be no discrepancy between the priest’s account of what happened and the police version. Father Jeffrey Woolnough described how he arrived at Belfairs Methodist church in Leigh-on-Sea in the aftermath of the MP’s stabbing: “When I got there, I showed [my] card to the police and I asked if there was any chance that I can get in, and in fairness, the policeman there radioed through and said: ‘I’m afraid not, this is a crime scene’.”

A spokesman for Essex Police stated that preserving the integrity of crime scenes was of “the utmost importance” and that a secure cordon was a “fundamental part of any investigation to ensure the best possible chance of securing justice for any victim and their family”.

Apparently embarrassed by the controversy, Father Woolnough has since gone on record as saying that he respects the police decision and has no criticism of them. That shows an edifying Christian charity, but it overlooks aspects of this case that are of grave concern.

Everyone understands the need to keep a crime scene intact, leaving possible forensic evidence undisturbed. But, naturally, that did not cause the police to bar entry by doctors and paramedics battling to save Sir David Amess’s life. Their exemption from being excluded was necessary and acknowledged. So, why was the individual who came to minister to the victim’s soul excluded, while those ministering to the body were admitted?

Why did the officer who ordered the priest’s exclusion over the police radio not have the courtesy to discuss the situation with the priest? He would undoubtedly have spoken to any doctor who arrived. Let us be clear about what was at issue. Clearly, in the situation of Sir David Amess, there could be no question of interrupting doctors in their task of trying to save his life. No one is suggesting the full last rites – confession, communion and anointing – could have been administered, as at a peaceful hospital deathbed.

What was needed was the most crucial element, the absolution of all sins, to have been pronounced, taking less than a minute, at some distance from the stricken man, but in the same room. No interruption of medical procedures was necessary. This could have been explained to the police, if an officer of sufficient seniority had made himself available. Apparently, the administering of the last rites to crime victims in the jurisdiction of Essex Police is not considered of any importance.

To Catholics it is of supreme importance. In extreme cases, in Catholic belief, it may make the difference between salvation and damnation. Moreover, there is a long tradition of sensitive cooperation between Catholic clergy and public or emergency services on this issue. During the 20^th century, generations of police officers, hospital doctors and others who had served in two World Wars were familiar with the heroism of military padres on the battlefield, risking their lives to bring spiritual consolation to dying men. They understood the importance to Catholics of the last rites and routinely called priests to hospitals or fatal accidents.

That civilised cooperation has withered. As Father Woolnough observed: “The police don’t call you any more unless the family ask for it.” That is a reflection of the deliberate, secularist-inspired marginalisation of Christianity and it is now having a seriously damaging effect on even the spiritual well-being of Catholics, to whom the last rites are an issue of enormous importance.

There are no police guidelines for allowing priests to access those in articulo mortis. Some need to be drafted immediately, in generous terms, or perhaps minor legislation is required; that would be a fitting memorial to Sir David Amess. Behind this issue, crucial in its own right, lies a whole hinterland of growing exclusion of Christianity, in all its denominations, from the public square. 

Simultaneously with the emergence of the precarious position of Catholics in Britain with regard to access to the last rites, a violent assault on one of the Church’s most sacred institutions has been launched in France. This month the French Interior Minister, Gérald Darmanin, canvassed the notion that clergy should break the seal of the confession if child abuse was involved. That outrageous suggestion was included among 45 recommendations made by the Sauvé Report on sexual abuse in the Church, whose findings were beyond shocking.

But one sin does not justify another, and the demand by secularists for priests to be jailed if they will not break the confessional seal, increasingly heard around the world, is just part of the general assault trying to batter down all the Church’s core principles. Many non-Catholics understandably shudder at the thought of kneeling down, even anonymously, and confessing all one’s most secret sins, even of thought, to a priest. As anyone can see, such a delicate arrangement depends absolutely on trust. For that, secrecy must be absolute.

For two thousand years it has been the unchanging and unchangeable teaching of the Catholic Church that the secrecy of the confessional is absolute, admitting of no exceptions whatsoever. Priests have died under torture rather than break the seal; to do so entails automatic excommunication and probably expulsion from the priesthood. The theological basis is that the penitent is confessing his sins to God; the priest is merely a mediator, an instrument of forgiveness. Only inviolable secrecy can adequately protect the penitent.

In ordinary, secular terms, the demands for violation of the confessional seal are self-defeating: what sex abuser would go to confession if he knew the priest was liable to report him to the police? All that would be achieved would be to exclude the possibility of offenders repenting, confessing and amending their lives. The same arguments could be employed with regard to murder and a host of other serious crimes.

The Archbishop of Reims, Éric de Moulins-Beaufort, who is also president of the French Bishops’ Conference, gave a forthright response, declaring that the seal of the confessional was above the laws of the French Republic. That is true, just as many priests gave their lives during the French Revolution rather than swear the oath to the civil constitution of the clergy. The Archbishop was summoned to a meeting with the Interior Minister, following which it was claimed he had changed his stance, the waters being further muddied by a meaningless statement from the Bishops’ Conference. A final correction by a spokeswoman made it clear the Archbishop and his episcopal confrères would stand firmly by the confessional seal.

In Australia, a law has been passed in the state of Queensland, obliging priests to break the confessional seal; it will have no effect. Nor will any other legislation that Australia may pass, following the recommendations of a Royal Commission. Such legislation is futile, since no one knows what occurs under the seal of the confessional. It is possible provocateurs posing as penitents might seek to entrap a priest; if so, public revulsion would be intense. In 2019 California tried to pass a law against the seal of the confessional; it had to be withdrawn when its majority melted away after lawmakers received more than 125,000 objections.

The Church is the ultimate and principal target in the culture wars. It is well used to that role, especially since the emergence of Marxism as its chief persecutor in the early 20^th century and still attacking it today. The Church will not be unduly dismayed: it comes with the territory.

In Britain, however, we need to address the urgent problem of guaranteeing access by the faithful to the last rites, and similar issues being abused by a secularist society.