Article
Comment
Race
5 min read

How reconciliation underpins acts of reparation

The case for reparations is criticised for looking too much to the past. Anthony Reddie argues that the ancient roots of reconciliation are vital for today’s debate.

Anthony Reddie is Professor of Black Theology at the University of Oxford, and Director of the Oxford Centre for Religion and Culture.

A diagram plan of a slave ship showing hundreds of body outlines.
Diagram of the ship ‘Brookes’ from Regulated slave trade: reprinted from the evidence of Robert Stokes. (London, 1849)
Lambeth Palace Library.

Reconciliation is the key theological motif that runs through the scriptures and across Christian Tradition - Reconciliation between God and humankind, reconciliation between human beings across the cultural, social, political, ethnic and economic divide, reconciliation between our warring selves within us. 

Paul’s writings form the earliest documented texts in the New Testament canon. His writings are full of references to God’s reconciling work in Christ on the cross. This theme, however, needs to be read in terms of Jewish thought. This will correct the over-spiritualising of this in Christian practice. 

To make sense of the notion of reconciliation one also must understand the Jewish antecedents that inform Paul’s writing, given Paul himself was a Jewish man. In the Hebrew scriptures and in Jewish thought, atonement and salvation are collective and corporate concepts. This is very different to much of what constitutes post-Reformation Evangelical Protestantism where the emphasis is on individual salvation in Christ, by grace, through faith. 

The Hebrew Bible traditions of the Sabbath and Jubilee were moments for system re-set and dismantling inequalities which had accrued. 

Essentially, being in right-standing with God necessitated that one should be in right relationships with others. In fact, one could argue that it appears to be the case that one cannot be in a right relationship with God unless you were doing right by the other. The above can be seen in the Old Testament book of Leviticus. The early verses of its sixth chapter clearly state the notion of restorative justice for that which was wrongly taken and used, which is described as a “sin against God”. 

One can also see this concept or formula evident within the book of Deuteronomy 15:12–18. The key is verse 12 which states:  

“If any of you buy Israelites as slaves, you must set free after six years. And don’t just tell them they are free to leave – give them sheep and goats and a supply of grain and wine.”  

As Peter Cruchley’s work on the Zacchaeus Tax campaign has shown, the Hebrew Bible traditions of the Sabbath and Jubilee were moments for system re-set and dismantling inequalities which had accrued. They were moments of breaking the cycling, ongoing basis of debt and economic enslavement. It’s worth reminding ourselves that not one penny has been given to any of the descendants of enslaved Africans for the wrong done to them and yet Christian communities in the West still want to talk about redemption that is affirmed by their Judeo-Christian roots! 

Understanding the scriptures in their historical context enables Christians to discern a theological pattern for using money and other resources for enacting restorative justice. Modern interpretive theories on how we read biblical texts take full account of the fact that the New Testament was written within the context of the Roman Empire, where the Emperor claimed divine honours which faithful Jews could not affirm. Today’s reader must recognise that the context in which ALL of the New Testament canon was composed was one that echoed to the restrictive strains of colonialism and cries for justice against oppression. Judea, in which Jesus’ ministry was largely located, was an occupied colony of the Roman Empire. 

Contemporary scholars have shown that in the Jewish tradition, issues of reconciliation, redemption and salvation have a corporate ad a collective dimension to them as well as an individualistic one. 

Scholars such William R. Hertzog II have shown the extent to which wealth in the Roman Province of Palestine was always connected with economic exploitation. So, when Jesus challenges the ‘Rich Young Ruler’ to follow him, he says this in knowledge that the young man’s accumulation of wealth was not amassed in a neutral context. The reason why this encounter is so compact is because both the Rich Young Ruler and those first hearers knew the expectation of how he should behave. 

The Three Cs (commerce, civilisation and Christianity) were the underlying rationale on which the British Empire was based. The Three Cs were coined by David Livingstone (a London Missionary Society ‘Old Boy’) in Oxford in 1857. The exporting of Christianity via the European missionary agencies in the eighteen and nineteenth centuries was largely undertaken under the aegis of empire and colonialism. Christian mission, therefore, has had a difficult relationship with non-White bodies or the ‘subaltern’ for centuries as they are the ‘other’ and have been exploited for economic gain. There was no ethic of equality between missionaries and the ‘natives’. 

One can see that Jesus’ teachings around wealth and its relationship to discipleship and living the “Jesus way” has political and economic implications. Scholars such as Musa W. Dube, Catherine Keller, Michael Nausner and Mayra Rivera, have all shown the similarities between first-century Palestine, the slave epoch of the sixteenth to eighteenthcenturies, the eras of colonialism and our present globalized, postcolonial context. Each context is based upon imperialistic/colonial expansion, capital accumulation, forced labour and exploitation of the poor by the rich. 

Pharaohs on Both Sides of the Blood-Red Waters is the title of a 2017 book by the famed anti-apartheid activist and scholar Allan Boesak, who reflects on the contemporary ‘Black Lives Matter Movement’ largely in the US and post-Apartheid South Africa. In this context he speaks of the corporate reality of ‘Cheap Grace’ as outlined by the famous German theologian Dietrich Bonhoeffer. The West has attempted transformation WITHOUT sacrifice or restorative justice. Bonhoeffer chided Western Christians for wanting to have discipleship without radical commitment to God’s word, and forgiveness and redemption without struggle and sacrifice. Boesak reminds us that there is no redemption without the cross. Reconciliation must cost us something! 

Due to the influence of post-Reformation Evangelicalism, we have largely interpreted Jesus’ words in a purely individualistic way. Contemporary scholars have shown that in the Jewish tradition, issues of reconciliation, redemption and salvation have a corporate and a collective dimension to them as well as an individualistic one. 

I believe that institutions like the Church of England can set a prophetic lead to other Christian institutions, and beyond it, to other civic bodies and indeed governments.  ‘Cheap Grace’ NEVER leads to redemption and reconciliation. Without restorative justice there is no reconciliation, and the mission of Christ is diminished.

Article
Care
Comment
Economics
Ethics
4 min read

NHS: How far do we go to feed the sacred system?

Balancing safeguards and economic expediencies after the assisted dying vote.

Callum is a pastor, based on a barge, in London's Docklands.

A patient eye view of six surgeons looking down.
National Cancer Institute via Unsplash.

“Die cheaply, protect the NHS” It sounds extreme, but it could become an unspoken policy. With MPs voting on 29th November to advance the assisted dying bill, Britain stands at a crossroads. Framed as a compassionate choice for the terminally ill, the bill raises profound ethical, societal, and economic concerns. In a nation where the NHS holds near-sacred status, this legislation risks leading us to a grim reality: lives sacrificed to sustain an overstretched healthcare system. 

The passage of this legislation demands vigilance. To avoid human lives being sacrificed at the altar of an insatiable healthcare system, we must confront the potential dangers of assisted dying becoming an economic expedient cloaked in compassion. 

The NHS has been part of British identity since its founding, offering universal care, free at the point of use. To be clear, this is a good thing—extraordinary levels of medical care are accessible to all, regardless of income. When my wife needed medical intervention while in labour, the NHS ensured we were not left with an unpayable bill. 

Yet the NHS is more than a healthcare system; it has become a cultural icon. During the COVID-19 pandemic, it was elevated to near-religious status with weekly clapping, rainbow posters, and public declarations of loyalty. To criticise or call for reform often invites accusations of cruelty or inhumanity. A 2020 Ipsos MORI poll found that 74 per cent of Britons cited the NHS as a source of pride, more than any other institution. 

However, the NHS’s demands continue to grow: waiting lists stretch ever longer, staff are overworked and underpaid, and funding is perpetually under strain. Like any idol, it demands sacrifices to sustain its appetite. In this context, the introduction of assisted dying legislation raises troubling questions about how far society might go to feed this sacred system. 

Supporters of the Assisted Dying Bill argue that it will remain limited to exceptional cases, governed by strict safeguards. However, international evidence suggests otherwise. 

In Belgium, the number of euthanasia cases rose by 267 per cent in less than a decade, with 2,656 cases in 2019 compared to 954 in 2010. Increasingly, these cases involve patients with psychiatric disorders or non-terminal illnesses. Canada has seen similar trends since legalising medical assistance in dying (MAiD) in 2016. By 2021, over 10,000 people had opted for MAiD, with eligibility expanding to include individuals with disabilities, mental health conditions, and even financial hardships. 

The argument for safeguards is hardly reassuring, history shows they are often eroded over time. In Belgium and Canada, assisted dying has evolved from a last resort for the terminally ill to an option offered to the vulnerable and struggling. This raises an urgent question: how do we ensure Britain doesn’t follow this trajectory? 

The NHS is under immense strain. With limited resources and growing demand, the temptation to frame assisted dying as an economic solution is real. While supporters present the legislation as compassionate, the potential for financial incentives to influence its application cannot be ignored. 

Healthcare systems exist to uphold human dignity, not reduce life to an economic equation.

Consider a scenario: you are diagnosed with a complex, long-term, ultimately terminal illness. Option one involves intricate surgery, a lengthy hospital stay, and gruelling physiotherapy. The risks are high, the recovery tough, life not significantly lengthened, and the costs significant. Opting for this could be perceived as selfish—haven’t you heard how overstretched the NHS is? Don’t you care about real emergencies? Option two offers a "dignified" exit: assisted dying. It spares NHS resources and relieves your family of the burden of prolonged care. What starts as a choice may soon feel like an obligation for the vulnerable, elderly, or disabled—those who might already feel they are a financial or emotional burden. 

This economic argument is unspoken but undeniable. When a system is stretched to breaking point, compassion risks becoming a convenient cloak for expedience. 

The Assisted Dying Bill marks a critical moment for Britain. If passed into law, as now seems inevitable, it could redefine not only how we view healthcare but how we value life itself. To prevent this legislation from becoming a slippery slope, we must remain vigilant against the erosion of safeguards and the pressure of economic incentives. 

At the same time, we must reassess our relationship with the NHS. It must no longer occupy a place of unquestioning reverence. Instead, we should view it with a balance of admiration and accountability. Reforming the NHS isn’t about dismantling it but ensuring it serves its true purpose: to protect life, not demand it. 

Healthcare systems exist to uphold human dignity, not reduce life to an economic equation. If we continue to treat the NHS as sacred, the costs—moral, spiritual, and human—will become unbearable. 

This moment requires courage: the courage to confront economic realities without compromising our moral foundations. As a society, we must advocate for policies that prioritise care, defend the vulnerable, and resist the reduction of life to an equation. Sacrifices will always be necessary in a healthcare system, but they must be sacrifices of commitment to care, not lives surrendered to convenience. 

The path forward demands thoughtful reform and a collective reimagining of our values. If we value dignity and compassion, we must ensure that they remain more than rhetoric—they must be the principles that guide our every decision.