Two Votes, One Soul: Why Denying the Eucharist to MP Chris Coghlan Was a Necessary Act of Courage

There are weeks in political life that define a man. Weeks when the mask slips, and we see not only the soul of an individual, but the crumbling spiritual and moral foundation of an entire political class. For Chris Coghlan, the newly elected Liberal Democrat MP for Dorking and Horley, such a week came in June 2025. And it was devastating.

In the span of just a few days, Coghlan voted first to decriminalise abortion, including provisions that would allow it up to birth. Then he voted to legalise assisted suicide, paving the way for the state to help end the lives of the elderly, sick, and vulnerable under the guise of mercy. Two votes. Two attacks on the most fundamental Catholic teaching of all: the sanctity and inviolability of human life.

Yet it wasn’t just the votes that made headlines. It was what happened next.

Coghlan’s parish priest, Father Ian Vane, had reached out to him before the vote, in private and pastoral charity. As a priest — and a custodian of the sacraments — he offered a clear warning: a vote in favour of assisted suicide would constitute obstinate perseverance in grave sin. And should Coghlan proceed, he would be denied the Eucharist. The warning was as firm as it was compassionate.

Coghlan ignored the warning. He voted for the bill anyway. And the following Sunday, when he attempted to present himself for the Eucharist at St. Joseph’s Catholic Church in Dorking, he was refused.

It was the right decision. It was a necessary decision.

I say that not with vindictiveness or glee, but with solemn clarity. Because I am a Catholic. I believe, as the Church teaches, that the Eucharist is not a symbol. It is not a ritual of belonging. It is Jesus Christ Himself — Body, Blood, Soul, and Divinity — truly present under the appearance of bread and wine. It is the source and summit of our faith. Nothing is more sacred.

To receive the Eucharist in a state of mortal sin is itself a grave offense. To do so publicly, after knowingly defying Church teaching on a matter of life and death, is to profane the sacrament. And to permit that, as a priest, would be to participate in the scandal.

Yes, we are all sinners. Every one of us stands in need of mercy. Most of the time, that mercy is offered quietly, pastorally, in the confessional, with discretion and compassion. But this case is different.

Chris Coghlan is not a confused layman struggling with a private moral failing. He is a Member of Parliament. A man of power. A representative of the state. And he used that platform to publicly attack the very foundations of the Church’s moral teaching, not once, but twice. Worse, he did so after being personally warned by his own priest, and in full knowledge of the consequences. In doing so, he disobeyed not only his pastor, but his bishop, and ultimately, the Holy Father himself, whose unwavering position on both abortion and assisted suicide is abundantly clear.

This wasn’t private sin. This was public, deliberate disobedience at the highest level — carried out in the most visible forum possible, by a man who identifies as Catholic. The act demanded a response that was just as public.

What else could Father Vane do? Pretend nothing happened? Smile and hand him the Eucharist as if all were well? That would be pastoral malpractice. That would be cowardice. Instead, Father Vane did the hard thing. The lonely thing. The right thing.

And of course, the backlash came. Coghlan called it "outrageous." He filed a formal complaint with Bishop Richard Moth of Arundel and Brighton. The press howled. Secular commentators sneered at the priest for daring to take his faith seriously. But amid all the noise, one truth remains: the priest was right.

Because if we cannot draw the line here — if we cannot say that publicly supporting abortion to birth and the deliberate killing of the sick places one outside communion with the Church — then the line has ceased to exist at all.

The Church has always taught that those who persist in manifest grave sin must not be admitted to the Eucharist. This is not about punishment. It is about protecting the sacrament, and about calling the sinner back to repentance.

Canon 915 of the Code of Canon Law is clear:

"Those who have been excommunicated or interdicted after the imposition or declaration of the penalty and others who obstinately persist in manifest grave sin are not to be admitted to Holy Communion."

Note those words: obstinately, persist, manifest, grave. Coghlan's actions check every box.

He was warned. He persisted. He sinned gravely. He did so in full public view, in defiance of Church authority. The response had to be equally public.

This wasn’t just a matter of personal conscience. This was a calculated rejection of the Gospel, dressed up in parliamentary respectability. It demanded clarity. It demanded action.

And in taking that action, Father Ian Vane has done more than uphold canon law. He has given a witness that every man should take to heart.

Because what we saw in that small English parish wasn’t just a theological dispute. It was a moment of masculine virtue. Of spiritual fatherhood. Of moral courage.

We live in a time when conviction is rare and courage even rarer. When priests are often expected to act more like social workers than shepherds. When bishops waffle and defer, afraid of bad press. When men are told that strength and clarity are "toxic masculinity."

But Father Vane stood tall.

He showed what it means to be a man. To draw a line. To uphold truth in the face of power. To risk public scorn rather than betray his sacred duty.

He is in good company. Think of St. Thomas More, the great English martyr who lost everything rather than betray the Church’s teaching on marriage and the authority of the Pope. More could have taken the easy way out. He could have gone along to get along. Instead, he stood alone — and paid for it with his life.

“I die the King’s good servant, but God’s first,” he said.

In his quiet, firm, unwavering way, Father Vane followed in those footsteps.

This is what the world needs. Not more consensus. Not more silence. But more men — and more priests — who stand for something.

And that includes all of us, especially those of us in business, in leadership, or in any position of influence. We, too, are called to draw lines. To speak truth. To refuse to bend.

It doesn’t matter whether you’re facing down a boardroom or a bishop. The principle is the same: Stand for what is right, even when it costs you.

We have had enough smooth-talking compromisers. Enough empty suits. Enough MPs who parade Catholic identity on Sunday while voting for death on Monday.

We need men with spines.

Like St. Thomas More. Like Father Ian Vane.

May their example give us the courage to speak when the world tells us to be silent. To act when the world urges caution. And to love the truth more than we love our comfort.

Because in the end, it’s not just about votes. It’s not even just about politics.

It’s about the eternal destiny of souls.

And nothing — nothing — is more important than that.