(Editor’s note: The following post is by Ben Janzen, PhD, whose vast and varied spiritual journey took him from a German monastery to service as a California minister, hospice chaplain, and Catholic priest. When the Golden State legalized aid in dying through its End of Life Option Act, it posed a dilemma for Ben because the Catholic Church vehemently opposes Medical Aid in Dying. How does he reconcile the church’s stance with his role as a compassionate and supportive chaplain?)
I grew up in rural Roman Catholic Germany in the ‘60s and ‘70s with two older siblings, though we are very close in age with just 17 months between each child. My father worked in road construction and was home only on the weekends. My mother was a homemaker, and my maternal grandmother took a very active part in our upbringing. We were all regulars at church on Sundays and high holidays, including ritual celebrations of first communion and confirmation.
During our early teenage years, our attendance diminished more and more. We went through our schooling; my brother became a plumber; my sister became a cook and hotel manager, and I became a Franciscan Capuchin friar at the age of 20.
Five years earlier, I started to look for something meaningful. I reconnected with my church and became quite active in participating and facilitating youth group meetings, leading to a desire to continue this kind of work as a living. I found the Capuchin Franciscan Brothers and spent some time in a monastery for a retreat.
From early childhood on, my interest was in science and philosophy; I read books on evolution, creation, cosmology, and science fiction. I greatly enjoyed my time as a student and completed a curriculum in philosophy that comprised extensive classwork and a small thesis on the Absurd in the work of French philosopher Albert Camus.
My theological studies centered on the work of Karl Rahner (1904-1984). The two pillars of his theology were the transcendental experience of the divine as a philosophical/theological principle and the Jesuit tradition of the Retreat according to the guidelines of Ignatius of Loyola.
His base assumption was that God/the Spirit would work in conjunction with the soul of the faithful. Instead of thinking that God’s grace would work solely from “up” to “down,” transcendental theology would start from the experience of grace and from there would come to conclusions of the history of salvation among the people of God. The faithful become authors of their individual history of salvation within the context of the people of God, and not just an object of God’s grace.
I finished my master’s with a thesis mysticism in everyday life, strongly leaning on the concept of the Anonymous Christians. While somewhat outdated now, this once-controversial view was that all human beings of good will, whether or not they are confessing Catholics, have access to eternal salvation because their actions are inherently infused and guided by the Holy Spirit. Any person following their conscience is within God’s grace, which has many faces.
After my master’s program, I was fortunate enough for my superiors to allow me to enter a PhD program. This was highly unusual, as higher studies were usually reserved to ordained brothers. I was humbled to be the first exception to that rule in the history of German Capuchins.
I was encouraged to compare notions of salvation in Christian spirituality with those of other religions, especially Hinduism and Buddhism. Although the creeds and the dogmas of both religions are very different, I was personally inspired by the similarities between the devotion taught in the Hindu Kama-Yoga (the way of Love) and in the Pure Land concept of Amida Buddhism.
After immersing myself in the study of how the spirituality and beauty of any religion can enlighten people of all faiths, I became a teacher of comparative religions at the very college from which I graduated.
My passion for science fiction led me to examine the role of religion in Star Trek (an extensive study object, believe it or not). I taught several seminars with a colleague, and we were encouraged to continue our studies and publish our findings together. Since there was no institution in Germany that would accommodate studies in science fiction, we had to come to the U.S., were I was exposed to a different world.
This friar had to live by himself, organize himself, teach, learn, and the world was very different from life in the German monastery. I became more independent and self-assured. I embraced my sexuality and eventually met the man who would become my husband. I left the order in 2006 after being a friar for almost 24 years.
In 2010, I started working as a chaplain at VITAS® Healthcare, the largest hospice provider in the country and a training site for professional chaplaincy. One of the principles of chaplaincy is to help patients connect with their source of hope, love, and meaning.
In search of a spiritual community that would support my work as a chaplain, I found a congregation in the United Church of Christ (UCC), where I was commissioned as a minister and have now been a member for 11 years. Recently, I also had the chance to connect with the Progressive Catholic Church, which is independent from Rome. I was ordained a priest within the Old Catholic tradition, allowing me to provide sacraments to all Catholics.
In 2016, California’s End of Life Option Act (ELOA) was passed, legalizing Medical Aid in Dying (MAiD). Immediately, the Roman Catholic Church condemned the ELOA and deemed it an act against God, regardless of the circumstances. So, how can I – as a minister and now as a Catholic priest – position myself regarding this legal option for patients to end their suffering?
The UCC did something exceptional. Instead of issuing a blank statement approving or disapproving, several UCC ministers who work in hospice developed a program for congregations to think about the ELOA and ponder what faithfully facing death means today in the context of high-tech medical care.
Too often, modern medicine does whatever it can because it still sees death as a failure; mere survival is often more important than quality of life. In chaplaincy, I met people from all occupations and lifestyles. I learned not to be guided by my own assumptions, but by what the patients want and need. Rather than a spiritual guide, the chaplain is more like a companion on the road.
My role as a chaplain is not to tell people what to do or to pass judgment on what they do. I focus on listening, in order to help my patients and their families better understand their options.
In many situations, families think they owe it to the patient to exhaust all possible medical treatment options, sometimes losing sight of quality of life. I am a source of support and a soundboard in their attempt to determine what is important to pursue or to relinquish at this point in their life.
The philosophy of hospice is to increase end-of-life quality. However, what makes life worth living is as individual as fingerprints. My hope as a chaplain is that the Spirit works within people as they make their end-of-life decisions.
Thanks, Ben, for sharing your spiritual journey. Public opinion surveys show that Catholics support physician aid in dying at about the same level of the general public (over 70%). They deserve to have the support of someone like you, who shares their religious background.