A Declaration of Meaning
The place was Berkeley, California, a university town often thought of as liberal and vocal in its views. The time was a weekend in the early seventies. The event was the presentation of a play written by the now late psychiatrist Dr. Viktor Frankl within three years of Frankl’s release from the Nazi concentration camps. For me it was one of the most memorable weekends of my life.
Two friends and I flew up to Berkeley for the weekend, which included not only attending the play but meeting people like Dr. Frankl and spending some time with friends.
Viktor Frankl was the feature of the weekend, however. A survivor of Hitler’s concentration camps, Buchenwald, Dacau, and Auschwitz, Dr. Frankl, a psychiatrist from Vienna, had devoted his life to the promotion of his psychological message of Logotherapy, a therapy of meaning. For he had discovered in the concentration camps that you can endure any how if you know the why of your existence. Suffering cannot be eradicated from this earth, but meaning can make suffering endurable.
Prior to this weekend, I had read most of what Frankl had written, and he had influenced me profoundly as a young psychotherapist. His message of meaning fit right into my own commitment to Christ as my meaning and focus in life. Therefore, just meeting him was a pleasure, and when he took time to ask about my own books and borrowed them for an evening, I was thrilled, particularly when his response to them was positive.
Yet the real highlight of the weekend, for me, even more than the play, was when Frankl spoke. It was the evening before the play, and the auditorium filled up with students and intellectuals as well as a mixture of others. I don’t remember details of what he said. But as clearly as if it were yesterday I remember one stunning moment. During a question and answer time a young man stood up and asked: “Do you believe in euthanasia, Dr. Frankl?” Since euthanasia was not a common topic of interest at that time, most people probably viewed the question as abstract or purely intellectual.
An awesome quiet filled the room. Frankl, who was a short, thin, but very imposing looking man with piercing blue eyes, drew himself up to his full height. His facial expression became severe, and the quietness persisted.
“I think if you know my experiences in the camps, you will know what I feel about euthanasia,” he replied in essence. “I do not believe in it.” His voice was dignified but authoritative and left no hint of opportunity for debate. The fact that the question itself seemed to be an offense to Frankl highlighted the depth of his conviction on the subject.
During World War II and before, Dr. Frankl had lived, not only with the attempted genocide of the Jews, but with medicalized killing of the elderly, the deformed, the hopeless in a prewar society in Germany which was aiming at perfecting the ideal race and eliminating all “useless eaters,” those whom we would now call people with poor quality of life. Frankl had seen the “slippery slope” in action, and to me his body
language, even more than his words that day, was unforgettable. The image of him standing there is forever burned into my memory.
We in the Judeo-Christian tradition give at least lip service to the preciousness of life. As Americans we talk a lot about the rights of individuals. But for me few moments have been as pregnant with the meaning of life as watching this brave man declare the value of a human life. After losing his family, his medical practice, and a precious manuscript to the Nazis, he had the credentials to speak about the value of life at its worst. His declaration of meaning had the stamp of authenticity. He had been where many people might choose death over life. Many did. Many in the camps killed themselves, hopeless regarding any future. But he had not only chosen life, he had embraced it and he had made others wish to embrace it as well.
On that memorable evening in Berkeley, the audience was composed of many far left, vocal students who loved debate. But something in Dr. Frankl’s manner as well as what he had suffered forbade debate. A few years ago the world heard of his death. But the word that will always characterize him in my mind is Life.
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“Even when you are chased by those who seek your life, you are safe in the care of the Lord your God, just as though you were safe inside his purse! But the lives of your enemies shall disappear like stones from a sling!” – 1 Samuel 25:29 (The Living Bible)