The Apostle of a Happy Death

By Fr. Jerry Pokorsky ( bio - articles - email ) | Mar 03, 2025

In the healthcare business, there is good news and bad news. The good news: According to recent news reports, Artificial Intelligence (AI) technology promises to extend life by 50 years. The bad news: AI promises to extend life by 50 years. When it comes to human longevity, at some point, enough is enough.

God created Adam and Eve to live, forever sustained by the Tree of Life. God does not take delight in suffering and death following the Fall. “I have no pleasure in the death of anyone, says the Lord God; so turn, and live.” (Ez. 18:32) God promises a long life and success for those who keep his commandments (cf. Dt. 5:33). Moses lived 120 years.

We naturally desire a long life. Spanish explorer Juan Ponce de León came to the New World in search of the fountain of youth. Mr. Spock on Star Trek wished, “Live long and prosper.” The medical and pharmaceutical establishment spends billions on medical research, treatment, and advertising. But God removed the Tree of Life from the Garden after original sin as an act of mercy. Death limits human suffering.

When we’re young, doctors heal us. We receive treatment for broken bones, torn tendons, and the common cold. As we turn fifty or sixty, the mission of doctors expands. Unable to cure chronic conditions, medical treatment extends our lives. Blood pressure medicine and pacemakers don’t cure heart disease. Procedures merely postpone its deadly effects. Inevitably the body loses the race of life. But doctors and family members often get in the way of natural death.

The ancient Oath of Hippocrates reinforces the Church’s natural-law teaching on medical ethics:

I will follow that system of regimen which—according to my ability and judgment—I consider for the benefit of my patients—and abstain from whatever is deleterious and mischievous—I will give no deadly medicine to anyone if asked—nor suggest any such counsel—and in like manner I will not give to a woman a pessary to produce abortion—with purity and with holiness I will pass my life and practice my art…into whatever houses I enter—I will go into them for the benefit of the sick—and will abstain from every voluntary act of mischief and corruption—and further—from the seduction of females or males…

Various medical associations have conveniently introduced alternative oaths to guide the ethics of medical personnel. The innovations allow for the usual modern Frankenstein procedures. Let’s return to the reasonable natural-law ethics of a Greek pagan. Invoke the authentic Oath of Hippocrates.

God is the master of life. We are its servants. We are duty-bound to use ordinary means to sustain our lives. We aim for healthy diets and receive medical treatment as reasonable and necessary but refuse unreasonable, excessive, and repulsive treatment. Sometimes, the body heals itself or needs medical help with the healing process. Sometimes, treatment is futile and even torturous.

Everyone knows—or eventually will know—the medical drama of life and death. Everyone faces the puzzles of medical treatment in family life, and medical professionals encounter them daily. Like doctors and nurses, priests administering the sacraments also see the good, the bad, and the ugly of medical care.

Hospital chaplains go from room to room visiting the sick. It is hard work. In one room, the patient is happy because he receives good news. The surgery was a great success. In the next room the mood is grim; the doctor gives the patient one week to live. Although families are often unable to grasp the beauty of a “happy death,” a priest develops dispassionate eyes to witness the death of a beloved person in the presence of his family after receiving the sacraments.

Some situations are not so happy. A woman suffers a massive stroke and will not survive. Local members of the family who tend to her needs aim to keep her comfortable as she slips into eternity. Other members insist that the doctors do everything possible to keep her alive. It is an ugly scene, with the disturbing likelihood that some are trying to justify their absence—and even neglect—by posturing exaggerated concern. So they order unnecessary and painful medical care to prolong her life.

The opposite extreme is also becoming common—but hard to document because it involves unseen intentions. During the last weeks, days, and hours of life—and death is imminent—there may be no good reason to administer aggressive medical treatment. But there is a good reason to treat ancillary conditions (such as bed sores) and keep the person comfortable with cleanliness, food, water, and—as necessary—painkillers such as morphine.

Sometimes we may foresee that morphine shortens life. Reasonable administration is legitimate and morally correct. However the prospect of boosting the dose of morphine to kill with a deliberate intent is troubling. Those dying need our compassion. Just as Mary suffered with Jesus at the foot of the Cross, we must accompany our loved ones during their final hours with Christian sensibilities.

Jesus heals the sick and raises the dead. He expands the meaning of life: “I am the resurrection and the life; he who believes in me, though he die, yet shall he live, and whoever lives and believes in me shall never die.” (Jn. 11:25) The jaws of death lead to the Gate of Heaven.

St. Paul is the Apostle of a Happy Death. He rejoices in his life and death in Jesus: “If we live, we live to the Lord, and if we die, we die to the Lord; so then, whether we live or whether we die, we are the Lord’s.” (Rom. 14:8) “For to me to live is Christ, and to die is gain.” (Phil. 1:21)

We rejoice with Saint Paul’s exclamation of victory: “Death is swallowed up in victory. O death, where is thy victory? O death, where is thy sting?” (1 Cor. 15:55)