Karen Kaplan grew up in Erie, Pennsylvania, and now lives in Kearny, New Jersey. After graduating with her BA from Oberlin College, Kaplan came to Austin to study linguistics at UT. Her studies led her to life abroad and then back, but it’s arguably after graduation that she made her biggest leap — attending seminary and being ordained in 1992 as one of the nation’s early female rabbis. For 15 years she served as a hospice chaplain, sitting with countless patients as they faced the end of their lives, and in 2014 she published a book based on her experiences, Encountering the Edge: What People Told Me Before They Died. While the subject matter can be heavy, Kaplan says she tries to keep a “kind of whimsical, humorous tone” when speaking or writing about her work in hospice. She continues to write about her work as a chaplain and her experiences with language on her blog, offbeatcompassion.wordpress.com
On getting involved:
In my undergraduate years at Oberlin, I did my own self-designed major and studied linguistics. I picked courses like “History of the English Language” and sociolinguistics from the anthropology department, and I went to some summer institutes at the University of Chicago. I saw that UT had one of the top linguistics departments in the world, so I thought I’d apply to do my Ph.D. in Austin. I also liked the idea of all the social events and cultural events outside. I got accepted and went and I was active in all kinds of things while I was in Austin, including Jewish life at the Hillel. I even ended up leading a service or two when the rabbi was off, so that was a precursor to things to come. And I had good friends at UT, too. I’d never had such good friends, and I still know them now.
On working in security:
During my Ph.D. I took one year off to teach English in Japan because the program wanted students to learn a non-European language. Linguistics doctoral students needed three languages, so I had Spanish, Japanese, and English. I lived in Kurashiki, which is a small town with no English, and I was really intrigued by the culture and the grammar. Japanese has different levels of formality and informality that are much more extensive than in French or Spanish. It depends on your gender, your age, your work history, all these different levels of formality. It’s very interesting.
When I was back in Austin I had a summer job as a security guard for a women’s dorm. I was the first woman to be hired as their security guard, and it was a lot of fun. I just walked down the halls and made sure everything was okay. Boys had to give me slips to come in, say why they were coming into the dorm, and I got to walk around the garage and have a little unit one, unit two radio with the boss saying things like “come in, please.” Thank God nothing ever happened. Once I asked my boss, “Why did you hire me?” He said, “Well, you’re well-traveled, you went to Japan.” So that’s how one quirky thing led to another.
On working as a hospice chaplain:
After I graduated with my Ph.D. I joined the Spanish department at Denison University in Ohio. Then I realized that I really enjoyed Hillel and expanding Jewish life, and I decided to be a rabbi. I didn’t get tenure and there wasn’t much chance to really do what I wanted at Denison— they only had me teaching very elementary Spanish to kids that were not interested in it — and I thought, “I need to do something more meaningful, use my skills.” So, I decided to go a different route and become a rabbi, which was pretty unusual for women in those days. I’m about the 200th female rabbi, definitely among the first 200.
At first I did some pulpit work and then eventually I saw that pastoral care was my strength, so the bulk of my career has been that. When I worked as a hospice chaplain what I tried to do was make it not so frightening for people. And I’d hear these amazing, intimate stories or memories, sometimes very nice memories, and all kinds of things that people would reveal because they knew I was there to really listen without any baggage. With a relative they might have to act cheerful, whereas with a spiritual supporter they could just say what they really were thinking. I would create a lot of quiet time, not talk much, and ask very general questions — which is really the whole point of being a chaplain. It’s not to impose anything or direct the dialogue or, God forbid, proselytize. Chaplains don’t do that, they’re not supposed to. They’re supposed to create a sacred space for the families and the patients to open up and talk about whatever it is, whether it’s a football game, or the meaning of life, or what happens when they die, or how are they going to cope with death. And once in a while there’s a real genuine interaction where something special is being shared, and it’s hard to describe, but it’s so poignant.