Thought Provoking Question #10

“Death is not a tragedy to the one who dies;

to have wasted the life before that death,

that is the tragedy.” 

                                                           ― Orson Scott Card,

                                                                            Shadow of the Hegemon

Spirit Divine and The Chaplain 

What comes to mind when you think of a chaplain? Is it some tall lanky older gentlemen with a deep frog-like voice? Or is it an oldish guy with large hands, shaggy white hair and owl-like eyes? You know the kind, with bushy eyebrows and finger waging bible thumbing bible verses strewing from his every comment? Or is it a man with a white cleric collar around his neck and tattered tweed coat? Well the above has always been my stereotype of what a chaplain and minister look like. Chaplains have always tended to remind me of undertakers and old wise men with death on their minds.  

Enter Linda Bacci --- a loving, plump, and fired up women, who though short in stature is long on spirit. Linda, who has a masters in pastoral counseling, has been in the care-giving business for a long time. She has been head of volunteers at Face to Face, staff at Home Hospice of Sonoma, and a professional chaplain, serving Sonoma County, for several years. An up front lesbian, whose business is care and chosen work people, Linda has always been gracious enough to find time to talk with students in my night class on death and dying at Santa Rosa Junior College. She is one of those down in the trench type saints we unfortunately fail to hear enough about these days.  

One’s first take on Linda when she enters the classroom is this can’t be a chaplain, with her spiked hair and punkish earrings, which she jokingly refers to as "her wild women look." And besides--God forbid--she has no white cleric collar. Is this MTV? No, it’s just part of the new breed of chaplains, who though probably in the minority, balance out the old-fashioned Bing Crosby "fire, hell, and brimstone" type that Hollywood has forever etched in our minds.  

Within minutes, Linda has mesmerized students and this writer with stories from her chapter on dying from life’s book of experiences. A chaplain’s life is difficult and trying with all the late night calls from hospital staff to rush and pay a visit to someone in need. Whether it be a devastated mother in the hospital recovery room after a stillbirth, or the routine surgical procedure that turned into terminal cancer with about two weeks to live, the chaplain’s lot in life, is one most of us wouldn’t have a clue how to handle--nor would we ever want to. Linda Bacci chose this work! A student asks "Do those close to death soften and change, become more spiritual, when death is near?" Linda replies, "most people leave life the way they lived life." In other words, if you’ve been a sonafabith much of your life, you tend to leave life that way as well. There are exceptions and there are some beautiful death bed scenes. But those tend to be more in the movies and in the "afternoon soaps" than in real life. She tells another story of this large family in the hospital room, all standing around the outer walls of the room, while a son named John dies of AIDS. She slowly begins to ask family members what was John like, tell me some funny stories about him. Ever so slowly the family begins to open up, first the sister spins a tale of growing up with her brother, some uneasy laughter follows. But soon, like a maestro leading an orchestra, the family is laughing and telling stories about John. Family members begin to sit on the edge of the bed, and they are holding John’s hand, and hugging him, and talking directly to him. "I’m out of here folks, my work’s done," Linda says, and leaves the hospital room. Indeed it was, for that’s the magic of a caring and skilled chaplain-- bring the family together-- and then leave them alone. People know how to show love though you have to "prime the pump" sometimes.  

"Chaplains have to be comfortable with long pauses" Linda says. Often there are no easy answers. "I sometimes envy smokers," quips our "wild-woman" chaplain, "they get to take a long draw on their cigarette before answering an important and poignant question. I have to look the dying in the eye, maybe hold their hand, and figure out something wise to say that might be helpful to them." Though raised Catholic, Linda is a non-denominational chaplain. One size fits all situations. Being a jack of all denominations can get you in trouble she muses. "One time I was asked to quote a particular Protestant version of the Lord’s Prayer, but I left out an important verse at the end, one which we Catholics don’t use. "That really pissed off the patient. I’ve learned to avoid leading the dance these days, I just follow now." There’s much life and love in her laugh. Another student asks what does she do to take care of herself so she is able to handle all this stress and daily tragedy. "I’ve learned I’m not responsible for a person’s death or their dying. I’m just here to listen, and perhaps help make one’s passage a little more meaningful." Linda works diligently at processing the suffering, and has learned to "center herself." Being a chaplain, you often don’t get to see the ending of a person’s life. You’re usually called in to get the process flowing, then you leave. "I read the obituary columns daily. When I read the name of a person I briefly worked with, I take a small votive candle, light it, reflect, and when the candle is through, so is the centering process through for me too." Chaplains say, not to look back too long, because tomorrow’s challenges are already here.  

One of the more moving stories Linda told was of the late night call from a hospital advising her of a "fetal demise case." She needed to come quickly to comfort a woman about to deliver a stillbirth--- a deceased baby. When she arrived, nurses hurried her into the delivery women to work with the women at the moment of both birth and death. The woman was Spanish speaking. The mother asked for a prayer, but Linda’s bilingual ability was very limited. Sensing the utter despair of this poor mother, and her own feeling of helplessness, Linda quietly called, once again, upon spirit divine. "Spirit, you’ve got to help me here. I can’t do this without you, I can’t do it alone. I give up, I’m in your hands now. Help me." Linda, animated and excited, as she tells this story to my enthralled students, continues, "and out of nowhere I really felt this sense I was no longer alone, that some kind of powerful spirit was present. I took two deep breaths and said a particular prayer in perfect Spanish. It was really beautiful. It was one of those tiny miracle situations. There was blood everywhere and I took the little dead infant in my hands from the doctors, with no gloves on, and held the child for the mother to see, to have some closure. It was a very powerful moment I will never forget." Nor an experience anyone in class would forget as well.  

Though you’ve got to be sturdy stock to be a chaplain, it is not all without some moments of humor. Leaning on the desk in front of my students Linda lights up with a big grin, and spoke about the case of "the unresponsive patient in room 316." A chaplain had been requested by family members to please come and pay a visit to a patient who was dying and fading rather quickly. The family was all gathered around. Everyone she met, from nurses to family members, kept reminding her that the patient was in a coma and unresponsive, as though she needed to be prepared to communicate with someone who was not able to communicate back. When she arrived, it was a familiar setting, uncomfortable, shuffling, nervous family members not knowing what to do or say. "You know he unresponsive," mentions a relative. "I understand," said our jack of all denominations chaplain. "I thought I’d set an example by sitting very close to him on his bed, so others would feel comfortable enough to come and sit by him too. In short order, that began to happen. There we are, all sitting close to the unresponsive patient. Then I slid my hand across his waist to reach his hand, which was way on the other side of his hospital bed. Gently, with his hand in my hand, both our hands resting upon his stomach, I began a prayer. So now here we are, all sitting on the bed praying. All of a sudden, and quite out of the blue, this "unresponsive patient" begins developing a most noticeable and raging erection. It was quite a moment! So much for the ‘unresponsive patient’ in room 316, I dare say." Linda Bacci, the "wild woman" chaplain, is one of the reasons life can be wonderful. We can all learn a lesson from the way that she embraces life and people in need.  

Try and remember all the volunteers who give selflessly, who are there, and will be there, perhaps when we too need them. Volunteer and don’t be afraid to assist others. Spirit Divine has a way of being there when we need that power most.  

[This article is by Dr. J. Davis Mannino and originally appeared in the community newspaper We The People. All Rights Reserved by the author.]