Grace amid heartbreak: Chaplains called to provide comfort in times of tragedy, loss

Photo caption: Law enforcement chaplains respond to police calls at all times of the day and night. Father Steve Schwab, the Catholic chaplain for the Marion County Sheriff’s Department, discusses a suicide case with William Arnold, a Marion County deputy coroner.

By John Shaughnessy

(Listen to the reporter read this story)

The phone call came on a recent October night, asking Father Steve Schwab if he could deliver the devastating news to the two children about their mother.

Although it wasn’t his day of duty as a chaplain for the Marion County Sheriff’s Department, Father Schwab agreed to drive to the home of the two teenage girls in Indianapolis, to tell them that their mother had been killed in a traffic accident caused by a drunk driver.

As he always does when he has to share the most heartbreaking of news, Father Schwab put on his Roman collar. Then he arranged to meet a sheriff’s deputy near the home of the two girls, who had suffered the loss of their father to cancer within the past two years.

Driving to the home in the dark, Father Schwab remembered the words that have become his constant prayer when he has faced difficult situations as a police chaplain: “Lord, I don’t know what I’m doing. Help me get through this.”

When he knocked on the front door of the home—with the sheriff’s deputy at his side—Father Schwab braced himself. When one of the girls opened the door, the priest followed another one of his routines, making sure he had the right address and the right names of the people he needed to see.

He then asked the two girls to sit. Knowing that it’s best to deliver the news immediately, Father Schwab softly told the girls, “I’m sorry. Your mother died in an accident this afternoon.”

The girls’ shock came first, followed by their tears and cries of anguish. Through it all, the priest offered his support.

Grace amid tragedy

From traffic fatalities to murders, the police world is full of moments that most people never see and even more people never want to see.

In that world where the line between life and death can be razor-thin, chaplains of law enforcement departments are called upon to provide grace and comfort in times of tragedy and loss.

For three years, Father Schwab has served as the Catholic chaplain for the Marion County Sheriff’s Department.

For 15 years, Conventual Franciscan Father Joe Kiene has been the Catholic chaplain for the Indianapolis Police Department.

In their positions, both priests have helped victims, the families of victims, police officers, the families of police officers and even other chaplains deal with the devastation and the despair.

“You go from a traffic accident to a deliberate shooting to a suicide,” says Father Joe. “Primarily, our job is to notify the families of the deceased. It’s hard. It’s very difficult. You’re not sure what their reaction is going to be. It goes from acceptance to disbelief to anger. You try to help them work through their grief.”

“Basically, you just want to be present to these

people,” says Father Schwab, who is also the pastor of St. Thomas Aquinas Parish in Indianapolis. “Sometimes, you do it with small talk. Other times, it’s just being there and listening.

“You never know what you’re going to get into. I once tackled a woman who was busy throwing everything she had through every window in her house. We had to notify her in the middle of the night that her son had died. She was hysterical. I helped the sheriff restrain the woman so she wouldn’t destroy her house.”

He pauses.

“Every time I go out, I’m reminded that death is real, that life may be shorter than you think it is. You certainly remember these people in prayer. It’s hard not to when you’ve been a part of their grief.”

‘You can show them where God is’

At 69, Father Joe says his morning prayers at 3 a.m. Sometimes, he kneels to say his morning prayers after just getting home from responding to a murder, a

suicide or a traffic fatality.

“Nothing ever happens during the day,” he says. “Night calls are the big thing. It’s usually between 12 [midnight] and 3 [a.m.].”

Father Joe’s efforts as a police chaplain often

follow his demanding 50-hour workweek as the head chaplain for the Veterans Administration Hospital in Indianapolis. It is not unusual for him to go from praying for someone that doctors are trying to save in surgery to comforting people who have lost a loved one through a murder.

As the murder rate has climbed again this year in Indianapolis, Father Joe has been involved in notifying relatives of the murder victim in about 15 cases.

He also recalls the heartbreaking case that immediately followed a wedding reception at the Indianapolis Zoo in 2005. As they left the zoo grounds, the father and a friend of the bridegroom were killed when a drunk driver—who also had taken cocaine—plowed into their car.

“They called me that night because the father was Catholic,” Father Joe says. “I stayed with the family for three hours, in one of the common areas at the zoo. You try to work through their grief.”

The horror of those deaths reappears on the chaplain’s face.

“There’s a lot of stress in this work,” he says. “There’s the stress of, ‘Is something going to happen?’ There’s the stress of a sudden death and how people are going to react. There’s the stress of a murder. Suicide is a big stress, too. I have yet to go a suicide where I haven’t heard a family member say, ‘What could I have done to stop this?’

“The biggest stress for me is injuries or deaths to children. I don’t think anyone likes to see children hurt. They have so much to live for. About six or seven years ago, we had two children—one 4 and one 5—who found guns in their parents’ houses and they killed themselves playing with guns. That was upsetting.”

He has also counseled police officers and anointed a few who died in the line of duty.

Still, he finds moments of grace in his work as a chaplain.

“I see police officers who do things that help people in tough times. I see officers risking their lives to help people who are trapped in cars in accidents or whose cars go into the water. Many times a day, they’re doing things that are not their real job, but it helps a person a lot.”

Father Joe tries to do the same as a chaplain.

“We see terrible things happening, but we also see people moving toward God,” he says. “Maybe they haven’t had much faith, but you can show them where faith is. You can show them where God is supporting them through this tragedy.”

He recalls helping the

parents of a young man who died in a traffic accident.

“After working through some of their grief and praying with them, they knew the faith they had to have to move through this time of trial and sorrow.”

He shakes his head when he’s asked if he ever gets used to the tragedy he sees.

The day I get used to it is the day I quit,” Father Joe says. “You have to be able to empathize with the family or the survivor to be effective.”

Representing the faith

Father Schwab says his work as a police chaplain has taught him that “we all need a healthy exposure to the tragic side of life.” Besides reminding him how short life can be and how sudden death can be, he believes it has increased

his compassion and improved his ministry.

“It exposes me to dimensions of life that I’m really not exposed to all that much in the day-to-day life of the parish,” he says. “I suppose the bottom line is that you feel called to do it. I feel comfortable doing it, I like the people I work with, and I hope what I’m doing is bearing some fruit. We’re all trying to handle these tragic situations as best we can with the welfare of the

people involved in mind. ”

Sometimes, that means dealing with questions about how God could let a tragedy happen.

“Occasionally, those

questions come up,” Father Schwab says. “I’m not sure that’s the time to talk

theology. Sometimes, the best thing to say is that you don’t know all the answers to the questions.”

Amid the heartbreak, Father Schwab has a hope for the work he does as a police chaplain.

“I hope that people will see there was a representative of the Church who was

present, and that person was compassionate and allowed them the space they needed and helped them pray,” he says. “I’d like to hope that people would say, ‘I saw something of Jesus in this fellow.’ ” †