Hospital chaplains offer comfort and prayer

Dean Hokel starts off each morning walking the fluorescent halls of MacNeal Hospital in Berwyn, asking patients along the way one question: “What is your greatest concern today?”

The health care chaplain is not going door to door to spout or stump his religion but rather to help guide hospitalized patients through their own faith at a time when they may need it the most.

Mark Woolfington made it a part of his job as the priest of the Church of Highlands in La Grange to visit his parishioners in the hospital, until he suffered his own complication stemming from diabetes and found himself as the patient in a hospital gown and throw-away slippers. The life-changing event opened his eyes to the struggles of being ill and hospitalized. Six months later, he was wearing a jacket and tie every day to Adventist La Grange Memorial Hospital as a part-time chaplain.

 As representatives of God, Hokel and Woolfington, like most hospital chaplains, are at the beck and call of the emergency department, newly admitted patients, patients that are in the hospital for an extended length of stay and any patient that has requested their presence for the sole purpose of lending spiritual support, prayer and comfort during a medical crisis.

“A chaplain accompanies people through pain — expressed in tears, fear and anger,” said Hokel, a Brookfield resident. “And it’s an honor to be with patients as they go through their own spiritual journey.”

For more than 30 years, Hokel has been comforting people through what he describes as “interruptions.” The parishioner inquires about how patients and their family members dealing with the unanticipated crisis practice their faith so he can hone his guidance into ways that will be meaningful to them.

“Most people ask for a prayer and would like us to say the ‘Our Father’ together,” Hokel said.

After an initial chat and a prayer, Hokel often feels that a trust is established, which allows people to safely open up to him in ways that they may not be able to with friends and family. The father of two grown children is often amazed at the things people divulge, noting that a patient willing to vent can be both a blessing and a curse.

“Sometimes patients feel that they’ve said too much, in which case I may never see them again,” Hokel said.

Woolfington enjoys being the stranger in the room, as it can open the door to cathartic conversation. The La Grange resident recalls listening to a World War II veteran who was dying tell him things about his experience in the war that he had never been able to voice.

“He wanted to get it off his chest,” Woolfington said. “I felt honored to fill that role for him.”

Both chaplains feel like their job is a unique opportunity to heal in ways that often are overlooked. With each visit and prayer, the necessity of the job becomes apparent, as Hokel says he regularly bears witness to patients relaxing after they’ve met.

“I can even see a change in their breathing,” Hokel said.

Woolfington’s daily trek through the hospital halls have made it clear to him that his job has a specific healing function that eludes most medical doctors.

“Human beings are spiritual,” Woolfington said. “Society tends to ignore and downplay that. We readily address the physical and mental aspects, but chaplains are the only ones to provide spiritual support, and I’m glad to do it.”

But sometimes the services of a hospital chaplain are not always welcomed.
“It can be a mixed bag,” Hokel said. “Occasionally you get people who are angry at the church or who might be angry at God about their crisis.”

But for the most part, both Hokel and Woolfington connect with people in ways that make the lack of follow-up one of the hardest parts of their intervention.
For a hospital chaplain, dealing with death and suffering is as consistent as a hospital’s open hours: It never ends.

Supervising seminary students provides a welcome respite from the grief during Hokel’s 50-hour work week, and setting boundaries between his life outside the hospital and his patients allows him to cope and stay focused.

“I always have to remember that it’s not my pain,” Hokel said, as he recalled an inherent urge to call his daughter after comforting a family in the emergency room that had lost their daughter in a car accident. “Regardless of how close to my life it may be.”

Hokel also cites the positive results of his counsel as a part of his job that keeps his mind on living instead of dying. Encouraging family members of the departed to voice memories of their loved ones in order to process grief and let go of guilt is a way for Hokel to uplift someone in a time of disparity, which affords both Hokel and his client a better night’s sleep.

Woolfington takes advantage of the advisors in the pastoral care department at Adventist La Grange Memorial, who provide regular debriefing sessions to help the chaplains sort through their daily dealings of pain and death that might linger from the hospital into their homes. Woolfington also receives personal debriefing sessions in the comfort of his own home with his wife, a social worker.

Chaplains also provide their comforting services to the doctors and nurses on staff, who also are regularly besieged by death. Some of Woolfington’s most rewarding days have been supporting the nursing staff as they grieve the loss of a family member or a patient.

Both chaplains felt called by God to accompany people through the sometimes lonely and isolating hospital stays that are largely unexpected and frightening.

Twenty-five years ago, Hokel was sitting at the bed side of his parishioner who was dying of cancer, and she couldn’t remember her beliefs. It was in that moment that Hokel realized exactly what he was being called to do.

 “When people get ill, they develop amnesia about their faith,” Hokel said. “My task is to give it back when they can’t remember.”