Clergy learning new ways to help the terminally ill

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SACRAMENTO, Calif. -- On a January afternoon, the Rev. Faith Moran lay dying in the Sacramento, Calif., home where her husband, Michael, had prepared the death experience she would have wanted.The couple had rented the hospice home five months before. The smell of burning candles filled the room.She was surrounded by items that she loved -- a Jewish prayer shawl, a quilt made for her by Muslim children, a prayer book from Brahma Kumaris nuns.As members of the clergy, the Morans saw patients from all faith traditions deal with death in nearly every way possible. Some planned every detail and their religious beliefs influenced their decisions -- from when to start pain medication to what they wanted said at their memorial. Most, however, did not.The Rev. Michael Moran applied what he learned over the years in the most intimate way.After five years of suffering from posterior cortical atrophy, an incurable form of progressive dementia, Faith lost consciousness and fell into the world between the living and dead.Her husband, with whom she co-founded the Spiritual Life Center in Sacramento, said his wife was "in transition."Preparing someone for their death is a role familiar to clergy. Many are now embracing a more organized approach.Churches regularly offer end-of-life planning, covering everything from living wills to where their religious beliefs stand on suffering. Pastors hand out brochures on care during private counseling sessions. They devote Sunday-morning sermons to the topic, even if it makes their members uncomfortable.But are people listening?"Those who are planners are listening," says Kathy Glasmire, associate director of Sacramento Healthcare Decisions. "But a lot of people don't want to think about it until they have to."At a recent Sacramento end-of-life seminar, faith leaders who've have had years of experience still had questions, and related that it's a different experience every time they walk into a patient's room."The first thing I do is try to gauge where they're at spiritually, emotionally, physically and proceed accordingly," says Pamela Boehle-Silva, parish nurse who attended the conference."I've had people ask, 'why me,' and want to know if God is punishing them," says Boehle-Silva. "On the flip side, I've seen people with a strong sense of God's presence. Both experiences are normal."Middle-aged and elderly people who are members of a congregation or who have some kind of religious affiliation are most likely to want a faith leader with them at their deathbed."One of the biggest findings in the past 15 years is the significant drop in the number of young people who do not have that comfortable lifelong affiliation," says Lucy Bregman, a religion professor at Temple University in Philadelphia who has written about death and spirituality."Nobody knows what's going to happen when these people get older and are more likely to need or want this kind of care. What are they going to do? Who are they going to call?"At the seminar, many faith leaders had different approaches but they all agreed on what matters most -- just being there."Sometimes you don't have to say anything," says Jackie Kortright, a Methodist pastor from Loomis, Calif. "A lot of times, they want some kind of spiritual presence."The Morans met in 1981 at church in Bellevue, Wash. and have rarely been apart since. When Faith was diagnosed, Michael had been strong -- both for her and for their congregation. But when the hospital bed was delivered to their hospice home, he broke down. They had never slept separately during their 25-year marriage.He drew strength from his beliefs and the community. His wife's impending death became an interfaith event -- leaders from across the region stopped to say goodbye to the petite woman who was beloved for her efforts to build bridges between religious traditions.The long illness had taken a toll on Michael. Before losing consciousness, Faith was in a lot of pain. He felt guilty, and didn't believe she should have suffered. "We believe in medicate and meditate," he says. "But she didn't want to miss out on seeing everybody."In an e-mail to a friend, Michael wrote that "Faith is experiencing her vision of peace, honor and respect."On Jan. 17, Faith died. The first six weeks after her death, Michael says, "were a nightmare." He slept on the couch.He has since moved out of the hospice home into the house he and Faith shared before her illness, and is back at work.Michael Moran believes the experience of caring for his wife while she was dying will make him a better pastor, one who will be more understanding when he is called on to minister to someone in their last days."This was a spiritual journey unlike any I've ever been on before," he said.E-mail Garza at jgarza(at)sacbee.com(Distributed by Scripps Howard News Service, www.scrippsnews.com.)