How do medical personnel who have been exposed to serious trauma sessions deal with the stress and anxiety? By talking to one another? Or by doing as many of the patients they care for do --- talking to chaplains?

In this article, the first of a series on chaplains in the San Pedro Region, The Tidings profiles the workday of a priest --- formerly a student at St. John's Seminary in Camarillo, now of the Archdiocese of Atlanta --- serving at a Veterans Affairs medical facility in Long Beach.

'Some kind of spiritual guide'
"How are you today?" Father Craig David asks a veteran who is lying on a bed in the Spinal Cord unit of the Veterans Affairs Long Beach Healthcare System. After a short conversation, the priest ministers the Eucharist to the veteran. (At the VA there are no "patients," only veterans.)

Father David is dressed in black with the collar, but not all veterans are familiar with the traditional outfit. Once, during his lunch break at the 250-bed hospital's cafeteria, a man --- intrigued by his looks --- asked him if he was "some kind of spiritual guide."

And that is the main reason why Father David --- Catholic chaplain since 2005 at the Long Beach facility --- never "wears casual" when on duty. He wants everyone to know he is there to take care of their spiritual needs.

"He is a nice guy," says Wanda R. Thornton, the VA Long Beach director's associate secretary. "He is very knowledgeable, a very good friend, always cheerful and dedicated."

Registered nurse Pegi Black calls him "open-minded and approachable. He's beyond fabulous, always listens to our patients." Father David, on the other hand, considers himself an introvert, although he is outgoing and friendly when interacting with veterans and staff.

A framed poster in his office proclaims, "Diversity is the one true thing that we all have in common. Celebrate it every day."

Smiling, he explains how people are always trying to fit him into a particular race or ethnicity. To some he looks like an African American; to others, he is a Brazilian, a Puerto Rican, Dominican, or even Indian. In reality, he is a native of Philadelphia --- of Egyptian descent.

Father David belongs to a "staunch Catholic" family that lived in a Catholic enclave right in front a convent in a lower middle class section of Philadelphia. His father owned a bar, which was the "hangout place for men and women." There he observed his father deal with all kinds of people.

He once dreamed of working at a United States embassy somewhere in the world, so he earned a bachelor's degree in International Relations and Latin American Studies. Then he worked for a few years for Kaiser Permanente in L.A., where he enjoyed his job.

But one day, as he was sitting in front of his desk, he started thinking, "There must be something better than this."

He tried to discern the voices and after work hours he decided to go to Mass. By the end of the liturgy he felt at peace. As he was leaving he bumped into an Uncle Sam WWII poster that read, "I need you." On a table right next to it were vocational application forms.

That was the last sign he needed. He applied to both the Archdiocese of Los Angeles and the Society of Jesus, and was admitted to St. John Seminary in Camarillo.

'If you need me there, I'll go'
In his third year of theology at St. John's, he was recruited to join the Archdiocese of Atlanta, where they were in dire need of priests who spoke Spanish. He was sent to Puerto Rico for his transitional deaconate (and to improve the street Spanish he had learned when living in the Dominican Republic during his teenage years). Then he returned to Atlanta, and was ordained in 1996.

He served at St. John Neumann as its first full-time Hispanic minister, then in several parishes in Georgia. Sent "on loan" to San Francisco for about a year as a parish priest, he also served in Santa Maria, and then returned to Atlanta as a supply priest filling in for other parish priests, especially to celebrate Mass in Spanish.

Finally, he applied for a chaplain position at the VA hospital in Miami. Once cleared to work there, the Atlanta Archdiocese decided to send him to Long Beach because of his familiarity with this area.

"I go by the Jesuit mantra that says 'If you need me there, I'll go,'" he says with a smile.

After a brief adjustment period to being a federal employee placed on loan to the Washington, D.C.-based Archdiocese for Military Services, Father David now works alongside Protestants and representatives of other religions. Once he steps inside the VA facility, he belongs to the Military Services Archdiocese; he also serves in the Diocese of Orange, where he resides.

But his main focus is the Catholic veterans at VA Long Beach. (He can and does minister to people from other religions, or refers them to the other chaplains.)

Every morning at 7, he goes over two lists he receives daily. One list shows the newly arrived in the hospital; the second includes all the Roman Catholics.

Father David then tries to learn about which (if any) church the veterans belong to, and get their consent for chaplain's visits. Federal regulations prohibit anyone from just walking into a room and discussing religious matters. If the veterans do not want visits, by law the chaplain cannot contact them.

Most of his visits last only 15 minutes, but sometimes extend to 45 minutes or an hour. He holds a short informal conversation, then offers the Eucharist to those who want it.

'I know how to let it go'
After celebrating the daily noon Mass (televised in-house) and a brief lunch break, Father David visits the Spinal Cord unit, the Community Life Center (or nursing home) and the hospice unit. As he goes floor to floor, he makes sure to make connect with staff, nurses and physicians, as well as the veterans.

On Tuesdays and Saturdays he receives support from Religious Sister of Charity Mary Murphy, who administers the Eucharist to veterans at the hospice and the Spinal Cord units.

And on the first Sunday of every other month, they host an interdenominational memorial service for all the people in the hospital.

After 13 pastoral assignments in 12 years, Father David has learned to deal with different personalities and to cope with emotions.

"Once I leave the compound, everything that happens here doesn't exist anymore," he comments. "Once I start the car it's all gone. I know how to let go. I have learned to avoid connecting the suffering with the smells in the hospital."

And although he is considered a federal employee, he is very clear about what he does, and why.

"You're a chaplain because you have spirituality," he says firmly. "It's a vocation, not a job."