Left: Hayes (Photo courtesy of the Catholic Sun); Right: Tannyhill (photo courtesy of Kenyata Calloway)
It was 3 a.m. when the Rev. David Tannyhill got the call to action.
A 16-year-old youth had been shot and killed in a drug deal gone bad. Police had found his body, and an officer called Tannyhill with the familiar, grim summons. Tannyhill left his home for the hospital, minister’s collar on and bible in hand, to be available for the dead youth’s family in their time of loss.
“I’ve been up many times and don’t get back until 6 a.m.,” recalled Tannyhill. “I’m there until the job is done.”
Tannyhill, the pastor of Bell Grove Missionary Baptist Church, is one of three chaplains paid by the city to work with the police and fire departments. The other two are the Revs. Dan O’Hara of Immaculate Heart of Mary in Liverpool and Dennis Hayes of Saint Patrick’s Church in Otisco. Tannyhill and Hayes are chaplains for the police department. O’Hara is the chaplain for the fire department.
They are called to crime scenes, hospitals and fires. They pray for the dead and injured. They listen to the grieving and traumatized. They try to bring a sense of peace to lives and places scarred by violence.
Their work is one of the instances of overlap between government and religion. Chaplains serve with the military, in Congress and with other government entities.
In Syracuse, the three chaplains are authorized by city ordinances. They are chosen by the fire and police chiefs and serve under a contract with the city. The city pays the two police chaplains $5,000 each and the fire department’s chaplain $5,200.
It’s unclear when the city began contracting with local clergy as chaplains to the two departments. But it’s been at least 20 years, according to today’s chaplains.
At the fire department, the Rev. O’Hara of Immaculate Heart of Mary in Liverpool began ministering as its chaplain in 1994. A former fire chief was leaving his church one Sunday, recalled O’Hara, and asked him about serving.
He can’t estimate how much time he spends in his role as chaplain each year, O’Hara said. He does not submit reports of his hours, he said, and the need for his service varies each week.
Sometimes he counsels the firefighters. Often he counsels those whose homes or work has been struck by fire. Any serious injury or death is part of the job’s stresses.
The hardest part, O’Hara says: “Dealing with the death of a child.”
At the police department, the Rev. Hayes of Saint Patrick’s Church in Otisco has been a chaplain since at least 2003. He also works full time as human services director for the Onondaga County Sheriff’s Office. He has a master’s degree in counseling and has trained and traveled with the FBI’s trauma response teams.
Hayes describes his chaplaincy work as a “ministry of wandering around.” Each week, he attends two to three roll calls when shifts are changing. Just being present, he says, creates opportunities for the officers to approach him.
The role, he said, has two challenges: “To be accepted and continually positive with these men and women.”
Police officers, says Hayes, deal with many personal and professional challenges. When they go through divorce or their own family troubles or through a traumatic event on the job, Hayes says, his biggest contribution is bringing a sense of stability in an unstable time.
“It isn’t terribly religious,” said Hayes. “Sometimes it’s spiritual.”
Trauma and distress shape the human tragedies police see regularly on the job. Hayes recalled a pedestrian vehicle accident in which an infant died. The baby’s head had been crushed by the father’s truck.
The scene was gruesome, recalled Hayes. And the officers kept hosing and scrubbing the driveway long after the last trace of blood and brain matter had been cleared. Finally, Hayes told them: “It’s all gone. You’ve done a great job.”
Later, he took several out to a Denny’s to talk about how the child’s death had affected them.
Also at the police department, the Rev. Tannyhill of Bell Grove Missionary Baptist Church has worked as a chaplain since 2005. He works most closely, he said, with inner city residents and the police.
He was recruited as a police chaplain, said Tannyhill, by former Police Chief Gary Miguel, then a police officer in Syracuse and a member of Tannyhill’s congregation. The department, Tannyhill recalled, wanted someone who could build rapport between the force and inner city communities while serving as chaplain.
Tannyhill already had a track record of working with inner-city youngsters. He had moved here 11 years earlier from Ohio and started Project H.O.P.E., which stands for “Help Our People Excel.” The program helps at-risk children in the inner city. That brought him to the attention of the police department as a key player in the community.
As with the other chaplains, Tannyhill’s work with the police department knows no real schedule. Take, for example, the 3 a.m. call to minister to the family whose 16-year old son had been killed.
The family was frustrated and confused, Tannyhill recalled. The father brushed him off, angry at life, angry at the street culture that led his son to get mixed up with drugs, Tannyhill said. He prayed quietly for them and let the family grieve. Two hours later the boy’s father apologized and asked Tannyhill if he could do the funeral.
Two years later, he and the parents are still connected. “I still keep in touch with them,” Tannyhill says.
For Tannyhill, the 24/7 schedule of the police department is simply an extension of his work in the community as a pastor. “I don’t do the work I do because I want to be chaplain.” Tannyhill says. “I’m chaplain because I want to do the work I do.”
(Paul Brockwell is a graduate student in magazine, newspaper and online journalism.)
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