"In some cases their faith is shaken by those experiences, and they lose that sense of stability in their life. But for others, they cling to their faith and belief in God and forgiveness and redemption."

Mark Allison listens intently as one chaplain-in-training details an encounter with a patient who is struggling with his past choices and how they will affect the future. "Is it our job to comfort all the time? Sometimes that honesty (about one's choices) is really what brings about the healing. There's this feeling of wanting to give him a panacea, but that's not real all the time.

"I tend to want to have something that I can give them, or something I can fix, but that's not really what I'm able to do."

He understands the frustration. As a chaplain who served a recent tour of duty in Afghanistan, Allison knows first-hand about the "Mr. Fix-it" urge among his trainees. And he knows it's unrealistic. That's part of what he helps students — most with as much life experience as he has — understand as coordinator of the VA's new chaplaincy training program.

There's more than just anxiety and a little fear as you try to help someone deal with life's greatest questions, especially in the face of circumstances that don't make logical sense or can't be changed. Sitting in a circle on a Tuesday morning, each student listens to the experiences of others as they practice the art of listening — without fidgeting, checking a watch or signaling discomfort.

Chaplains learn to put their feelings, their beliefs and their judgments on hold as they listen and respond in a way that puts the patient, the soldier or the family members of a loved one at the center of the conversation.

"You want to make sure they're talking more than you are," he tells them, explaining that as a spiritual leader, "you join them in their struggle. Being a chaplain is a ministry of presence," adding that what one brings to the table is not necessarily as important as the fact that the work is to join people in simply sitting there, even when it's uncomfortable.

"It's the art of competent compassion. You're learning to be active in loving people," Allison said, to nods from each member of the group.

Kevin Bond, who works as a chaplain with Hospice for Utah in Ogden, spends his days dealing with death and how to help people die in the most compassionate way possible. He's not immune from pain. But neither are his clients, he says.

At the end of life, most people see the world in real, visceral terms that chase away the mind games they may have played for years, accepting him into conversations that enter the realm of the sacred.

"I see myself often like one of the priests at the temple in the Old Testament. I'm covered with blood after walking with these people through their trials. But it's a vital work that someone has to do, and I'm honored to do it."

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E-mail: carrie@desnews.com