When alumnus and principal chapel benefactor William Gwynn Mather ’88 and architect Philip Frohman set out to build what is now Trinity College Chapel, they intended to erect “a building to love without reserve.” Loving without reserve might very well be an unofficial motto of the Chapel. In everything we do–from Sunday Supper to dialogue skill-building to art and music–we seek to open up the space within each of us that seeks connection, belonging, wonder, and love.
This past semester saw continued growth in our common life. Participation in Chapel service (in the Episcopal tradition) has increased, as has Roman Catholic Mass attendance. As part of our Sunday Chapel services, Teke Helms ’28 went through the rites of Christian Initiation on Sunday, November 3, making him the second student we have baptized this year following Amber Gray ’26 in April. Additionally, Imam Simsek, who joined our community as our director of Muslim Life, has increased attendance for Jumu’ah (Friday) prayers and provided additional opportunities for Muslim students to connect with their faith. At the same time, we have maintained Jewish student participation in our campus Hillel while searching for our next director of Hillel and Jewish Life.
The health of individual religious and spiritual communities on campus coincides with a growth in interfaith cooperation and dialogue. Building on the legacy of the Bishop Steven Charleston House for Interfaith Cooperation, our 12 Trinity College Interfaith Fellows have done incredible work to create opportunities for our community to come together and learn more about one another. Their dedication culminated in the Many Faiths, One Feast pre-Thanksgiving Dinner held in the Chapel on Wednesday, November 20. Additionally, we worked with dialogue consultant Alan Yarborough of Habits for Discourse to pilot a “Dialogue for Daily Life” program to help students build dialogue skills and other tools for relating across differences into their everyday lives.
While we celebrate all the success that we have had this semester, we must also note that our campus, like many others, still has work to do to build connections over disagreements. In an increasingly violent world with urgent needs for greater humanitarianism and justice, it is too easy to assume the worst in those who see the world or rank our shared values differently than we might. Still, our students continue pushing against simplistic and divisive narratives and toward a more complex, more human world.
All of this calls to mind the work of the Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr., who worked to build what we called the “Beloved Community.” The term comes from late 19th- and early 20th-century American philosopher Josiah Royce and was adapted by Dr. King as the vision for his nonviolent movement. For Dr. King, who spent and ultimately gave his life for social reform and renewal, the Beloved Community was an achievable human vision for relating to one another. Surprisingly, conflict is not absent from this vision. Conflict is part of being human in community with other humans. However, whereas we often settle our conflicts through violence and domination in word and deed, in the Beloved Community, conflicts are settled peacefully, through nonviolence, and toward reconciliation. According to the King Center, “All conflicts in The Beloved Community should end with reconciliation of adversaries cooperating together in a spirit of friendship and goodwill.”
One of my favorite pieces of sacred wisdom comes from one of the most prolific Hebrew prophets: Isaiah. In Isaiah 2:4, the prophet, sketching out a hopeful vision for the renewal of his beloved Judah and Jerusalem, writes:
In the days to come the mountain of the LORD’s house will be the highest of the mountains. It will be lifted above the hills; peoples will stream to it. Many nations will go and say, “Come, let’s go up to the LORD’s mountain, to the house of Jacob’s God so that he may teach us his ways and we may walk in God’s paths.” Instruction will come from Zion; the LORD’s word from Jerusalem. God will judge between the nations, and settle disputes of mighty nations. Then they will beat their swords into iron plows and their spears into pruning tools. Nation will not take up sword against nation; they will no longer learn how to make war.
Isaiah 2:2-4 is one of my favorite passages, not only because of its relentless and contagious optimism but because it makes something very clear: we must unlearn war and learn peace. It suggests that if we want a world of peace and plenty, we must unlearn the habits that have produced a world of violence and want. At its core, the work of the Chapel is unlearning and learning. It’s about celebrating the cultural and religious traditions that provide a solid, ethical framework to help us navigate life’s complexities. It’s about art and music that allows our minds and hearts to connect and open a space to reflect and notice the beauty within and without. It’s about reaching across a chasm of difference toward someone who speaks of love in a different language. It’s about responding to love’s call within each of us. What does the Tao say?
Empty your mind of all thoughts.
Let your heart be at peace.
Watch the turmoil of beings,
but contemplate their return.
Mather and Frohman imagined the Chapel to be the heart of the campus, and it is. Its permanence is in more than its stones. Its permanence is found in the ideals it represents: the quest of seeking the ultimate good, what I call God, together.
As we close one semester and prepare for the next, I am excited about what comes next and the incredible students who will walk through our doors and be forever changed by what they experience.
