“…and this is our Chapel. Hotchkiss is non-denominational, but we meet in here once a week. It’s such a beautiful space, one of the oldest on campus…” I say absent-mindedly two to three times a week to my tour groups, as if the room and its significance are lost on me.
One Saturday night, in September of my Prep year, I decided I would ride the shuttle to church that next morning. Having been raised and eventually confirmed a Presbyterian, going to church and Sunday school my entire childhood, I was disappointed to learn that there were no Presbyterian Churches nearby.
Nevertheless, I hopped on the mid bus that Sunday morning, where Mr. Fall promptly greeted me, “Good morning! Where are you going?” to which the only other student on the bus responded “Salisbury Congregational Church.” I had intended to go to the Episcopalian service, but Prep me did not have the wherewithal to voice that, so I followed Isaiah Stephens off the bus into SCC.
Sitting down with a student I did not know, in a pew of a church that was not my denomination, I figured I would leave this service and resign myself to simply going to Church on the weekends I went home. However, after the service, I wandered into the Coffee Hour, where Pastor John asked me all about the school.
After three consecutive Sundays at SCC, I began making church friends, such as Ms. Cathey, who runs the Church’s volunteering programs, and Mr. Charlie Noyes, a former Hotchkiss Art teacher, who made it a point to keep tabs on my Thirds Field Hockey career.
Sadly, after those first few Sundays, getting wrapped up in life at the school, I stopped prioritizing God, instead getting bogged down by brunch, laundry and work on Sundays. I went to church once every other month at best, until I had an epiphany this summer on my Hotchkiss in Andalucia trip.
As I looked up at the altar in Toledo’s cathedral, I realized how warped my priorities had become. I realized that I had grown away from God, getting wrapped up in Earthly things: grades, clothes, and drama occupied my mind more than my relationship to the Lord, which was a terrifying realization.
Many Hotchkiss students would classify themselves Christian: whether Catholic or Protestant, many students wear crosses and celebrate our holidays, without ever really practicing or engaging with their faith. However, reflecting on my trajectory of faith as I’ve been here, I realize how scary this “lukewarm Christianity” really is; how sidetracked and sad I get focusing on GPAs and SAT/ACT scores, gossip and drama, clothes and trends, often feeling surprisingly alone in such a lively, active place.
In one of my lowest moments at Hotchkiss, I sat on my bed, feeling utterly alone after having attempted to call five of my friends, none of whom were free to talk. In this state of dejection, I reached for the Bible that has sat on my nightstand all four years, but had not been opened on any recent occasion.
In that moment, late at night, in the trenches of my Upper Mid year, I turned to Jesus, to prayer, and to scripture, finding solace and peace in the reassurance of God’s love for me. I do not say this to try and convert anyone or to push my faith upon others, but to reveal and remind you of the friend you have in God.
So, each time I enter the Chapel, whether showing it to a family or taking my seat in the front row on a Monday morning, I gaze fondly at the small cross clutched in the beak of the bird above the curtain, a reminder, in a now-secular room at a non-religious school, to keep my faith and to always turn to God’s unconditional love when things are hard.
