At vespers on Sunday, a student—a freshman student—joined Jess and I and the Dean for our lectio divina service. Although Jess and I knew that she was interested in vespers—she had tried to come last week but accidentally found herself in the middle of Catholic mass—we were still thrilled to see her. We tried to play it cool, not wanting to scare her off, and were encouraged when she said she would try to return this coming week for dinner church.
As I celebrated the fact that someone who had never worked at the chapel before had come to a vespers service, I also thought back to what it was like for me as a freshman, plopped down in the middle of a strange campus, three thousand miles from home, where I didn’t know anyone, and where I had decided to spend the next four years. I arrived on campus on Wednesday for orientation in which I was bombarded by faces and email addresses and information that slipped out of my head as quickly as it came in. It was a whirlwind of trying to absorb information and unpacking suitcases and figuring out what was happening and meeting roommates. On Saturday, my parents and my brother said goodbye and there was a surreal sense of finality as they left me in my dorm room. Although I was excited and ready for a new adventure to begin, I also wondered if I would be able to make it the 112 days before I would see them again.
On Sunday, still feeling a little lost, I made my way to the chapel. Slipping into one of the wooden pews in the third row I looked around the unfamiliar space, feeling conspicuous and out of place and far from home. When the choir began to sing, I listened in awe, transfixed by the pealing of the voices reverberating against the thick stone walls. But it wasn’t until the first hymn began that I felt an uncoiling in the pit of my stomach and all the uncertainty and worry and out-of-placeness drained away. I felt my body relax into the pew and I absorbed the sounds and words and spirit of the morning. When we spoke together in the collect, I again felt a welling up of belonging deep inside my soul. The words were simple and I wouldn’t be able to tell you what they said but it was a familiar ritual and allowed me to release my worries and doubts to God. Even though I had only been in the city for five days and I still didn’t really know anyone, in the singing of familiar hymns and the collective offering of prayers, surrounded by a community of faith, I was home.
I think this is part of why I was so excited on Sunday to see another undergraduate student who was just being introduced to the chapel. For me, the chapel has been a place of solace and comfort, it has challenged, uplifted, and enlightened me, it has nourished me weekly both physically and spiritually, it has been my community and my family. Just as the chapel is located at the heart of campus, it has been the heart of my time here and I pray that it can be such a place for others. I know that this student may find her community elsewhere on campus, but I’m so glad that she found us and that we have the opportunity to be that community for her, the place where she can sink into the wood of the pews and know that she’s home.