You may have noticed that tall, pointy stone building in the middle of campus, right behind the bus stop. It seems to be something of a phenomenon. Day after day, students and visitors gather around it for the perfect photo opportunity — some even bring an entire camera crew just to get this gorgeous monument in the background.
The Duke Chapel is clearly a big deal. I understood some of the hype: Its imposing scale, intricate stone carvings and majestic windows are stunning. But even with its beauty, I felt that there had to be more to it than just the architecture. Why was this chapel smack dab in the middle of a globally acclaimed academic institution? What was it built for? There had to be a story and significance beneath that aesthetic exterior.
So, one day, spurred by the spirit of exploration, I decided to find out. I pushed open the heavy wooden doors at the Chapel’s entrance and ventured inside. A kind gentleman offered to give me a tour, and as we walked through the building, I learned that the building’s intricacies ran deep. Every aspect of it was designed with careful intention, steeped in cultural tradition and filled with rich symbolism.
As we walked down the nave, the guide shared stories about the materials used in its construction. The pews weren’t made from any ordinary wood — they were crafted from the trees cleared to build the university, connecting those seated on them to the land Duke stands on and grounding the Chapel in both nature and tradition. Though the exterior stone was from a local quarry, blocks of the highest-quality limestone were imported from Bedford, Indiana, to construct the interior. One can quite literally feel the effect this has — run your hands across the intricate stone carvings inside the Chapel and you’ll be amazed by its flawless purity and smoothness. There even used to be a railroad line cutting right through what is now our main quad — James B. Duke had it built all the way to the Chapel’s doorstep solely to shuttle the stone for its construction.
I’d argue that the experience of the Chapel is even more beautiful with your eyes closed. After all, the building has a functional purpose — cultivating an environment conducive to worship, meditation and music. The high arches and carefully engineered stonework amplify sound in a way that makes each note resonate and linger, giving the music a rich and ethereal quality. I sing in the chapel choir, so trust me when I say the experience is like nothing else.
I couldn’t sit with my eyes shut all day, so I turned my attention to the gorgeous stained-glass windows. At first glance, they were visual delights, gleaming in the afternoon sunlight with their deep, mellow colors. My guide then explained the significance behind the aesthetics. The stained glass portrays over a hundred Bible stories, yet it also holds what my guide called Easter eggs — little hidden surprises that connect past to present. In the panel of “Adam and Eve,” for example, Adam holds a 20th-century shovel, reminding us of his role as a gardener in Eden. Then there’s the window depicting “Noah’s Ark,” which features unexpected “exotic” animals like a yellow turtle, a green iguana, and a brown monkey — animals one may not traditionally associate with the story. A careful observer might also spot something else unusual: the names of some of the glassworkers, embedded as tiny signatures in the glass.
It turns out this last detail was controversial. Religious stained glass is traditionally done “Deo Gloria” — for the glory of God alone — without crediting the artists. When the head designer, Owen Bonnawit, discovered that his workers had slipped in their names, he was livid. He fired them on the spot and burned all of their drafts. It wasn’t until decades later that a master’s student studied the glass and uncovered the hidden stories and meanings woven into each window.
My tour ended, but the impact of the experience lasted with me. The Chapel had been hiding in plain sight all this time. I glance at it every day, yet it took me this long to realize it was a treasure trove of art, culture, and tradition. This discovery got me thinking: What else am I missing? What other parts of this campus, or even my life, am I simply overlooking?
As college students, we’re so focused on the grind, so caught up in working through assignments and preparing for exams that we often ignore the rich surroundings calling for us to take a closer look. We talk about FOMO — a fear of missing out — albeit usually regarding social events or career opportunities. Standing on those chapel steps, I realized I was experiencing a different kind of FOMO — on history, knowledge and beauty that was right under my nose. I had work to get back to — readings, problem sets, midterms to study for. But I found myself wondering where our duties as students really lie. Is it in grinding through another assignment, or in exploring the world around us, digging into stories and legacies embedded in our environment?
It’s worth taking a break from the grind. Don’t worry about falling behind — I found that curiosity and inquisitiveness can actually serve our academic pursuits. What began as a detour became a cornerstone of my coursework — inspired by my chapel tour, I shot a documentary-interview of the Chapel’s stained glass for one of my courses. Not only did I gain practical skills through this project, but it also gave me the chance to have fun exploring something that fascinates me. We’re so indoctrinated in this culture of binge-writing an essay the night it’s due and then wiping it out of our memory the next day. This practice is a wasted opportunity. Coursework can always become something that resonates with you, rather than a token for a grade.
All it took was a single conversation with a tour guide that opened up an entire avenue of exploration, learning and even filmmaking. Being open to conversations and interactions with others will fundamentally change our academic journey. We’re not navigating this campus alone; we’re part of a community of knowledge, perspectives and stories begging to be shared. Make that effort to connect with those around you — talk to your professors, your classmates, all the people who make up this campus. And if you’re an introvert like me, don’t worry — there’s always a friendly extrovert, like my tour guide, ready to swoop in and spark a conversation that might just captivate you.
Arya Krishnan is a Trinity senior. His pieces typically run on alternate Fridays.
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