“There's something quite appealing in the simplicity!” This was my mother's comment upon seeing an image of the old Evans Chapel at the University of Denver. Such a statement is quite true. The chapel is simple, classic, and not extravagantly adorned. Yet it still has that something. You know, something, not really an explainable feeling, but a special something that just gives you a comfortable, homey feeling. Like the building is welcoming and inviting you, a place one can be calm and at peace, not worrying about whatever there is to worry about. The chapel is like that, sweet, simple, and inviting to all.
Speaking of tradition with its quaint and unpretentious sophistication, Evans Chapel invites one to slow down and feel calm and at peace with the world. Its classic appearance hints towards a rich history, but it does more than just hint. Evans Chapel actually has a very interesting and unique history. Built in the 1870's, Evans Chapel is the oldest Protestant church in Denver. The University of Denver founder, John Evans, had it constructed in honor of his daughter, Josephine. She was ill with consumption and passed away in 1868. Originally named the Evans Memorial Chapel of Grace Methodist church, it was not originally on the University of Denver campus, instead it was situated in downtown Denver. The small church was moved, brick by brick, to the University of Denver campus in 1959, saving it from demolition (Fisher).
The chapel emanates rich history and tradition. Its personality of invitation and calmness through its classically simple and yet stunningly beautiful architecture is continued inside. Walking into
the empty chapel, one's footsteps echo against the hard floors and around the small pew-filled room. Serene and quiet, the usually dimmed lights speak of confidentiality and invite meditation and contemplation. This is a place to sit, wonder, pray, meditate, and be. There is a sort of presence there, a holiness, a reverence. When one enters the chapel alone, it asks for peace, tranquility, and quiet. The room whispers that this is a place to be silent. To take a seat on the cool, white, wooden pews, close one's eyes, and take a few moments from the chaotic storm of life to be still.
Back in early September, on a warm, breezy fall day, my parents and I took a seat in the chapel. Our last moments together, I was preparing to embark on my “great college adventure.” About to leave me on my own, my parents and I spent our last moments and said our farewells at Evans Chapel. Quietly we opened the large, wooden doors and made our way into the silent church. It felt big and empty, and yet at the same time small and homely. Making our way towards the front of the empty room, we walked up the aisle and sat in the second pew on the left. Still, silent, serene, the chapel gave us a place of solidarity and softly invited us to speak, or remain silent. It told us we could trust it, speak whatever words we wished, and it would keep any secrets we might have. Bowing our heads and holding hands my parents softly prayed for me, my year, and the next step of life's journey I was about to take. The chapel's friendly, inviting calm and my parents' quiet voices created a moment of peace, stillness, and love I will not forget.
But the chapel does not only speak of quiet stillness. Its personality can change with its inhabitants, lighting, and sounds. When the lights are up, the conversation lively, the mood changes. At Cru (the nickname for Campus Crusade for Christ), the room takes on a more energetic and outgoing mood. The intricately designed light fixtures glow brightly, a medley of excited chatter and conversation fills the small room. Energy bounces off the white walls, between the spectacular stained-glass windows, and around the high ceiling and its beautifully and simply carved rafters. The music plays, worship time...lights are dimmed, voices raised. The room is still full of an energy, but of a
different kind. The request for reverence that the quiet room begged is infused with the vibrance and excitement of the bright lights and energetic people. A new sort of peace is formed, the peace that comes from being surrounded by those you love, singing songs that tug at hearts and evoke emotions. The room fills with the sound of passion and praise.
With changing moods and quiet invitations, the chapel is like an old friend. Its old and classic structure is built with a simple beauty. The intricate stained-glass windows, carved rafters, simple wooden pews, and red brick exterior are not extravagant, but are no less lovely. The interior can whisper of stillness, reverence, and peace. It begs for meditation and quiet reflection or prayer. With changes of light and company, its mood can change, becoming energetic and vibrant, resonating with energy and friendly excitement. Its long and rich history tell tales, reminding us that it is an old friend. It is a friend who has seen and heard much, and eagerly awaits and invites others to come and think, pray, or sing, a haven to all who step through its thick wooden doors.
Fisher, Seve. "A Building with a Heart." University of Denver Blogs. University Archivists, Spring 2005. Web. 14 Apr. 2011.
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