The Pennington School, established as the Methodist Episcopal Male Seminary in 1838, has a long tradition of spirituality. Over the years, our students and their religious beliefs have diversified and, in turn, the School's Chapel services have also changed. Today, our students are multi-denominational, believing not only in Christianity, but also in Hinduism, Islam, Judaism, Quakerism, and Buddhism. How can all these faiths fit together? At Pennington, we believe that all beliefs are important and that every religion is to be valued. Weekly chapel services are a ritual in the Pennington community. Led by a Methodist chaplain in a Presbyterian church, Chapel services are a peaceful time for reflection and thought about life and love, friendship and community, right and wrong—themes that are important in every religion and in every country of the world. Together, students and faculty grapple with current events, historical truths, and hopes for the future. Whether through a poem or a song or a prayer or a question, all members of the School listen and think and learn from one another, and in so doing we become a community united together by common concerns, joys, and dreams. Students know that the school year is drawing to a close when Senior Chapel concludes the weekly services in June. This final gathering of the community allows the students, the faculty, and the administration to reflect on their time at Pennington and on the days ahead. It is a milestone for the seniors in their journey towards graduation and then life, where they will join new communities, carrying with them the lessons they have learned at Pennington.

A reading at Senior Chapel 2003: The Sound of Trees I wonder about the trees. Why do we wish to bear Forever the noise of these More than another noise So close to our dwelling place? We suffer them by the day Till we lose all measure of pace, And fixity in our joys, And acquire a listening air. They are that that talks of going But never gets away; And that talks no less for knowing, As it grows wiser and older, That now it means to stay. My feet tug at the floor And my head sways to my shoulder Sometimes when I watch trees sway, From the window or the door. I shall set forth for somewhere, I shall make the reckless choice Some day when they are in voice And tossing so as to scare The white clouds over them on. I shall have less to say, But I shall be gone. Robert Frost