The Catholic Chapel of the Most Holy Trinity at West Point

Real Places Behind THE QUEST OF KIP SAUNDERS

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The Old Cadet Chapel was not the only place I went to pray at West Point. Most of the time, I went to the Catholic Chapel of the Most Holy Trinity.

Built in the Norman Gothic style, modeled after a church in England used by Carthusian monks, and consecrated in 1900, Most Holy Trinity is the sacred place where generations of Catholic cadets have attended Mass. Compared with some of the grand buildings at West Point, it is a modest chapel, seating no more than about 550 people.

The interior contains many of the familiar features of a Catholic church: a raised sanctuary, the tabernacle centered behind the altar, and a large crucifix suspended above it. To the left of the sanctuary stands a statue of the Madonna; to the right, St. Joseph. Twelve stained-glass windows filter the outside light, many depicting saints associated with soldiers and the military: St. Michael the Archangel, St. Joan of Arc, St. Maurice, patron saint of the infantry, and St. Barbara, patron saint of the artillery.

My parents sent my sister, my brother, and me to Catholic schools, and as a family we went to Mass every Sunday—even when we were away on vacation. We did not pray the rosary together regularly, but my mother encouraged us to pray it, and I did.

My father owned a 23-foot sailboat that we raced on Lake Pontchartrain. One stormy winter day, we were competing in the Sugar Bowl Regatta. My mother was something of a scaredy-cat when it came to gale-force winds and white-capped water, and at one particularly rough moment she called out, “Let’s pray the rosary that we survive this!”

We all joined her for the Hail Marys of the first decade.

After that, she was on her own.

My father started issuing orders to "trim the sails," “sit on the high side,” and “hard to lee.” Somehow, we survived the storm and won the race—and a trophy to boot.

My mother often relied on the Blessed Mother in times of turmoil.

I don’t think she raced with us very often after that regatta.

Readers of THE QUEST OF KIP SAUNDERS meet Kip’s mother early in the novel when he is preparing to leave his family and report for Reception Day at West Point in 1979. Before he goes, she gives him one last reminder:

“And don’t forget to say your prayers. Your faith is important.”

Like Kip, when I attended West Point, I sometimes went to Most Holy Trinity simply to pray. At other times, I would sit quietly in one of the oak pews and gather my thoughts while looking around the chapel—the sanctuary, the brilliant colors of the stained-glass windows, the larger-than-life crucifix above the altar.

I found peace there.

I also went to Mass every weekend—with one notable exception.

I slept through Mass on Easter Sunday of my yearling year.

For Catholics, missing Sunday Mass is a big no-no. Sleeping through Mass on Easter Sunday is an even bigger one.

Later that afternoon, I called my mother and father to wish them a Happy Easter. During the conversation, my mother asked what time I had gone to Mass.

There was no use lying to her. Even over the telephone, she would have known.

My silence gave me away.

“You didn’t go?” she asked.

“No. I slept in.”

“You’ll go tonight, then. Right?”

“Uh . . . there isn’t a Mass tonight.”

A very long silence followed.

Eventually, she said goodbye.

I knew what was coming.

Sure enough, within the next week I received a long letter from my mother—by certified mail, no less. It might even qualify as an epistle, something a pope would have been proud of. Its subject was the importance of attending Mass “every single Sunday” because, as she reminded me once again, “your faith is important.”

I still have the letter.

Looking back, I smile at the certified mail and my mother’s determination to make sure her nineteen-year-old son got the message. But I also understand those words differently now than I did then.

Faith was not something she wanted me simply to profess. She wanted me to hold on to it when I was away from home, making my own decisions and trying to figure out the man I wanted to be, the man God wanted me to be.

That struggle also found its way into THE QUEST OF KIP SAUNDERS. Kip’s faith does not give him easy answers, nor does it spare him from making mistakes. But it remains there, sometimes quietly in the background, as he searches for his way forward.

Whenever I think about Most Holy Trinity Chapel, I remember the peace I found sitting in those pews. And I can still hear my mother’s voice:

“Your faith is important.”