They are present at the beginning and the end—at convocation and Commencement, at christenings and memorials. And for Joanne Sanders and Stanford’s two other chaplains, the job provides a unique opportunity to help students find a spiritual home. Sanders, 45, has been at Stanford since autumn 2000, shortly after she was ordained as an Episcopal priest.
It’s about connection, not conversion.
When Sanders and her colleagues counsel students, their goal is to listen. “The college years are certainly a time of major transformation in life, looking at the questions: Who am I? What is the purpose of life?” Sanders says. Students may be questioning the religious tradition in which they were raised. Sanders is quick to say that her goal is to help students find a spiritual center and ritual to guide their lives, but not necessarily in her own church. She has counseled students who, in the end, have converted to and away from Christianity.
She’s made her own faith journey.
As a little girl, Sanders used to play Mass with her two older brothers in the basement of their Buffalo, N.Y., home. Occasionally the boys let Sanders serve as altar boy, but she was never allowed to be the priest. Over time she tried out other Christian denominations but was not involved with a specific church when, in 1994, her partner, Kathy Armstrong, noticed an Episcopal church while out on a bike ride in Menlo Park. The couple attended a service the next week. Sanders found it transformative to see a woman performing a liturgy similar to that of her Roman Catholic youth. A few years later, the college admissions officer and tennis coach headed off to seminary. “Of course, it’s always because you want to get back at your brothers,” she jokes.
Today’s students believe in God.
Sanders points to recent surveys that show religious life is not dead. Today’s undergraduates are more likely to say, “I am spiritual, but not religious,” but they are still searching for meaning just as generations before them have, she says.
She’s seen her share of white dresses.
In five years, Sanders has guided nearly 100 couples to the altar at Memorial Church. In sessions before their vows, Sanders asks each couple to talk about what the commitment means to them. “I speak about marriage as something very sacred,” she says.
Breaking news can change your day.
On September 11, 2001, Sanders woke to the news of terrorist attacks in New York and Washington, D.C. By 10 a.m., she and the other chaplains were leading a prayer service for 900 people in Memorial Church. Later that week, they gathered with 2,000 people for a service on the Quad. For Sanders, one lesson of that time was the need for more education and awareness about all religions. “That doesn’t mean I am no longer rooted in my Christian tradition,” Sanders says. “I love the Episcopal liturgy, but dialogue gives you a sense of deepening in your own religious tradition.” From her office in Old Union, Sanders can see Muslim students walking to their prayer space. Watching that ritual makes her think more about her own prayer life, she says.
Diversity brings freedom—and conflict.
Working outside of a traditional congregation means Sanders can be a bit radical. Her Sunday services, which draw 200 to 250 each week, use inclusive language: God isn’t “the Father,” but “Holy One” or “Source of Life.” Her take on the Bible—that it is not to be taken literally, but has a role as a historical and devotional document—sometimes surprises people. Some, more fundamentalist, students “probably don’t really think I am a Christian,” Sanders acknowledges, laughing. Her goal: respectful conversation.
