School's Move Toward Inclusion Creates a Rift

Haley, 40, who works at the American Enterprise Institute as research director for former House speaker Newt Gingrich (R-Ga.), read of the cross's removal in a local newspaper not long after attending homecoming events on campus and took action.

"This is a school that calls itself the alma mater of the nation," Haley said. "The idea that you can take a cross out of the chapel at the alma mater of the nation means it can happen anywhere."

Of U.S. colleges, only Harvard University is older. William and Mary was chartered in 1693 to prepare young men as clergy and civil servants for the new colony. Thomas Jefferson was an alum. So is Robert M. Gates, the new defense secretary; he graduated in 1965.

Wren Chapel, built in 1732, is a focal point of the school. Smelling smoky from years of burning candles (and perhaps the fires that have ripped through the building) the 120-seat chapel forms a wing of the Sir Christopher Wren building, which the university says is the oldest college building in the United States.

Members of the college meet in the Wren building's courtyard every year to welcome incoming freshmen, and graduates pass through the building and ring the bell in the cupola at commencement. Induction ceremonies for the Phi Beta Kappa honor society -- which was founded at the college in 1776 -- are held in the chapel, and retiring professors deliver their final lectures there.

"It is the heart of the campus," said board of visitors rector Michael K. Powell, who is a former Federal Communications Commission chairman and a member of the Class of 1985. "It's also understandable why there's so much emotion. I can count a hundred friends who have been married in that chapel."

After the Sept. 11, 2001, terrorist attacks, the school closed the chapel to the public so the college community could gather there in private. As students from all faiths met there, however, some wondered whether the presence of the cross communicated a preference among the religions.

The cross, which was given to the school by Bruton Parish Episcopal Church, has been on display since the 1930s.

The campus community has been mostly supportive of Nichol's decision to limit its use.

A resolution to restore the cross was introduced in the student senate and overwhelmingly defeated. The board of visitors deferred to Nichol's judgment, and faculty have endorsed his decision. So has Campus Ministers United, an organization of Jewish and Christian clergy who serve as advisers to religious campus groups.

Last week, final exams were winding down, and the campus was nearly deserted. Only a few shellshocked test-takers remained.

Many shrugged off the controversy, saying the outside world seemed to care about it more than they did. But others said the removal of the cross has made for lively debates in the dorms and dining hall.

"It's part of the tradition of the rest of the school," said Connie Chung, 20, a junior from Philadelphia who is studying neuroscience.

To which her classmate Devin Mawdsley made a loud snoring sound.

"Tradition?" he scoffed.

Mawdsley, 19, a sophomore from Annandale who is majoring in international relations and Chinese, said there were more important concerns on campus.

"To take it down seems almost sacrilegious," Chung continued. She said the previous policy, in which people could ask to remove the cross, seemed to work fine.

W. Samuel Sadler, vice president for student affairs, said perhaps devout Christians feel sacrifice in removing the cross. But that is also part of the religion.

"As a Christian, that's not a sacrifice I'm unwilling to make so that other people can have the same opportunity to experience that room the same way I do," Sadler said.