I walked into Commons early yesterday morning and saw blue-gray smears dotting the foreheads of a handful of my classmates. I'm embarrassed to admit that I was strangely surprised. Of course, I knew that it was Ash Wednesday. I knew that the beads and colored drinks from last night's Feb Club party were to celebrate Mardi Gras -- the last great celebration before the temperance of the Lenten season. But it still felt odd to see my classmates wear their religion so prominently on their foreheads. It was hard not to feel self-conscious on their behalf.
But I can't say that I didn't feel a little bit jealous, either. I've been an atheist since I was old enough to drive, and I don't find the stories in the Bible any more believable now than I did when I was 16. But atheists still miss out on a comfort provided by religion -- not necessarily in the beliefs per se, but in the ritual of it all.
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