One of the most important rituals of the Christian religion is Easter Sunday (Christmas is just the most commercially important one). Leading up to this day is what Christians refer to as Lent. This is a period of forty days, not including Sundays, when an individual gives up something to symbolize the suffering of Jesus before his death, though modern day Lent usually doesn’t involve suffering to that extent. The first day of Lent is marked by Ash Wednesday, which happened to be last week. Colton Chapel held worship services on this day, and I went with a few other people to receive ashes. As I previously mentioned, I’m not a very religious person. I don’t attend church on a regular basis, but I do sometimes go for special holidays such as Easter or Christmas.
We sat waiting quietly for the service to start and there was a certain calmness permeating the chapel. Two candles were illuminated, one on each side of the stage, and people spoke only in soft whispers to one another. Once the priest came out, the service continued as usual with the singing of particular hymns and the reading of scriptures. Then the time came for each individual to receive his or her ashes. People filed out of the pews and formed two lines of procession. When I reached the priest, he dipped his thumb in the bowl of ashes he held and rubbed the dark substance onto my forehead in the shape of a cross. I walked back to my seat and knelt down. I suddenly realized that I was overcome with a sense of…something. It wasn’t quite happiness, but I felt content with myself and also very calm and at ease. I had not gone to an Ash Wednesday service for years and I forgot what it felt like to be part of something so important to Roman Catholics. I also felt connected to the people in the chapel. I may not have known every single person, but we were all there for the same reason, linked by our beliefs, and this was a comforting thought for me.