On a cold and dark March night during my first year at Princeton as assistant dean of the chapel, I left our little home on the edge of the campus to go back to my office. I had a lot of things to accomplish and imagined that the quiet and solitude of the office would be the best place to work. As I approached our office building, Murray-Dodge Hall, I was surprised to see that it was all lit up and I began to hear the sounds of a ruckus. I came through the door and into a lobby to the middle of an astonishing party, a celebration of some sort or another. People were in costume and had noisemakers. There was much cavorting. "Was this Mardi-Gras?" I wondered. "No, Shrove Tuesday had come and gone. What was going on?" I asked myself. "Had the group asked permission of the chapel office?" Work…