Today, we begin Lent with ashes on our foreheads—a reminder of our mortality and a call to return to God. The Gospel brings us Jesus’ teaching on a hillside. He urges his disciples to give alms, pray, and fast not for show, but in secret, where the Father sees. His words pierce through our pretense, calling us to a hidden holiness. As we enter these forty days, we are summoned to look beyond the fleeting and seek the One who conquers death. Lent is our journey from spiritual blindness to eternal vision, from ashes to Easter’s triumph.
Ash Wednesday confronts us with the reality of our end: “Dust you are, and to dust you shall return.” The prophet Joel asked the people to tear their hearts, not just garments. These ashes mark our fragility—our lives as brief as a breath—yet they also whisper of God’s nearness, calling us to let go of illusions and cling to the life that endures beyond the grave.
Jesus warns against seeking human praise in our giving. We, too, move through life distracted, forgetting how brief our time is. The world urges us to chase what is temporary—pleasures, possessions, fleeting moments—flaunting our deeds to mask our dust. Lent calls us to give quietly, not for applause, but for love. True wealth lies not in what we display, but in what we surrender to the Father, who alone outlasts our mortal span.
In prayer, Jesus bids us seek the secret place, not the spotlight. We, too, build fragile towers of self-reliance and control, ignoring that our days are numbered. Mortality humbles us, yet we resist, craving attention over stillness. Lent calls us to kneel, to let go, and to place our trust in the One who embraced our fragile humanity. Jesus shows us that true strength comes not from clinging to life, but from surrendering to the Father, who alone conquers death.
In fasting, he calls us to shun grim faces for hidden sacrifice. We, too, falter when suffering comes, when loss looms, when death feels near—chasing excess to numb our frailty. Yet Lent invites us to lift our eyes, to believe beyond the grave’s shadow. Faith is a decision to trust the God who breathes life into dust—even as it settles on our foreheads today. Fasting strips us bare, revealing our hunger for the eternal.
But we do not walk this Lenten road alone. These ashes unite us to Christ, who bore rejection yet walked toward the cross, and to the Church, a people journeying toward resurrection together. Every step we take away from pride and toward faith steadies us. These forty days are not an end—they lead us toward new life. So, let us begin with courage. Lent is not about perfect mourning—faltering does not doom us. It is about seeking God in the midst of our fleeting days, step by step. Jesus did not teach for acclaim; he went forth to redeem the world. We, too, can rise from these ashes, ready to embrace Easter’s light.
To help us on this journey, the Church offers three spiritual tools: prayer, fasting, and almsgiving. Let us pray by turning our hearts toward our Creator, listening for his voice amid the brevity of our days. Let us fast not just from food, but from pride, fear, and anything that dims God’s presence in our lives. Let us give—not only our material wealth, but also our love, kindness, and mercy to those who, like us, are dust yet deeply loved by God. Together, let us walk these forty days, trusting that beyond our ashes, Easter’s dawn is breaking.
Rev. Dr. Mathew Charthakuzhiyil