Reflection for March 06, 2025

Ash Wednesday (C)

Joel 2:12-18 | Psalm 51:3-4, 5-6, 12-13, 14, 17 | 2 Corinthians 5:20—6:2 | Matthew 6:1-6, 16-18

Today is Ash Wednesday, marking the start of our 40-day journey of preparation for the Lord’s Resurrection. During this season, we set aside the singing of Glory to God in the Highest and “bury” the Alleluia. Floral decorations are put away, and we now use violet, the color of penance. Soon, we’ll be walking around with dark smudges on our foreheads—ashes blessed and mixed with either holy oil or water, then traced in the shape of a cross. As the minister imposes the ashes, they will say either, “Remember, man, that you are dust, and unto dust you shall return” (Gen 3:19) or “Turn away from sin and be faithful to the Gospel” (Mark 1:15). No matter which words are spoken, the message is clear: "Alalahanin mo, mamamatay ka rin!" (Remember, you will die.) It’s a stark reminder of our mortality and our calling to live meaningfully. Life is short, so we must live it well. Since ancient times, people have used ashes as a sign of fasting, prayer, repentance, and remorse. This practice was common in early Judaism, as seen in 2 Samuel 13:19, Esther 4:1-3, Job 42:6, and Jeremiah 6:26. In the Church, ashes are sacramentals—outward signs of our brokenness and our willingness to turn back to God. By receiving them, we acknowledge our need for conversion and renewal

A man suffers a heart attack and is rushed to the emergency room. The doctor tells him, “You need a heart transplant immediately, or you won’t survive.” Just then, another doctor rushes in and says, “You’re in luck! We have two hearts available—you get to choose. One belonged to a priest, and the other to a politician.” Without hesitation, the man says, “I’ll take the politician’s heart.” The doctor, surprised, asks, “Don’t you want to know more about them first?” The man shakes his head and replies, “No need! Everyone knows the priest’s heart is always bleeding, and the politician’s was probably never used, so I'll take the politician's heart!”

In our first reading, the prophet Joel delivers a powerful challenge to God’s people, who have strayed like prodigal sons and daughters. He calls them to weep, mourn, and fast to turn away from disaster. But what truly strikes me are his words: “Rend your hearts, not your garments.” In ancient Hebrew tradition, tearing one’s clothes was a dramatic way to express deep sorrow, fear, or horror. But Joel isn’t asking for a display of emotions—he’s asking for something much deeper. He’s pleading for genuine repentance, a real transformation of the heart. Outward signs like tearing garments or changing clothes may look impressive, but they can easily be empty gestures. True repentance, however, is much harder. Joel’s message is just as relevant today as it was then. God has always wanted one thing above all—our hearts. And He isn’t waiting for us to make the first move. He’s already reaching out, calling us to return to His merciful and loving embrace. The question is: Will we answer?

One quiet afternoon, as the sun bathed the old church in Perez Dasmariñas, young Paulo sat beside Fr. Maximo in the sacristy, polishing the brass candlesticks. As he worked, he looked up and asked, "Father, when are you going to die?" Fr. Maximo nearly dropped the chalice he was holding. "Excuse me?" he said, raising an eyebrow. "When are you going to die?" Paulo repeated, completely serious. Fr. Maximo chuckled. "Well, that’s a cheerful question. Why do you want to know?" "Because you’re old," Paulo said matter-of-factly. Fr. Maximo gasped, clutching his chest dramatically. "Old? I’m only 57!" "Exactly," Paulo nodded. "You could go at any time." Fr. Maximo sighed and shook his head. "Paulo, nobody knows when they’re going to die." Paulo squinted at him. "So… you could die right now?" "Theoretically, yes," Fr. Maximo admitted. "Or tomorrow?" "Also possible." "Or next week?" "Paulo." "But what if—" "Paulo!" Fr. Maximo held up a hand. "That’s precisely the point. Nobody knows when they’re going to die. That’s why we have to repent every day until that time comes. Live every day as if it's your last." Paulo frowned. "But what if it isn’t?" Fr. Maximo sighed. "Then at least you’ll be ready when it is." Paulo sat in thoughtful silence for a moment, then nodded. "So… you better start repenting now, Father. Just in case." Fr. Maximo groaned. "Paulo, you are single-handedly raising my blood pressure." Paulo grinned. "See? It could be sooner than you think."

In the second reading, the Apostle Paul, in his second letter to the Corinthians, encourages us to be reconciled and accept God's forgiveness in Christ now. There is no time like the present. Now is the right time to return to God and to turn to the people around us. Who can be sure that they will have more time to "play games" with God? Death could come at any time and so could the Lord's return. Quoting Isaiah 49:8, he urges us to respond faithfully to God's grace, now, at this very moment, before the Lord returns. Delaying repentance robs us of precious time here on earth to be all that we can be for the glory of God and be a blessing to the body of Christ. 

"What are you giving up for Lent?" One evening, as Fr. Ramon de Ijada was walking home through a quiet street in Quiapo, a young man named Richard suddenly appeared behind him and pressed a knife against his back. "Give me your money," Richard demanded. Fr. Ramon, trying to stay calm, opened his jacket and reached for his wallet, accidentally revealing his clerical collar. Richard immediately stepped back. "Oh, I’m sorry, Father! I didn’t realize you were a priest. I don’t want your money." Still shaken, Fr. Ramon took a deep breath, then pulled a cigarette from his pocket and offered it to Richard. "Here, have a smoke," he said, trying to lighten the mood. Richard shook his head. "Oh no, Father, I can’t. I gave that vice up for Lent as my penance."

Our Gospel today reminds us that the acts of piety we practice during Lent—almsgiving, prayer, and fasting—must be done with sincerity and humility. Jesus cautions against performing these deeds for public recognition, emphasizing that they should flow from a genuine love for God and our neighbors. Almsgiving should not be about seeking praise but about selflessly helping those in need. Prayer must be an intimate conversation with God, not a performance for others. Fasting should be a quiet discipline that strengthens our dependence on God rather than a means to impress people. These spiritual practices also help us overcome selfish desires, detach from material things, and grow in humility. However, they hold no real value unless they come from a heart truly seeking conversion. This Lenten season, let us embrace these acts of devotion not for show, but as a sincere offering to God in love and repentance.

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