The Journey of the Honest Heart: From Ashes to Easter

Voice over by Eliz

Joel 2:12-18, Psalm: 50, 2Cor 5:20–6,2, Mt 6:1-6.16-18

My dear Sisters and Brothers in Christ,

Today, we step across a sacred threshold. With the signing of ashes on our brows, we enter the solemn and beautiful season of Lent. This mark is not a badge of honor, but a stark, public confession. It is the Church’s honest diagnosis spoken onto our skin: Remember you are dust, and to dust you shall return. In a world that denies death and hides from weakness, we dare to speak the truth. But this truth is not an end; it is a beginning. These ashes are the starting line of a forty-day journey back to the heart of God, guided by the threefold path of prayer, fasting, and almsgiving.

The prophet Joel sets the tone with a trumpet blast of urgency: “Even now, says the Lord, return to me with your whole heart.” This is the core of Lent. It is a return. Notice the condition: with your whole heart. God does not want a sliver of our attention or a sliver of our sorrow. He wants the entirety of who we are. Joel calls for a fast, weeping, and mourning, but he immediately clarifies: “Rend your hearts, not your garments.” The ancient practice of tearing one’s clothes was an external sign of distress. God says the sign He desires is internal—a heart torn open by humility, cracked open to receive His mercy. This is a call to authenticity, a move from external show to interior conversion.

This divine appeal for reconciliation finds its New Testament urgency in Saint Paul. He proclaims, “We are ambassadors for Christ, as if God were appealing through us.” What is the appeal? “Be reconciled to God.” And then he gives the stunning reason for our Lenten urgency: “For our sake he made him to be sin who did not know sin, so that we might become the righteousness of God in him.” The journey we begin today is made possible only because Christ has already traveled the far greater distance—from heaven to earth, from glory to the Cross—to bridge the chasm our sin created. Lent is our conscious, grateful walking of that bridge back to Him. Paul shouts, “Behold, now is a very acceptable time; behold, now is the day of salvation.” This day, Ash Wednesday, is that “now.” This season is our acceptable time.

But how do we “rend our hearts”? How do we walk this path of reconciliation authentically, not as a performance? The Lord Jesus Himself gives us the clear, practical—and challenging—instruction in the Gospel. He takes the three classic pillars of Jewish piety—almsgiving, prayer, and fasting—and reorients them entirely toward the Father. “Take care not to perform righteous deeds in order that people may see them.” Do not sound a trumpet when you give alms. Do not pray on street corners to be seen. Do not look gloomy when you fast. Why? Because if human admiration is your reward, “you will have no recompense from your heavenly Father.” Instead, give, pray, and fast in secret. “And your Father who sees in secret will repay you.”

Jesus is cleansing our motivation. He is teaching us that Lent is not a forty-day campaign for spiritual compliments. It is a secret love story between our soul and God. It is about the quiet victory over a craving, the unseen patience with a difficult person, the anonymous gift, the heartfelt prayer uttered in the car or the kitchen. This is where the heart is truly rent open.

So, as we go forth marked with ashes, let us embrace this journey of the honest heart. Let our fasting create space for God and compassion for the hungry. Let our prayer be a true conversation, rending our hearts open in His presence. Let our almsgiving be a secret act of love, sharing from our need, not just our surplus.

Pope Francis reminds us, “Lent is a fitting time for self-denial; we would do well to ask ourselves what we can give up in order to help and enrich others by our own poverty.” This is the beautiful paradox: in acknowledging our poverty (ashes), and in freely choosing poverty (fasting, giving), we become rich in God.

The ashes will fade. But the conversion they signify can last forever. Let this Lent be a true return. Let us journey inward, toward the secret place where the Father sees, heals, and awaits us with a mercy that turns our dust into glory. Amen.

May God bless you all!