Ash Wednesday: Marked by Ashes, Called to Listen
Today, with Ash Wednesday, we begin the season of Lent in the life of the Church.
We have just completed our journey through the season after Epiphany–a season centered on revelation: on the revealing of who Jesus is, who God is, and, by extension, who we are.
Epiphany is a season of light, of clarity, of unveiling.
And so now, we enter Lent.
Lent leads us into the wilderness—It’s a quieter, more stripped-down place—where God meets us not in spectacle, but in honesty. It is a place of encounter meant to shape us and
transform us into who we are called to be.
In that sense, Lent is also a season of revelation. But this revelation happens in the wilderness, where we come face to face with ourselves: with our mortality, our limits, and our brokenness. The ashes that we will soon receive tell the truth about who we are—not to shame us, but to ground us.
During this season, we return to what was revealed to us in Epiphany and allow it to take root more deeply. In the wilderness, we come to know God more fully, and we come to know ourselves more honestly. And it is important to remember: God comes to us in the wilderness.
Just this past Sunday, in the reading of the Transfiguration, we heard God’s voice from the cloud say, “Listen to him.”
“Listen to him.”
That same call follows us into Lent.
In the wilderness, we are invited to listen—to listen in order to know God more deeply,
and to know ourselves more honestly. We listen so that we might discern our calling,
just as Jesus entered the wilderness to come to terms with his own. The wilderness has a way of revealing the gap between where we are and where we are meant to be.
Lent gives us space to notice that gap—not to panic about it or rush to fix it—but to sit with it, to pray with it, and to ask what God might be doing there. But the wilderness is not always comfortable. It can be difficult to find time for it. Our lives are busy, noisy,
crowded with obligations and distractions.
And Lent itself also raises honest questions: Where is this transformation leading? What does God actually desire from us?
In today’s Gospel, we hear what might sound like mixed messages.
Lent is a season that invites us to look inward, yet Jesus warns us against practicing our faith simply to be seen.
Prayer, fasting, generosity—these are not performances. They are meant to draw us into deeper relationship with God, because, as Jesus reminds us, where our treasure is, there our heart will be also.
So what does God want from us? What kind of fasting, what kind of practice, belongs in the wilderness of Lent?
The prophets help us to understand. Isaiah tells us that the fast that God desires loosens the bonds of injustice, frees the oppressed, feeds the hungry, welcomes the homeless, and clothes the naked. Micah echoes this truth simply and clearly as well: we are to do justice, love kindness, and walk humbly with our God.
At the heart of Lent, then, is not empty religious practice, but a life shaped by justice, Kindness, and humility—lived in relationship with God.
And how do we begin?
I think we begin by spending time with God.
Through scripture. Through prayer. Through silence–perhaps with practices like centering prayer—allowing God to feed us, to speak to us, to shape us as the Word is opened and
God’s presence becomes real among us.
We might also take on a justice practice grounded in kindness. We can learn about the lives of those we too easily overlook: the homeless, immigrants, the elderly, the isolated—those whose lives rarely intersect with our own. We can ask what matters to them, what challenges they face, and then allow that listening to change how we live.
As we listen—to God, to one another, to the world—we can begin to rediscover our connection: to God, to creation, and to each other. We can remember that we belong to one another, that we are one body, gifted differently but bound together in love. And in that listening, we can come to know who we are meant to be.
Over time, we may even begin to crave these moments of stillness—to treasure the space to listen, to be present, to simply rest in God.
So, use this Lent as a time to listen in the wilderness.
Make yourself available.
Be open to God.
Be open to stillness.
Be open to presence.
Let it reveal to you who you are called to be…
Because there is much to hear in the wilderness—
if we are willing to listen.