Ash Wednesday gently disrupts the stories we tell ourselves, and each other, about what matters.
In a world that rewards strength, productivity, and constant motion, we begin Lent by marking our foreheads with ashes and saying out loud that we are dust. It is an unusual public act of humility. It levels us. No titles, no achievements, no status symbols survive the ashes.
And socially, that matters. Ash Wednesday reminds us that human worth does not come from power, wealth, or notoriety. The mark of ashes quietly insists that every life carries the same dignity and the same fragility.
This holy season of intensified prayer, fasting, and almsgiving interrupts our culture of speed and consumption. It invites us to slow down and notice where our habits, both personal and collective, may be harming ourselves, others, or even the earth.
On this first day of Lent, we recall Jesus spending 40 days and 40 nights in prayer in the desert. It wasn’t accidental. It wasn’t a detour. It was intentional. He was retracing his ancestors’ steps, returning to the place where they first learned to depend fully and completely on God.
Lent is our annual invitation to step away with Jesus, even if only for a few moments each day, to remember who we are at our core before the busyness and priorities of life begin to shape us. We might spend a few minutes in quiet prayer, honestly noticing what occupies our hearts, or offer a small act of kindness by reaching out to a neighbour in need.
In a world that prizes perpetual productivity, pausing, noticing, and choosing intentionally becomes a quiet but powerful act. These small, faithful practices of prayer, fasting, and almsgiving reshape us from within, gradually forming us into the kind of story the world needs right now.
