Ash Wednesday (A)

Joel 2:12-18; 2 Cor 5:20-6:2; Mt 6:1-6, 16-18

On a cold winter morning, a young executive stood in front of the mirror adjusting his expensive suit. His calendar was full, his phone constantly buzzing, his life seemingly successful. That same evening, he received a call that his father had suddenly passed away. Standing at the cremation ground, watching ashes return to ashes, he whispered through tears, “All this running… for what?” That moment shattered his illusion of control and permanence. Ash Wednesday begins exactly there—at that honest moment when human pride collapses and truth stands bare before us.

Ash Wednesday confronts us with a reality we often avoid: “Remember that you are dust, and to dust you shall return.” These words are not meant to frighten us but to free us. In the Bible, ashes symbolize humility, repentance, and dependence on God. When Jonah preached

6th Sunday in Ordinary Time (A)

 Sir. 15:15-20; 1 Cor. 2:6-10; Mt. 5:17-37

A wise old story from the East tells of a king who placed two paths before his people. One was wide, smooth, and well-lit; the other narrow and steep. At the entrance of both paths stood a sign: “You are free to choose.” Many took the easy road. But those who chose the harder path discovered that it led to peace, wisdom, and life.

Today’s first reading from Sirach reminds us: “If you choose, you can keep the commandments.” God does not force holiness on us. He invites us to choose life. In the Gospel, Jesus tells us that mere external obedience is not enough. What God desires is a righteousness of the heart, deeper than rules, deeper than appearances—“Unless your righteousness exceeds that of the scribes and Pharisees…”

Jesus begins with a command everyone agrees with: “You shall not murder.” Most of us can say with confidence, “I have never killed anyone.” But Jesus goes further: anger, insults, and contempt are also seeds of destruction.

5th Sunday in Ordinary Time (A)

 Is. 58:6-10; 1 Cor. 2:1-5; Mt. 5:13-16

From the earliest days of human history, light has held a sacred place in our traditions, stories, and collective memory. Ancient peoples gathered around fire not only for warmth but for safety, for community, and for hope against the darkness of night. In many cultures, a lamp was lit at sunset as a sign that life continues, that the home is alive, and that strangers might find welcome. Even today, festivals across religions revolve around light: lamps lit during Diwali, candles during Hanukkah, the Paschal candle at Easter, and simple oil lamps glowing before household shrines. Light has always meant more than visibility; it has meant guidance, truth, protection, and life itself. It is from within this deep human experience that Jesus speaks in the Gospel: “You are the light of the world.”

Jesus does not say, “You are the light.” This is both a gift and a responsibility. He uses images familiar to His listeners: a city on a hill, visible from far away, and a lamp placed on a stand so that it gives light to everyone in the house. These images remind us