Homily given by Bishop Anthony Randazzo
Bishop of Broken Bay
Ash Wednesday
18 February 2026
My dear brothers and sisters in Christ, today we begin again.
On this holy day of Ash Wednesday, the Church places ashes upon our heads and the Word of God within our hearts. Through the prophet Joel we hear the Lord’s plea, “Come back to me with all your heart.” (Joel 2:12) Not with part of your heart. Not with a polite gesture. Not with a token effort. With all your heart.
The ashes we receive are not a sign of despair. They are a sign of truth. They remind us that we are dust, and yet dust loved by God. They remind us that we are sinners, and yet sinners for whom Jesus Christ stretched out his arms upon the Cross. They remind us that Lent is not about appearances. It is about the heart. The Lord does not ask for a performance. He asks for you.
Saint Paul speaks with urgency when he says, “Be reconciled to God.” (2 Cor 5:20)
This is not a threat. It is an invitation to allow ourselves to be loved by God. Allow ourselves to be forgiven by God. Allow ourselves to be sanctified by God. Divine charity is not earned. It is gift. God desires us. He desires our hearts.
The Gospel today warns us, “Be careful not to parade your good deeds before others.” (Matthew 6:1)
Lent is not theatre. It is transformation. It is not about looking religious. It is about becoming holy.
The Church places before us the three great pathways of Lent: prayer, fasting, and almsgiving. We know them well. Yet if they remain simply ideas, they will not change us. They must enter the fabric of our daily lives.
Prayer is more than adding a few extra words. It is the courageous act of placing our real selves before God. It means bringing to God the impatience that flares in traffic, the resentment that lingers at work, the quiet disappointments we carry in family life. It means allowing the Lord to look into the hidden rooms of our hearts. In prayer we stop pretending. We let God love us as we are, so that he may remake us into who we are called to be.
Perhaps this Lent prayer will mean turning off the noise in our homes so that silence can speak. Perhaps it will mean returning to the Sacrament of Reconciliation after some time away. Perhaps it will mean ten faithful minutes each day with the Scriptures. Whatever form it takes, true prayer breaks open the heart of stone and begins to form within us a heart of flesh.
Fasting, too, is more than eating less. It is learning to say no so that we can say yes to what truly matters.
We fast from food, yes. But we may also need to fast from harsh words, from constant criticism, from the need to be right. We may need to fast from scrolling without purpose, from filling every silence, from feeding grudges that should have died long ago.
Fasting reveals what controls us. It exposes our attachments. And when we freely accept that small hunger, that small emptiness, we unite ourselves to the greater hunger of Christ upon the Cross. We learn that we do not live by bread alone. We learn that our deepest need is God.
Almsgiving is often reduced to money or material assistance. These are important. Yet charity is far more.
Charity is love that flows from the heart of Christ through our hearts into the hearts of others. It is love in thought, in word, in action, especially when no one sees. It is easy to give what we no longer need. It is harder to give patience when we are tired. It is harder to give forgiveness when we have been wounded. It is harder to rejoice when another is praised and we are overlooked. Real charity is not showy. It does not smother others in empty gestures. Divine charity sacrifices self for the other. It rejoices when the other is loved.
The prophet urges us, in effect, let your hearts be broken. Not broken in despair but broken open in contrition. Have we allowed unkind thoughts to take root. Have our words wounded. Have we passed by those in need because we were too busy.
Lent invites us to feel this honestly, not to crush us, but to free us. For when the heart is broken open in repentance, the love of God can flow. A closed heart cannot receive mercy. An open and contrite heart becomes a channel of grace.
My dear people, we cannot be agents of God’s forgiveness if we refuse to be forgiven. We cannot be bearers of divine love if we have not first allowed ourselves to be loved. This Lent, can we dare to believe that the Lord truly desires us. Can we dare to receive his mercy, not as a theory, but as a living reality.
Lent is a real dying and a real rising. We are invited to participate in the Passion and Resurrection of Jesus Christ. As we journey towards Easter, the Lord is offering us freedom and hope. He is teaching us to receive these gifts more deeply and to live them more fully.
This Lent, the Holy Spirit will teach us how to live fully in the great and small events of daily life. In our homes. In our workplaces. In our classrooms. In our parishes. In the hidden places where only God sees.
“Come back to me with all your heart.”
This is the plea of the Father who longs for his children. Let us not hold back. Let us give him the impatience, the pride, the fear, the lack of charity. Let us give him our whole heart. And in exchange, he will give us his own.
May this holy Season of Lent be for each of us a time of true reconciliation, deep purification, and quiet transformation. So that when we stand at the empty tomb at Easter, we may know not only that Christ is risen, but that we have risen with him. Amen.