More than this: the Season of Lent is a spiritual wake-up call for us to focus instead on ourselves, and how we are carrying our own passion and cross at this point in our life.
To begin with, each one of us was created for only one purpose: to love and be loved. All the three evangelists are one in quoting Christ as expressing the one, fundamental law of God: Love the Lord your God with all your heart, with all your mind, with all your soul; and love your neighbor as you love yourself. (Mt. 22: 37-39; Mk. 12: 30-31; Lk. 10: 27-28)
This, then, is to be our primary profession. To be professional lovers. All other professions are second only to this, and are meant to serve our primary profession. What, then, is the connection between one’s primary profession as lover and one’s passion and cross? The cross is nothing less than the most eloquent way of loving. In other words, love hurts. But such a cross, carried out of love, is most powerful. It saves. You and I know what this means. And since we do not know how much time is given to us in this life, let us take full advantage of each day given to us. As the professional lover St. Ignatius once said: "Live each day as if it were your last."
It is in this context that our Ash Wednesday ritual was so personally meaningful: "Remember, you are dust and to dust you will return." This wake-up call propels us to carry our individual as well as our shared crosses  either crosses willingly accepted and embraced, or crosses willingly chosen through prayerful, loving discernment.
This personal discernment is my surrender to God’s will, to be the clay in the Potter’s hand, so that I may be molded and formed according to His designs  with all the hurts and pains involved in the process  and come out as the Potter’s masterpiece of love at the end of my life.
Or I can be the bow in the Archer’s hand, so that He can stretch and bend me all the way, in three successive steps:
"I am a bow in your hands, Lord, draw me lest I rot.
Do not overdraw me, Lord, lest I break.
Overdraw me, Lord, and who cares if I break."
I cannot help but recall Anthony de Mello’s narration of a soldier behind the frontlines in a battlefield, defending his country from invaders.
"My friend isn’t back from the battlefield, Sir. Request permission to go out and get him." "Permission refused," said the officer. "I don’t want you to risk your life for a man who is probably dead."
The soldier went all the same and, an hour later, came back mortally wounded, carrying the corpse of his friend. The officer was furious. "I told you he was dead. Now I’ve lost both of you. Tell me, was it worth going out there to bring in a corpse?" The dying soldier replied, "Oh, it was, sir. When I got to him, he was still alive. And he said to me, ‘Jack, I was sure you’d come.’"
As we look ahead, my dear fellow-Filipinos, the coming May elections is nothing less than a political battlefield. To fight for clean and honest elections is risky indeed. But it is worth the risk. This is one significant way of loving our country, the one and only country that God gave us. With Christ as our commander-in-chief, there is absolutely nothing to be afraid of. Let us be actively involved through the Parish Pastoral Council for Responsible Voting (PPCRV) and the Simbahang Lingkod Ng Bayan.
So help us, God.