Some Reflections for Ash Wednesday 2026 by Paul-André Durocher

I — From Dust to Glory 

Before the liturgical reform of the Second Vatican Council (1962–1965), the imposition of ashes was accompanied by an invariable formula: “Remember, man, that you are dust and to dust you shall return.” These words are taken from Genesis 3:19, where God explains to Adam and Eve the consequence of their sin. In preconciliar spirituality, emphasis was placed on the harmful consequences of this original sin. The faithful were exhorted to do penance and make acts of reparation before a God who was seen above all as a stern judge. 

The Council’s 1963 document on the liturgy recalled that the entire prayer life of the Church must be centered on the Paschal Mystery — not only the death, but also the resurrection of Christ. This is why a second optional formula was proposed for the imposition of ashes: “Repent, and believe in the Gospel” (Mark 1:15). This formula emphasizes the hope that bursts into the world because of Christ’s resurrection and invites us to orient our lives so that this hope may take root in us and bear fruit. 

There is no contradiction between these two formulas, but rather a necessary complementarity. On the one hand, sin prevents us from bearing living fruit, like land so parched that it is reduced to dust. And if we remain entrenched in our sin, if we refuse to open ourselves to the grace that could bring us back to life, we will remain nothing but dust. This verse is not a judgment, but a statement of fact. It forces us to face the reality of our condition. 

On the other hand, God does not abandon us to this condition. He sent his Son to free us from the powers of evil and death. Provided that we welcome his Spirit and “repent,” the dust to which sin reduces us can be transformed into good soil that bears abundant fruit. 

Someone once said: “A human being is dust called to glory!” Taken together, the two formulas for the imposition of ashes remind us both of our condition — which can be miserable — and of our destiny — which can be glorious. That is why this year I will alternate between the two formulas when imposing ashes. Let us acknowledge our misery, but also believe in our potential: with the Spirit of God, we too can rise to new life! 

II — Not Just Forty Days 

A few years ago, I trained for a half‑marathon. For six months, I followed a demanding discipline that included an increasingly intense running program, a particular diet, and an adapted schedule. Finally, race day arrived, and I saw my efforts crowned with a respectable result. I was proud… and also happy to relax in the following months, eating and drinking freely and devoting myself to music and reading rather than sweating on the streets of my neighborhood. 

I have often lived Lent in a similar way. I considered the forty days before Easter as a time of spiritual and moral training during which I tried to live my faith more intensely. I devoted myself more regularly to prayer or Bible reading, attended Mass more often, and abstained from coffee, sweets, or alcohol. In my mind, this was about preparing myself to live the holy days well. But after Easter, I easily returned to my normal pace and my old habits. 

Today, I recognize the limits of this perspective. Even though I tried to live Lent well, I did not see that God desires a long‑term transformation of my being, a deep healing of my wounds, a lasting renewal of my way of thinking, living, and loving. To return to my example, it is less a matter of training for a single race than of adopting a lifestyle that permanently integrates physical exercise so that one’s overall health is improved for the long term. 

Psychologists say that it takes three months for a repeated action to become a habit. Three months means ninety days. Have you ever noticed that between Ash Wednesday and Pentecost there are precisely ninety days? The forty days of Lent and the fifty days of the Easter season add up to three months — exactly the time needed to develop a new habit and shape a new way of being for the long term. 

This year, I am looking for a small change that I can integrate into my daily life that will allow me to open myself to the Spirit of Christ not just for a few weeks, but for the rest of my life. Lent and the Easter season together give me the opportunity to devote myself more intensely to this change, in the hope that it will become permanent. In this way, I collaborate in God’s work of renewing me in the image of his Son, Jesus. 

III — A Time of Communal Renewal 

Receiving ashes is a profoundly personal gesture. When I approach the priest, bow my head, hear his invitation to conversion, and feel the ashes fall on my head or a cross traced on my forehead, something happens in my heart: I feel involved in a mystery greater than myself. And if I have fasted during the day, as the Church’s discipline invites me to do, my whole being — heart, body, and spirit — seems engaged in this intensely spiritual moment. 

However, receiving ashes is also a radically communal gesture. I do not receive them alone; I take part in an action shared with my brothers and sisters. With them, I walk in procession toward the altar to be marked; with them, I return to my place, somewhat transformed, to celebrate the memory of Christ’s Passover; with them, I commit myself for the months ahead to live the path of conversion proposed by the Church’s liturgy. 

Yes, Lent concerns the Christian community as such. It too is called to transformation, to become ever more a home of faith, hope, and love in this world. The Church’s vocation is to be the sacrament of salvation for all humanity, a living and tangible sign of the Spirit at work within her. Unfortunately, because of our limitations, weaknesses, and sins, our parishes struggle to live up to this vocation. Too often we resemble the community founded by Saint Paul in Corinth, where rivalries and disputes prevented unity in the love of Christ. 

Let us therefore take to heart a communal examination of conscience. Let us seek to grow in our ability to welcome one another, to listen attentively to each other, and to help one another walk together in fraternity and solidarity. In this way, we will become a little more that “village well” where all who thirst can come and drink, and leave with a song of joy on their lips and hearts filled with hope. 

✝ Paul-André Durocher 
 

Homily Feast of the Sacred Heart - St. Aloysius Parish

 

On June 27th, Feast day of the Sacred Heart, a diocesan celebration was held by the English zone at St. Aloysius Parish to thank the Fathers of the Sacred – particularly Fr. Bill Marrevee – for their many years of service in the diocese. On that occasion, Archbishop Durocher presided at Mass and invited Fr. John van den Hengel, priest of the Sacred Heart, to give the homily. Fr. John was a teacher of theology at St. Paul’s University for many years. Among his field of studies was the spirituality of Venerable Léon-Gustave Dehon, founder of the priests of the Sacred Heart. In his homily, Fr. John presented some of the key insights to be found in Pope Francis’ last encyclical which was devoted to the spirituality of the Sacred Heart. 

Here is the text of his homily:

Feast of the Sacred Heart, 

June 27, 2025

St. Aloysius, Gatineau

I am – as well as a number of my confreres here, among them Fr. Bill, whom we wish to honour for his years of service to the Archdiocese of Gatineau, and Fr. Greg, your pastor here – a Priest of the Sacred Heart.  The mystery around which our religious community has circled is the Sacred Heart. Despite all the difficulties with this devotion during the last century, our community has sought to honour that treasure and to live out of the gift of the Heart of Christ. Our Founder, Leo Dehon, in one of his last words, said “I leave you a wonderful treasure: the Sacred Heart.”  What I have discovered in my own life as a member of Priests of the Sacred Heart, is that in my preaching, in my writings, in my meditations, I have continued to circle around one main topic: the topic of love. As a Priest of the Sacred Hear, the topic of God’s Love, the love of the Heart of Christ, is the one core element in the Gospels with which we never quite finish, one mystery about which we never seem to find the right words... because it exceeds us.

Last year Pope Francis, almost as his last testament, wrote an encyclical about the Sacred Heart, entitled “He Loved Us”. He insisted that the Sacred Heart touches the most decisive question of our time: the desire of our heart and the necessity for humans to be in touch with a love that is unconditional. With this reflection on unconditional love, he acknowledged, he was summarizing what he had done and said in his ministry as Bishop of Rome. For him this was the synthesis of the Gospel: “There, he said, we encounter the whole Gospel, there we find a summary of all truth, there we find what we pray for and seek in faith, there we find what we need the most.” (Dilexit nos, # 89) “What we need the most” We could say a lot about what we need the most.  

This feast of the Sacred Heart makes me think of two things; they are drawn from the words of our founder, Léon Dehon and Pope Francis. The first thing we need the most is to recognize that at the heart of everything there is love. The second thing we need the most is for us to learn how to act with our heart. The Sacred Heart gives us to think; it tells us what we must not forget. Our life depends on it.

Let us start with our first need: it is to acknowledge that at the heart of everything there is love. I know we sing it in most of our songs. Didn’t the Beetles sing: “All you need is love.” They were right. Pope Francis in his encyclical reminds us of a long list of people throughout the centuries who have told us that we have been born out of the love of God. At the very core of God, they said, there is love: within God there is the incredible gift of Godself that goes so far that he repeats himself; that we have here a complete mirror of the giver. And that mirror of the Father came among us. It took on a heart of flesh and lived among us. Every Sunday we tell part of this story of Jesus, this story of love. We see him seeking people, healing them, conversing with them as with the Samaritan woman drawing water at the well, we see it in the story of the woman caught in adultery, we see it in the blind man by the roadside of whom he asks: “What do you want me to do for you.” (Mk 10.51) And it is most visible in the symbol that adorns all our churches: the image of Jesus dead on the cross with his heart pierced, an image of God, lifeless on a cross, the last drops of blood forced out of him by a lance. The heart of everything is love: much like the love of the poor widow who put her last two copper coins in the temple treasury for others. This is the heart of life; this is the greatest mystery in our life – a love that seeks us and remains a mystery for each one of us. It remains our deepest and at times most illusive desire.

The second great need, I said, was to be able to act with our heart. The Sacred Heart teaches us that we must do something for our time, for our world. The most devastating image of ourselves today is the image of Narcissus. Narcissus found himself one day staring into a well and saw an image of himself in the water and he was so attracted by the image of himself that he could not let it go. He became totally self absorbed, heartless. Many see this as an image of our time. Our society is built around technical reason. For us what is central is our will, our reason, our intelligence. We built a technocratic society, we communicate with our cellphones, write to each other using artificial intelligence. However much we appreciate what modern life has given us, it has made us into consumers, takers, full of ourselves. There is “no room left for the heart” said Pope Francis. It has not given us what we seek. The Sacred Heart teaches us to pay more attention to the heart as our primary agent. What we should learn is with the heart to build a “guest house”, open to others, open to God, where we build another kind of world, a bit more harmonious, a world capable of acknowledging others, where like Mary, according to Luke, we see things with the heart, where we treasure our life, and ponder its mysteries in our heart.

We pray today that we may be given the gift of the heart, that our heart may be touched by the intense love of Christ for me and so become an instrument allowing the heart of Christ a new possibility to spread into our world the flames of his love. The devotion to the Sacred Heart seeks to give our Lord a new possibility to spread this love in our world and to make amends for all the occasions where this love has been rejected and refused. It would allow us to help heal the wounds of the Church and of the world.  Blessed be the heart of Christ. 

2022 EASTER MESSAGE FROM BISHOP PAUL-ANDRÉ DUROCHER

 

A sixth wave of COVID, the crisis of climate change, renewed inflation, the war in Ukraine: we have so many reasons to feel discouraged. When will we finally get out of this?  

We experience this kind of painful feeling every time it seems our life or our world is caught in a vicious circle. We repeat past mistakes, we return to unhealthy habits, we sink into renewed depression. We believed in peace, but here comes war again. We hoped for joy, but sadness overwhelms us. We expected healing, but the wound once again has been opened. 

To believe in the resurrection of Jesus is to affirm that our perpetual restarts will not remain forever without a solution. It means finding hope in the heart of the vicious circles that surround us and committing ourselves to breaking out of them. It means refusing to be overwhelmed by discouragement and choosing to live fully, despite the limitations of the present moment. 

Believing in the risen Jesus is to open ourselves to a living relationship, a source of courage and hope. We never walk alone, for he who conquered death walks beside us. Out of our curves and detours, he draws straight lines. With him, vicious circles become spirals that purify, transform and elevate us. Through him, forgiveness and reconciliation become possible, we can walk together despite our differences. 

Let us therefore celebrate Easter with hearts inflamed by this conviction: in his Son Jesus, God opens a future for us. Christ is truly risen. Hallelujah! 

 + Paul-André Durocher 

Fratelli Tutti - Chapter II

Chapter 2: A Stranger on the Road

Without fear of being mistaken, one is liable to think that since time immemorial, human relations have not always at their best. The Bible abounds with examples of this, starting with Cain and Abel, from Job to Jesus and from Jesus to our time. History repeats itself, says Pope Francis who reminds us in the first chapter of this encyclical letter of so many of today’s tribulations. 

However, he does speak of ways that give hope as he searches “for a ray of light in the midst of what we are experiencing, and before proposing a few lines of action”. (#56) In chapter 2, “A stranger on the road”, he proposes the parable of the good Samaritan as this ray of light.

To develop a good understanding of the text, let’s take time to read this parable in the gospel according to Luke (10:25-35). We can even use it for Lectio Divina. 

The Pope starts by reminding us that “the joys and hopes, the grief and anguish of the people of our time, especially of those who are poor or afflicted, are the joys and hopes, the grief and anguish of the followers of Christ as well” (#56). This parable therefore concerns me as a believer. 

With which character do I identify?

The wounded man: “a man…. fell into the hands of robbers, who stripped him, beat him, and went away, leaving him half dead.”

Does it ever happen to me to feel like the wounded person? On these occasions, from whom do I expect help? How confident am I that the Lord will come to my rescue through a “close neighbour”? (#80)

The priest and the Levite: “A priest was going down that raod; and when he saw him, he passed by on the other side.” The Levite did the same. The same still happens in our time: “Someone is assaulted on our streets, and many hurry off as if they did not notice.” (#65) 

Do I sometimes simply carry on as if nothing has happened, like the priest and the Levite? Do I sometimes act as if I didn’t see anything? Do I take the time to stop?

The Samaritan (a stranger): “He went to him and bandaged his wounds, having poured oil and wine on them. Then he put him on his own animal, brought him to an inn, and took care of him.”

How can I be a “presence” to a wounded person? Do I first entrust this person to God? Do I entrust myself, knowing that I shall never be up to the task?

“In earlier Jewish traditions, the imperative to love and care for others appears to have been limited to relationships between members of the same nation.” (#59). However, the Pope reminds us that in the community of Saint John, “fellow Christians were to be welcomed, ‘even though they are strangers to you’ (3 Jn 5).” (#62) 

How do I understand the expression ‘neighbour’? Are my prayers and my care-giving limited to the members of my family, of my peer group or of my nationality? How do I understand the prayers of the faithful at Mass, which are also called ‘universal prayers’? Can I be present to others in the name of the presence of God who never abandons us?

Prayer:

My Lord Jesus, you tell me: Do this, and you shall live! Teach me to do the same, according to each situation, to my capacities; show me who is my neighbour; call me to open my eyes on the suffering that distresses our mankind. Our Holy Father reminds us: “In the face of so much pain and suffering, our only course is to imitate the Good Samaritan.” (#67)

This encyclical letter truly is a wonderful gift!



Text: Nicole Fortier-Courcy, (Gatineau group)

Translation: Marie-Thérèse Roy

Like the Wind in Our Sails || Fabruary 20th 2022 || Seventh Sunday in Ordinary Time - Year C

 How are we supposed to live with our enemies?

In this Sunday’s liturgy of the word, the Lord Jesus says to each one of us, “Love your enemies”.

Do we have enemies in our lives? Have you been wronged or mistreated or humiliated or plotted against by your enemies? Did you offend someone you have apologized to and the apology was not accepted? Have you angered someone who has set himself against you? Do you have a family or a community member who has a grudge against you? What do you feel inside yourself? Vengeance? A desire to punish or bring them down? Are you boiling emotionally inside yourself about your enemies?

We noticed how the truckers in Ottawa city have made the lives of the residents difficult and unpleasant because of their yelling and noise during the nights. We all have people whose lives have made our lives difficult and we think that our lives would be much better if they had never been born. These enemies, who are the cause of our vengeful feelings, are the people we are called to love.

How are we supposed to live with our enemies? Jesus tells us that you love your enemies by doing good to those who hate you, by blessing those who curse you and by praying for those who abuse you. We are supposed to “agape” our enemies, not to love them romantically as you love a “chum” or a blonde, or in a brotherly way, as we love our family members.

We are supposed to live with our enemies by being concerned about their interests and well-being. You do good to your enemies because you love God, the one who care about them and their well-being.

The Golden Rule “Do unto others as you would have them do unto you,” is based on what you would want others to do to you while on the contrary “love your enemies” is based on the way God deals with us as demonstrated in the life of Jesus himself.

The Lord is not asking too much of us. He is only telling us to be forgiving so we can receive forgiveness. In the Gospel of Luke, which we heard today, we are told “to be merciful, just as our heavenly Father is merciful.” Our goal as followers of Christ is to act in the same way God acts, which is to be merciful to everyone, even to our enemies.

Befriend your enemies as David did with King Saul. He had the opportunity to kill Saul who sought his life. Yet, he refused. Instead, David took Saul's water jar and spear to prove he was the best person. He was merciful. By doing this he changed the heart of Saul. Then Saul said to David, Blessed be you, my son David! You will do many things and will succeed in them. He started seeing the positive in David, being concerned about his well-being and made him great.

So what Jesus is asking us is difficult, but it’s not impossible, and it’s vital, too. Let us break the wall around our hearts, and love our enemies by doing good to them and make them great.

Jean-Paul Omombo

Like the Wind in our Sails || Sixth Sunday of the Ordinary Time - Year C

Reading I : Jer 17:5-8 Responsorial  Psalm : Ps 1:1-2, 3, 4 and 6                            Reading II : 1 Cor 15:12, 16-20                                       Gospel : Lk 6:17, 20-26

Alleluia, alleluia.

Rejoice and be glad;
your reward will be great in heaven.
Alleluia, alleluia. (Lk 6, 23)

Reading this Sunday's Gospel, I remember what God said to Israel in Dt 20.15.19: “Look! I put before you today life and happiness (blessing), or else death and misfortune (curse). Choose life..." It is exactly the same choice Jesus invites us to make by successively presenting to us four attitudes of happiness (Beatitudes) and four attitudes of unhappiness. And it should be noted that the 1st reading (“Cursed be the man…” and “Blessed be the man…”) and the Psalm (“Happy is the man…” and “Such is not the fate of wicked”) are situated in the same logic of invitation to choose life, happiness, blessing. 

I find it very comforting that Jesus cares about our happiness by taking into account the least aspects of our life, namely: our material situation (“Blessed are you, poor people…”); our basic/most basic needs (“Happy are you who are hungry now…”); our feelings/emotions (“Happy are you who are crying now…”); of our relationships with others (“Happy are you when men hate you…”). I find it very encouraging to know that I can still be happy, even in the midst of these various difficult situations seemingly at odds with happiness. But how is this possible? Let's look at the last two beatitudes to get an idea. 

"Blessed are you who weep now, for you will laugh." A priori, it is certainly not good to be in affliction and to make tears and sadness a Beatitude. But this Beatitude reminds me of these words from a parable of Jesus as a reproach to his contemporaries: “We played the flute, and you did not dance. We sang songs of mourning, and you did not cry. Instead of dancing to the sound of the flute, Jesus' contemporaries wept instead; and instead of crying to songs of mourning, they danced instead. I understand that not all the joys we experience are necessarily positive or constructive. On the other hand, even if the feeling of sadness is often destructive, a certain form of sadness can be fulfilling because it is motivated by solidarity, by compassion, by empathy, by charity. 

“Happy are you when men hate you and exclude you…”. Yes, I recognize that it is very painful and very depressing to see oneself rejected by others because of one's convictions. But the most serious and destructive rejection we can experience is self-rejection by ourselves, that is, when we come to deny our convictions in order to be accepted by others. Jesus wants to tell us that harmony with ourselves is much more important than harmony with others in leading us to happiness. Harmony with others must be built on the rock of harmony with oneself; otherwise, harmony with others is only artificial and cannot lead us to real fulfillment and happiness. Let us first seek harmony with ourselves and God, and harmony with others will be given to us as well. 

 Thank you, Lord, for showing us the true path to happiness. 

HOUETOUNGAN Constantin

Fratelli Tutti - Chapter I

Ms. Nicole Fortier-Courcy is an associate of the Franciscan Missionaries of Mary in Gatineau. She has prepared a series of short reflections that provide an overview of “Fratelli Tutti,” Pope Francis’s encyclical on fraternity and social friendship. Today, she presents us the first chapter.

Chapter I— The shadows of a closed world

What a joy for the associates of the Franciscan Missionaries of Mary is this encyclical from Pope Francis! I know I’m repeating myself, but I can’t resist.

Before he presents us with his dream that we have all become brothers and sisters in humanity, Pope Francis draws our attention to the manifestations of the lack of fraternity in the world, what he calls “the shadows of a closed world.” Courageously, he devotes the first chapter of this letter to this theme (#9 to 56). This is what I want to discuss with you in this reflection.

What are these shadows? The pope presents us with “certain trends in our world that hinder the development of universal fraternity” (#9). He says that these trends are “lacking a plan for everyone” (! 15), that they lead to “at absence of human dignity on the borders” of our countries (#37 to 42).

Where Saint Francis of Assisi favoured an approach “without borders” to “embrace everyone” (#3), today the “opening up to the world” is monopolized by economy and finance (#12). This trend towards globalization favours the identity of the strongest to the detriment of the weakest and the poorest, quite the opposite of what the saint wanted.

We face a globalization of marginalization (#18–22). “What is thrown away are not only food and dispensable objects, but often human beings themselves,” (#19) writes the pope, citing among other examples how children are increasingly affected by poverty (#29); how the elderly are abandoned to their loneliness (#19); how people are reduced to unemployment, resulting from an obsession with reducing labour costs (#20); how migrants, victims of “unscrupulous traffickers” (#38), mafia groups, drug and arms cartels, are exposed to racism and, still today, slavery. Human trafficking has reappeared; human beings are kidnapped for organ trafficking; women suffer from situations of exclusion, mistreatment and violence (#23). “Many forms of injustice persist, fed … by a profit-based economic model,” (#22) without forgetting the injustice due to the absence of an equitable distribution of natural resources (#29).

The pope also speaks of the illusion of communication (#42–50). He questions digital media with their “risk of addiction, isolation and a gradual loss of contact with concrete reality” (# 43). He denounces false information, fake news, networks of verbal violence on the Internet and through various forums (#45). He warns Christians that they are not exempt from all this (#39 and 46).

One might be discouraged after reading this first chapter. However, as a French Lenten hymn says, “Let us not to be overwhelmed by the shadows.” Pope Francis does not leave us in desolation: he promises to present many paths of hope in the following chapters. The Pope himself works in this direction. In spite of all the possible risks, he visited Iraq from March 5 to 8, 2021 with the pilgrimage motto: “You are all brothers.” He invites us to walk in this same hope.

What is my hope? What does “opening up to the world” mean to me?

By carefully observing my living environment, I ask the Holy Spirit to enlighten me. Do I recognize these vicissitudes that the Holy Father denounces?

I try to identify one or two of them. What would Jesus do in my place? I discuss it with people around me. Alone or with a group, I choose and enact one or more concrete actions to counter them.

Does the expression “outward-bound Church” now make sense to me?

Nicole Fortier-Courcy, afmm (Gatineau group)