ASHES AND ABSTINENCE: A CALL TO CONSCIENCE AND CLEAN GOVERNANCE
Anthony EKPO BASSEY
Ash Wednesday summons solemnity, a smudge of sacred ash sealing the faithful with a sign of surrender, sacrifice, and spiritual sobriety. It is the doorway to Lent, a season of repentance, reflection, and redirection, observed across the world by Christians, including those in communions such as the Roman Catholic Church, the Anglican Communion, and the Lutheran World Federation. From the dust of frailty to the flame of faith, Ash Wednesday whispers a weighty warning: power is passing, pride is perishing, and all pomp is temporary.
On the other hand, Ramadan rises with a resonant call to restraint. It is the blessed month in which Muslims, guided by the teachings of the Qur’an and exemplified by the Muhammad, fast from dawn to dusk, cultivating compassion, cultivating charity, cultivating consciousness of the Divine. The commencement of Ramadan fasting is not merely a ritual of refraining from food; it is a discipline of denying the ego, disarming excess, and dismantling injustice within the self. Hunger becomes a herald of humility; thirst becomes a teacher of tenderness.
Apparently, these sacred seasons, though springing from distinct spiritual streams, surge toward similar shores: repentance, renewal, and responsibility. They summon societies to sober self-scrutiny. They challenge cultures corrupted by consumerism, consciences clouded by corruption, and communities crippled by conflict. They declare that true greatness grows from goodness, not greed; from service, not self-seeking.
For instance, in our nation’s polity and politics, such seasons should spark a serious shift. Leaders marked by ash should remember accountability above authority. Public servants observing Ramadan should practice probity beyond performance. Fasting and prayer must move from private piety to public principle. If foreheads are furrowed in worship but hands are hardened in exploitation, the symbol is silenced and the sacrifice is squandered.
It is necessary to remind us that Ash calls for moral memory in governance, a remembrance that every office is occupied temporarily and every oath will one day be weighed. Ramadan calls for ethical equilibrium in economics: a recognition that wealth without welfare is hollow, and policy without compassion is perilous. Together, they beckon politicians toward prudence, patience, and purity.
Consequently, let budgets be built with benevolence. Let debates be conducted with dignity. Let campaigns cease from calumny and cultivate civility. A nation attentive to these holy horizons would see less plunder and more protection, less rivalry and more reconciliation.
Sacred ashes and sacred abstinence are not relics of ritual. Rather, they are reminders of responsibility. When repentance reshapes rulers and fasting forms fair-minded functionaries, the republic is renewed. In the quiet call of Ash Wednesday and the radiant restraint of Ramadan lies a powerful possibility, that faith may fertilise fairness, and devotion may deepen democracy.
