This year, Earth Day quietly slipped by on 22 April, Holy Tuesday, drowned out by the solemn processions, prayers and vacation plans.

While churches filled with the faithful and highways buzzed with vacation-bound travelers, something crucial went unnoticed: our planet’s silent cry for attention. The usual flood of environmental posts on social media was reduced to a trickle. Corporate pledges to “go green” were put on hold until after Lent. Even the token tree-planting activities that typically populate our news feeds were conspicuously rare.

There were no viral hashtags, no greenwashing spectacles — just the usual hum of Lent’s daily life.

We’ve turned Earth Day into an annual performance — a single day of seemingly half-hearted gestures before returning to business as usual. Offices that celebrated last year by banning plastic cups are back to stacks of disposable coffee pods. The same influencers who posted tree-planting selfies jetted off to another tropical getaway. Even corporations paused their eco-themed marketing blitzes — after all, Lent is no time for a greenwashed guilt trip.

Honestly, there’s something tragically funny about how we treat the planet like a neglected houseplant: “Sorry, I forgot to water you for 11 months — here’s a whole gallon at once!”

We act shocked when forests burn, oceans choke on plastic, and cities sink under floods —as if Earth’s decline happened overnight. The truth is, it’s the result of countless small choices we make every day — the disposable coffee cups we accept without thinking, the plastic bags we use for a few minutes that will outlive us by centuries.

This year’s calendar clash exposed our priorities. Holy Week rightfully demanded spiritual reflection, but since when did caring for the Earth become incompatible with faith? The Bible’s first commandment is literally “Tend the garden” (Genesis 2:15), yet we’ve twisted spirituality into a free pass for environmental apathy.

Meanwhile, the planet keeps groaning under the weight of tourist trash piling up at eco-paradise destinations like Boracay and El Nido, styrofoam food containers and plastic-laden binignit (ginataan) tubs left at pilgrimage sites, aircon units humming in empty churches and homes, while activists sweated through climate rallies.

What if, instead of one performative day, we baked Earth care into all our traditions? Like hunting for Easter eggs in biodegradable dyes, doing the Visita Iglesia on electric jeepneys and bicycles, no-meat and no-plastic penitencia challenges.

Faith shouldn’t excuse wastefulness. If we can abstain from chicharon for days, surely we can ditch single-use plastics, too. If we can endure hours of Pabasa chanting in the heat, we can certainly turn off unnecessary lights and appliances. Our Lenten sacrifices should extend beyond personal piety to planetary care.

Earth Day’s quiet passing this year is a wake-up call. The planet doesn’t need our annual photo ops. Rather, it needs consistent and sustainable action.

Next time Earth Day falls on a holiday, let’s not bury it. Let’s weave it into our rituals. After all, what’s more holy than keeping God’s creation livable?

Doesn’t the psalmist remind us: “The earth is the Lord’s” (Psalm 24:1), and right now, we are terrible tenants. Hence, it’s time to pay the rent. It is not to be exploited, but protected.

It turns out that the planet didn’t pause for Lent or other holidays, for that matter. The environmental crisis won’t wait at our convenience.