Why Fast?
FROM THE RECTOR
Next Wednesday, when we gather to begin our Lenten journey, we will be invited “to the observance of a holy Lent.” But what does that actually mean? Does it mean giving something up? Burying our “alleluias” until Easter? Wallowing in self-deprecation?
We find an answer in the rest of what the minister says to us right before we receive the ashen cross: “I invite you, therefore, in the name of the Church, to the observance of a holy Lent, by self-examination and repentance; by prayer, fasting, and self-denial; and by reading and meditating on God’s holy Word.” There is a lot more to it than giving up chocolate or alcohol for forty days. As our liturgy reminds us, Lent is a time for all of us to be “put in mind of the message of pardon and absolution set forth in the Gospel of our Savior, and of the need which all Christians continually have to renew their repentance and faith.”
As followers of Jesus, we always need to be about the business of renewing our repentance and faith—of returning to God and receiving God’s mercy. Lent is a good time to do that. This year, instead of simply figuring out what you will give up, ask yourself how you will prepare your heart and mind and body to return fully to God and to celebrate the resurrection of Jesus Christ. That might mean giving something up, but I suspect it will mean more than that. You do not need to be a new convert to the faith or a notorious sinner who has been separated from the body of the faithful to experience the power of that renewal when Easter comes, but a thoughtful Lenten intention really helps.
One old-fashioned way to focus our spiritual attention on God is fasting. As Lora Walsh mentioned a few times in her recent series on world religions, fasting is a practice shared by many traditions. Often reserved for a special class of highly observant people known as “renouncers,” fasting is a way to set oneself apart from the ordinary patterns and demands of life by giving up food or drink or something else the body normally needs. In Lent, this habit, which is usually practiced only by monastics or ascetics, is often taken up by regular people like us.
Why do we fast? In our tradition, fasting is not primarily a way to prove one’s worth to a demanding deity but a way to reconnect with our loving God. This practice teaches us the limits of our mortality, forces us to depend on God’s mercy, and reminds us of the provision God offers both in this life and in the next. As an act of mortification, it trains us—disciplines us—to forsake unnecessary indulgences and the sinful desires that draw us toward them. By connecting the hunger we so easily feel in our bellies with the hunger we sometimes struggle to feel in our hearts, fasting is a tangible way to pursue spiritual truth.
We cannot fast, therefore, by giving up candy or alcohol. If becoming sober helps you get closer to God, maybe you should stop drinking altogether. Lent is a good time to start, but that is not the sort of fasting I have in mind. I mean choosing a day each week to refrain from eating or drinking anything from sunrise to sunset. I mean giving up meat for all of Lent. I mean going to bed a little bit hungry and knowing that you will still be alright. I mean feeling the discomfort of a grumbling stomach and thus remembering how rich God’s goodness and mercies are.
Fasting is not for everyone. Children, the elderly, those who are pregnant, anyone who is sick, and travelers are traditionally exempt from fasting. Spiritual logic suggests that the same should be true for people with eating disorders or diabetes or any other circumstance where fasting would create undue hardship. Maybe in those circumstances, giving up something symbolic—coffee or snacks—would help. Again, the point of fasting is not to meet some external objective for spiritual rigor but to adopt a rigorous practice that instills spiritual growth.
If not fasting, consider reading and meditating on God’s Word in a way that would renew and restore your relationship with God. You could read the Bible for an hour every morning and every night. At that pace, you could read the whole thing in forty days. Maybe radical almsgiving is more your style. You could give away a third of your income to 7Hills or CEO. It would not be easy. You would need to give up a lot in order to do it, but you could probably make it work for Lent. Perhaps intentional prayer is best. You could set the alarm on your smartphone to alert you when it is time to say all eight of the Benedictine canonical hours, spread out between 2:00 a.m. and 7:00 p.m.. Your boss or family may have a problem with it, but you can assure them that this religious devotion will only last for a month and a half.
In a way, of course, I am kidding, but, in a deeper way, I am not. Lent is an indescribably important opportunity for us to renew our relationship with God in anticipation of our Easter celebration. Our life depends absolutely and totally on God’s goodness, mercy, and love, which are manifest most profoundly in the resurrection. Putting ourselves in the right mindset to appreciate that as fully as possible takes remarkably hard work. Will God love you whether you fast, pray, read, give, or do nothing at all? Without a doubt. Will you know God’s love more clearly if you adopt a demanding Lenten practice? For sure. This year, before you give something up just because you are supposed to, consider how you might pursue an even more important goal. Come Easter, it will have been worth it.
Yours Faithfully,
Evan