Fasting Is Intimacy With God
March 5, 2025 – Ash Wednesday
Isaiah 58:1-12; 2 Corinthians 5:20b-6:10; Matthew 6:1-6, 16-21
In the spring of 1538, the price of eggs skyrocketed. At the previous Easter, one could buy a dozen eggs for a penny. But, by mid-March of that year, a penny would only get you eight, and the reason for this fifty-percent egg-inflation was a strange consequence of church and state.
As Lent approached, King Henry VIII knew he had a problem on his hands. For unknown reasons, the nation’s catch of fish had plummeted, and for a kingdom of people who loved their religious fasts, a shortage of fish was a big problem. Back then, when people fasted, they abstained not only from meat but from all animal products, including milk, cheese, and eggs. And they fasted not only during the forty days of Lent but all throughout the year—on the eves of most major feasts, on Fridays, on ember days, and on lots of other days. Some were so pious that, on whatever day of the week the Feast of the Annunciation (March 25) fell, they would fast on that weekday for the rest of the year!
Fish, therefore, were a staple of the 16th-century English diet, and a nation that did not have access to its fish was prone to revolt. So Henry VIII, whose supreme authority over the church in England had already been declared by Parliament, decreed that “white meats,” such as cheese and eggs, were no longer prohibited by the Lenten fast. It was a royal, “Let them eat eggs!” if you will, and eggs they ate, sending their price through the roof.
Of course, not everyone accepts the religious decrees issued by the head of state, and many traditionalists refused to give up their Lenten devotions. In a sermon, Thomas Coveley, the Vicar of Tysehurst, denounced both the king’s act and, by implication, the supremacy behind it, preaching, “Ye will not fast lent, ye will eat white meat, yea, and [if] it were not for shame, ye would eat a piece of bacon instead of a red herring. I dare say there be a hundred thousand worse people now than there were this time twelvemonth [ago] within England.” [1]
Among Anglican clergy, I have pretty strong Protestant tendencies, and, when it comes to picking a side between King Henry and Thomas Coveley, who also declared that Bible-reading was the detestable habit of “botchers, bunglers, and cobblers” and, thus, was to be discouraged, I tend to side with the reformers. [2] But, on Ash Wednesday, as Mother Church stands at the threshold of another holy season of Lent, I find that even my suppressed, lowercase-c catholic instincts are again being awakened, but only if we get our priorities right.
Surely the purpose and benefit of a Lenten fast lie not in its economic impact nor in its political motivation nor even in its denominational affiliation but in its ability to unite an individual—in body, mind, and spirit—with its Maker. The fasting, which we endeavor to keep these forty days, is not about meeting the expectations of our neighbors or fulfilling the obligations of our church but about making ourselves more fully available to God.
“Whenever you fast,” Jesus taught us, “do not look dismal, like the hypocrites, for they disfigure their faces so as to show others that they are fasting. Truly I tell you, they have received their reward. But when you fast, put oil on your head and wash your face, so that your fasting may be seen not by others but by your Father who is in secret; and your Father who sees in secret will reward you.” The word translated for us as “reward” literally means “payback” or “return.” The question that Jesus puts before us, therefore, is whether the goal of our fasting is to receive something in return from other people or from God, or, to put it simply, whether our Lenten focus is on earth or in heaven.
No matter how Protestant your proclivities, I think all of us can accept that not every Lenten discipline is devoid of spiritual power. Jesus says that, as long as our fasting is done in secret, God is faithful and will honor our spiritual work by returning to us the fruit of that labor. But remembering what form that fruit will take is essential. As Isaiah warns us, human beings tend to distort religious practices like fasting until they become empty gestures designed to serve our own interests. A real, true, and faithful fast, on the other hand, seeks “to loose the bonds of injustice, to undo the thongs of the yoke, to let the oppressed go free, and to break every yoke…to share your bread with the hungry, and bring the homeless poor into your house.”
If offered quietly to God, fasting has the ability to awaken our conscience to see around us what God sees—the unmet needs of our neighbors. And the grumbling of our empty stomachs becomes the voice of the chronically hungry—a voice that our fasting teaches us not to ignore. There is divine power, grace, and love that come from our Lenten fast. When we abstain from the ordinary pleasures and comforts of a full life as a means by which we draw nearer to God, we invite God to conform us more fully to the divine will—a will which is always lovingly responsive to the needs of others.
But I think there’s more to it than that. There’s no doubt that fasting has the psychological benefit of quickening your conscience and that giving all the food you otherwise would have eaten to someone who is hungry will make a big difference in their life. But I believe that fasting, like prayer, is an offering to God that God can use to do amazing things in the world. When, with God’s help, we offer a holy fast selflessly to God, our fasting has divine potential. It is a channel or vehicle through which God acts, not only by inspiring the pious to seek God’s will but even in ways that transcend psychological or scientific explanation. When we draw near to God, God draws near to the world through us. Fasting, therefore, is a means for deep intimacy and exchange with the divine.
I don’t understand how that works, and I feel a little silly saying it out loud, but I believe that, when we fast, God receives the genuine offering our ourselves and responds to that offering in love. The faithful have always known that. Whether it’s an army assembling on the eve of battle, a parent caring for a sick child, a prophet preparing for an arduous journey, a nation fearing for its future, or a congregation anticipating a day of celebration, God’s people consecrate themselves through fasting in order that God might be present among them in ways that exceed their own abilities. But that will never be the case if their fasting is offered for their own interests and not for God’s.
Jesus tells us to wash our face and put oil on our heads in order that our fasting might be done in secret. He says that not only to teach us the value of humility but also to ensure that our spiritual work will bear the fruit we seek. You can save a lot of money by giving up meat or eggs for Lent. You can lose a few pounds if you give up sweets and alcohol. You can even impress your family and friends by showing them how faithful you are in keeping your Lenten fast. If that’s the reward you’re after, go for it. I promise that you’ll get what you’re looking for. But, if you want to see what God can do, don’t tell anyone about it, and your Father who sees in secret will reward you.
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1. Duffy, Eamon. The Stripping of the Altars. Yale UP; New Haven: 1992, 405.
2. Ibid.
© 2025 Evan D. Garner
