Since Lent is a time of repentance and preparation for Easter, I’ve been (attempting to) consistently pray the daily office and give up desserts. Compline has left Isaiah 58:5-9a ringing in my ears: the fast God chooses is to ‘let the oppressed go free … and share your bread with the hungry.’ These days, many people think of fasting as a ‘medieval’ practice, in the worst sense. Or else they think of ‘intermittent fasting’ the dieting fad, stripped of any spiritual element. So, what makes fasting genuinely Christian?
Most directly, Fasts answer Isaiah’s demands when one re-routes the food (or saved time and money) towards those in need. Also, from 3rd-century Egyptian hermits to today’s Latin American liberation theologians, Christians have adopted poverty in order to proclaim the gospel. We can echo these saints by restricting our food to be in solidarity with the hungry poor. Solidarity helps us understand and act in their favour.
Moreover, fasting disrupts our normal habits. The disruption is spiritualised when becomes a reminder to turn towards God. One person may replace a meal-time with prayer, or another use the disruption to re-centre their purpose (‘I’m grouchy and so will have chocolate’ becomes ‘I’m grouchy and … need to dig deeper into God’s grace to love my neighbour’). Fasts should not be self-destructive, but instead involve self-denial that builds strength of character. The voluntary practice empowers us to deny ourselves when it’s necessary, taking up our cross to follow Christ.
Finally, as Ecclesiastes says, there is a time for everything under heaven. Feasting and fasting are no different. The changing seasons—from Christmas feasts, to Lenten fasts, and again to Easter feasts—charts the normal fluctuations of life onto a Christian calendar. Natural life-rhythms become part of a Christ-centred timeline throughout the year, living into Christ’s resurrection.