Someone once said to me that fasting seems like a very masochistic way to draw closer to the Lord. How does starving ourselves of nourishment please a loving God?
Reflecting on that, I understand how some people can see fasting as simply abstaining from food and drink. Yet even though that may be the physical feature of undertaking a fast, Christian fasting is much more than sacrificing your yummy treats. It’s not so much refusing food at all costs as it is to embrace a spirit of humble poverty, enabling the one who fasts to pledge solidarity with the poor, the hungry, the suffering and the oppressed, whose hunger and lack of nourishment is a daily struggle that goes beyond a meal or a day.
Fasting in its essence is a participation in the redemptive mission of Christ.
But before we go any further, let’s be clear that there’s nothing sinful in enjoying your food, except for maybe the killer waistline it can slap on. There’s nothing in the nature of divine law that frowns upon the “daily bread” that is so necessary for our survival, and which all of us receive from divine providence all our lives anyway.
As the gospel writers teach so clearly, love always goes beyond the law. There’s some truth in the old adage that “We should refuse our appetites what is lawful so that we may learn to deny ourselves what is unlawful”. However, true love is always more than just denial or abstinence, it is first and foremost always a gift, both in response to our God and to our neighbour.
In choosing to eat less, you choose to deprive yourself of your right to more so that you may be filled with greater riches. I remember an early John Michael Talbot song with a line that went “I am just a cup to overflow your will but I know I must be empty to be filled.”
That’s what we do when we deny ourselves little luxuries, it’s nothing less than an exercise in moving away from our passions and wills, and moving towards God.
Fasting isn’t so much about food and drink than about the will. I don’t know of many successful people who don’t unconsciously worship their own strength and ego and who find it hard to bow their heads to another kingship other than their own.
Hence when we choose to eat modestly or abstain for a spiritual intention (always taking care not to harm our health), we’re simply fasting from our conditioned impulses to ingratiate our appetites. This shouldn’t be seen as an indictment against the joys of culinary experience. We should most definitely enjoy our meals, which are nothing less than blessings from our Lord.
In fact, I think it’s great that some people love their food. I certainly do and with a passion, seeing as how there are times when I can barely keep my will from buckling under the aroma of a sizzling dish.
Obviously, food is so intrinsically tied to our basic instincts for survival that it sometimes takes all our discipline to keep our cravings in place. We are programmed to survive, which explains why our sexual instincts are also very strong impulses. Like the food we eat and the air we breathe, our need to propagate is part of our biological instinct to keep the human race alive. But above them all, there is our spiritual intellect and will which animates our quest for eternal life and salvation. As is so often the case, pandering to the body can often suffocate the soul, for if all we know are our physical needs, we shall soon forget that we have any spiritual ones.
Thus when we abstain from food or drink, take time to perform some minor mortification, deny ourselves some luxury (whether it’s time, sleep, cigarettes, television or money given in charity to our neighbour), we’re sometimes swept off our feet with surprise at seeing how such freely chosen expressions of love for God can impart to us extraordinary graces and consolations in our lives. And that kind of joy stays in our hearts more surely than any pleasure we may find in the world.
Of course, that's not to suggest that we should embark on some cruel masochistic adventure to rise to sanctity. No one can raise herself by pulling on the roots of her own hair. It’s God's grace that surrounds someone and gently lifts her off her feet in a cloud of love and carries her to the bosom of her Father.
Ok, but what about the saints and their frightening mortifications and excessive fasts? Tales of St Francis of Assisi treating his body with such disregard, or St Ignatius Loyola having a field day torturing his ailing stomach by refusing to eat for long periods seem extreme to post-modern minds to say the least, perhaps even insanely unnecessary.
Nevertheless, we shouldn't begrudge the saints their particular inspirations despite their being somewhat peculiar to us today. After all, who among us having been madly in love before does not know the extravagance of the heart for its object of affection?
Divine love lies behind the fasts and mortifications of the saints. And that's something of a paradox to a world used to ingratiating every appetite and passion as an expression of personal freedom and fulfillment. One wonders how liberated and free someone with such addictions are, particularly the addiction to worship our own ego as the paradigm of all morality, which we can shift and adjust to compensate our needs.
In the end, there is the pursuit and gratification of so much...and the true realisation of so little.
Somehow when we deny ourselves what is lawful and good by starting with food, we often find that naturally, it becomes easier to deny ourselves what is unlawful like lust.
This works for other temptations in our lives as well. No Easter without a Good Friday, no little resurrections without little crosses.
These days, I make a resolution to try and eat what's set before me without much fuss, which is an incredibly difficult thing for me to do as I'm such a fussy eater. Every month I also set aside a day for fasting and recollection, which admittedly isn’t much. But even then, I can see how that pays off in my life. I’ve begun to enjoy a certain freedom and healthiness from my usual over-indulgence that quietly covers me like a blanket of contentment. Furthermore, I am also learning to be more sensitive to other things as well, especially people.
That's not to suggest that I don't dive gleefully into my favourite dishes anymore when I get the chance, but sometimes I just prefer not to...and you know what?
It has made all the difference in helping me on this earthly pilgrimage I call my life.
Reflecting on that, I understand how some people can see fasting as simply abstaining from food and drink. Yet even though that may be the physical feature of undertaking a fast, Christian fasting is much more than sacrificing your yummy treats. It’s not so much refusing food at all costs as it is to embrace a spirit of humble poverty, enabling the one who fasts to pledge solidarity with the poor, the hungry, the suffering and the oppressed, whose hunger and lack of nourishment is a daily struggle that goes beyond a meal or a day.
Fasting in its essence is a participation in the redemptive mission of Christ.
But before we go any further, let’s be clear that there’s nothing sinful in enjoying your food, except for maybe the killer waistline it can slap on. There’s nothing in the nature of divine law that frowns upon the “daily bread” that is so necessary for our survival, and which all of us receive from divine providence all our lives anyway.
As the gospel writers teach so clearly, love always goes beyond the law. There’s some truth in the old adage that “We should refuse our appetites what is lawful so that we may learn to deny ourselves what is unlawful”. However, true love is always more than just denial or abstinence, it is first and foremost always a gift, both in response to our God and to our neighbour.
In choosing to eat less, you choose to deprive yourself of your right to more so that you may be filled with greater riches. I remember an early John Michael Talbot song with a line that went “I am just a cup to overflow your will but I know I must be empty to be filled.”
That’s what we do when we deny ourselves little luxuries, it’s nothing less than an exercise in moving away from our passions and wills, and moving towards God.
Fasting isn’t so much about food and drink than about the will. I don’t know of many successful people who don’t unconsciously worship their own strength and ego and who find it hard to bow their heads to another kingship other than their own.
Hence when we choose to eat modestly or abstain for a spiritual intention (always taking care not to harm our health), we’re simply fasting from our conditioned impulses to ingratiate our appetites. This shouldn’t be seen as an indictment against the joys of culinary experience. We should most definitely enjoy our meals, which are nothing less than blessings from our Lord.
In fact, I think it’s great that some people love their food. I certainly do and with a passion, seeing as how there are times when I can barely keep my will from buckling under the aroma of a sizzling dish.
Obviously, food is so intrinsically tied to our basic instincts for survival that it sometimes takes all our discipline to keep our cravings in place. We are programmed to survive, which explains why our sexual instincts are also very strong impulses. Like the food we eat and the air we breathe, our need to propagate is part of our biological instinct to keep the human race alive. But above them all, there is our spiritual intellect and will which animates our quest for eternal life and salvation. As is so often the case, pandering to the body can often suffocate the soul, for if all we know are our physical needs, we shall soon forget that we have any spiritual ones.
Thus when we abstain from food or drink, take time to perform some minor mortification, deny ourselves some luxury (whether it’s time, sleep, cigarettes, television or money given in charity to our neighbour), we’re sometimes swept off our feet with surprise at seeing how such freely chosen expressions of love for God can impart to us extraordinary graces and consolations in our lives. And that kind of joy stays in our hearts more surely than any pleasure we may find in the world.
Of course, that's not to suggest that we should embark on some cruel masochistic adventure to rise to sanctity. No one can raise herself by pulling on the roots of her own hair. It’s God's grace that surrounds someone and gently lifts her off her feet in a cloud of love and carries her to the bosom of her Father.
Ok, but what about the saints and their frightening mortifications and excessive fasts? Tales of St Francis of Assisi treating his body with such disregard, or St Ignatius Loyola having a field day torturing his ailing stomach by refusing to eat for long periods seem extreme to post-modern minds to say the least, perhaps even insanely unnecessary.
Nevertheless, we shouldn't begrudge the saints their particular inspirations despite their being somewhat peculiar to us today. After all, who among us having been madly in love before does not know the extravagance of the heart for its object of affection?
Divine love lies behind the fasts and mortifications of the saints. And that's something of a paradox to a world used to ingratiating every appetite and passion as an expression of personal freedom and fulfillment. One wonders how liberated and free someone with such addictions are, particularly the addiction to worship our own ego as the paradigm of all morality, which we can shift and adjust to compensate our needs.
In the end, there is the pursuit and gratification of so much...and the true realisation of so little.
Somehow when we deny ourselves what is lawful and good by starting with food, we often find that naturally, it becomes easier to deny ourselves what is unlawful like lust.
This works for other temptations in our lives as well. No Easter without a Good Friday, no little resurrections without little crosses.
These days, I make a resolution to try and eat what's set before me without much fuss, which is an incredibly difficult thing for me to do as I'm such a fussy eater. Every month I also set aside a day for fasting and recollection, which admittedly isn’t much. But even then, I can see how that pays off in my life. I’ve begun to enjoy a certain freedom and healthiness from my usual over-indulgence that quietly covers me like a blanket of contentment. Furthermore, I am also learning to be more sensitive to other things as well, especially people.
That's not to suggest that I don't dive gleefully into my favourite dishes anymore when I get the chance, but sometimes I just prefer not to...and you know what?
It has made all the difference in helping me on this earthly pilgrimage I call my life.
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