The Lenten Fast 3

 This liturgical season of Lent goes way back. There seems to have been an early impetus for the Church to prepare for and commemorate Jesus’ suffering, death, and Resurrection by means of fasting.

If you'd like to take a deep dive into the history, I recommend this article in the Roman Catholic Church’s official encyclopedia, the New Advent: https://www.newadvent.org/cathen/09152a.htm

You can follow links in this article to articles on “fast” and “mortification,” which make for fascinating reading (if a bit dry, as you might expect from an encyclopedia article).

I tend to approach these things from a Protestant perspective, and more narrowly from a Reformed perspective, which biases me toward wearing certain lenses. One lens is polarized for legalism in the Church. You will see in the above article a broad historical concern for what the rules of Lent and the rules of fasting dictate. When fasting, at what time of day can one eat, what materials can one consume, and how much of each? While we may no longer adhere to the rules of Roman Catholic doctrine, seeing these rules unfold historically with such firmness reveals that we tend to substitute attention to the discipline for attention to the effects.

If you dig deep into the article on fasting in New Advent, you find an assertion that the specifics of fasting are really important because fasting is a tool of expiation for sin. And I see this topic, too, through another lens.

We have a long tradition that views fasting as somehow dealing with the problem of past sins. This perspective sets off alarm bells for me, because it threatens to dilute the conviction that we are fully forgiven in Christ, and do not have to bear the guilt or shame of past sins. This perspective reminds me of how we have on occasion taught our children to do chores: as punishment. Your consequence for bad behavior is to vacuum the house. But wait–isn’t the purpose of vacuuming so that we and guests can better enjoy the comfort of our home?

These two issues, legalism and penitence–and we might add limiting Christian discipline to seasons–remind us that it's hard to keep our eyes on the prize. We have been given the Spirit of Christ, forgiven from past sins and empowered to grow in love all of our days.

I would rather set aside the questions of “Am I following the fasting rules just right?” and “Am I fasting enough to atone for my sins?” I would rather pick up the question, “What is God showing me about myself in this fast?” I would rather ask God, “How do you want me to grow into the image of Jesus?”

When we offer ourselves to God, accentuating that offer with the space opened by fasting, God fills that space with the Spirit. And the Spirit always comes to make us more like Jesus, empowering us with grace and peace.

~ emrys

An Insider's Perspective

I appreciate the wide range of guests that Mark Labberton hosts on his podcast "Conversing." Especially apropos right now is this conversation with a Texas Republican Christian who has especial insight into national leadership: https://comment.org/podcasts/keeping-the-country-safe/

I recommend it to you.

~ emrys

The Lenten Fast 2

 It is a strange thing to fast. We give up things with some regularity: I may stop eating meat products in order to lower my cholesterol; I may stop scrolling Instagram in order to get some work done; I may stop buying books so that I can afford to go on vacation. Ceasing to do something I want to do constitutes part of normal life. But fasting is not normal.

In the Christian discipline of fasting, I cannot draw a straight line from not eating (something, or anything) to a particular goal. By abstaining I do not get something else done. And God does not promise a particular outcome from a fast. So what am I doing?

Paul of Tarsus wrote, “for if you live according to the flesh, you will die, but if by the Spirit you put to death the deeds of the body, you will live” (Romans 8:13, NRSV). As a condition of life, Paul writes, I “put to death” the deeds that my body drives me to do. The old-school term for this is “mortification.”

A full understanding of what's happening in mortification takes a lifetime. But I start by recognizing that somehow sin works in my body and therefore I train against sin by showing my body who’s boss. And I do that by telling a core craving, like hunger or the need to stay connected, to go to the principal's office while I get on with class. That's fasting.

What do I learn when I send hunger to sit in the corner? Only the Spirit knows exactly, but what might begin to dawn on me is that my belly is not in control of my life. If I am fasting from social media, I might learn that The Fear Of Missing Out is full of hot air and learn what it feels like to wake up, more alive and peaceful after a day and night of Missing That Meme.

I might. I also might discover that fasting is hard, and I am weak. Hallelujah: I have been given another grace from the originator and finalizer of our trust. I have discovered a place where God hopes to do more work in my heart. With either outcome, or any outcome, I have been given more life in Christ by putting to death the parasite of sin sucking on my soul.

Life, as Jesus teaches, does its own thing. The kingdom of heaven naturally expands from mustard seed to spreading tree, from a sprinkle of yeast to a lump of dough overflowing on the counter. By fasting we weed the garden, we clean out the proofing bowl, we scrub our hard drives of viruses. And then we see what the Spirit will grow in those open places.

~ emrys

The Lenten Fast 1

I am curious about fasting. We are about to enter a season in which the more liturgical Christian traditions encourage fasting: Lent, the six weeks leading up to Resurrection Sunday. I would like to engage the discipline of fasting this year; perhaps you will join me in this. But how to choose what to fast from?

Fasting is a discipline of abstinence, by definition. What shall I remove from my life for six weeks in order to . . . more on that later. First: What to choose?

In my experience, folks fast in Lent from something that is optional, but which also may be unhealthy in large or frequent doses. Like sugar, chocolate, social media, and so on. Generally there is an intention to return to the practice or consumption of the thing after Resurrection, though sometimes the Lenten fast is an attempt to begin a long-term reduction in usage. I do not have hard data, but reflecting on the phenomenon of New Year's resolutions I feel confident guessing that this attempt does not produce long-term results.

This is a strange confluence to me: that I should fast from something temporarily, something that my life might be better without, with a plan to return to it.

If I have a bonus motivation in Lent–motivation from liturgy, from tradition, from a community practice–why would I not use this opportunity to fast from something that I know I should be ushering out the door? In these six weeks, soon upon us, I will have an unusual number of accountability partners ready, unashamed, to ask me if I have been keeping my fast, for a full six weeks. Why not use this time for something more than a good feeling that will fade? Why not follow the Spirit into some more brightened life?

So my question is changing. I am beginning to wonder less, What good thing will I give up for Lent? and more, What thing will Lent help me give up for good?

~ emrys