iFast

One of the primary spiritual practices of Lent is FASTING, along with prayer and almsgiving (giving to the poor). I have practiced fasting during Lent for about 30 years. I started in high school, fasting on Good Friday, and enjoyed a day off from school, make-up, hairstyling, and food--until one of my college profs called me on that, reminding me that we are not to display our fasting to others (Matthew 6:16-18). [disclaimer: I truly regarded that practice as a fast from vanity and peer pressure to look my best at all times, not as a flaunting of my piety. And the prof noticed it because I skipped his class, per my usual practice of not having school on Good Friday, and had to make up an exam.]

My fasting has expanded in recent years, first to add Ash Wednesday to the Good Friday practice; and now to include one day a week during Lent. What I "give up" in Lent is one day of eating, one 24-hour day each week. Over the years I have come to associate the feeling of hunger, during this fasting time, as a spiritual nudge from God, as a grumbly tummy reminds me that I am fasting, and that fasting is for not being distracted from God. In my current practice, I fast 40 hours each on Ash Wednesday and Good Friday, and 24 hours once a week in between.

So why do I fast? I had this conversation with my spiritual director a few years ago, asking her that very question: why do I fast? Well, there are several reasons, any one of which might be the reason any given week: I am a cradle Lutheran, from a tradition that has for centuries included fasting as part of spiritual discipline during Lent. Not eating reminds me that the sense that I have complete control over my life (I can buy food and eat whenever I want to) is only an illusion--truly my life is in God's hands. Fasting reminds me that some people feel that empty grumble almost every moment of almost every day, and challenges me to examine how my habits around food contribute to this inequality. Not taking time out to eat gives me a little more time for other things (ideally, prayer), and not spending money on food frees up that bit of cash to be given to the poor. Being hungry for awhile is a bit of a test--am I willing to take up that cross and follow Jesus to communities that live hungry all the time?

This Ash Wednesday (Feb. 22) I felt the fasting not so much physically as spiritually. I felt deeply connected to the Divine, through my gut. I prayed several times throughout the day, sometimes driven there by light-headedness that required I sit still for awhile. I prayed formal prayers, and I prayed for others, both for their needs and praying their prayers for them when they were not able to join us for worship.

Fasting draws me in to myself, which is not a common or comfortable place for me, an extreme extrovert who practices spirituality by focusing on others--praying for them, serving them, walking with them. But the depth to which fasting allows me to go is the place I find God on these holy days, a personal and intimate meeting that my soul needs, even if my extroverted mind won't admit it.

I commend this spiritual practice to you, precisely because it is not normal or expected, and it is not easy. In such jolts from our routines, God often gets our attention.