Think Fast

Fish on Fridays was something I grew up knowing about.  My family was always desperately protestant, so we didn't hold to a weekly fast or anything like that, but there were people who did, and
growing up in a Catholic school, you certainly knew about it.  And as the weekly fast rolled around, it seemed curiously arbitrary.

First of all, why do fish not count as meat?  They're an animal, aren't they?  Secondly, with the weekly fast rolling around, it wasn't as though people went meat free, it was fish on Fridays, that was the way it was presented.  Now, as a protestant growing up in a Catholic world, that was something to see.  But the other problem with the way it was presented (and I know this isn't how it was intended, before all the regular Catholic readers jump all over me) was that there was some inherant moral benefit to going without meat for a day.

Now, if you think about fasting on face value, it all seems largely arbitrary.  The idea of fasting, whether it be part of Lent, or Ramadan, or a weekly observance involving being a pescetarian for a day, it all seems a bit arbitrary.  And that arbitrary nature can be traced right the way back to the Old Testament, to a time in which the people of God were in the wilderness, and God was giving them the commandments that they were to observe.  And of the commandments that God was handing down, a generous number of them had to do with what you are or are not allowed to eat.  If you're feeling adventurous, go ahead and check this out, and it'll tell you, based on Leviticus 11, what you are or are not allowed to eat.  Yes, that's right, you don't get to eat bat.  Or owl.  Guess Amanda will be delighted.



Now, these laws were put in place by God to set his people apart, to remind them that they were called to holiness, to be a bastion for him in an unfeeling, uncaring world.  In the same way as they were essentially the only monotheists in the area, they were also the only ones to abjure from the eating of pork, to divide the meat from the dairy, and the only ones to not eat bats.  Guess Alice Cooper won't be assuming the mantle of Judaism any time soon.

But as time wore on, people started to get the idea that avoiding pork, shellfish, ostrich, whatever, was a moral act in and of itself.  As though going without was better than having just by nature.

Fast forward to the here and now, and we have the same idea.  We get to thinking that over the lenten season, going without Chocolate is by itself a moral act.  But emptied of its significance, it means nothing at all.  There are basically two reasons to go without something.  First is simple, to remind yourself of the suffering of Christ, and to be cognizant of it all the time.  it's a good discipline to get into, to be aware of Christ's suffering all through Lent, or on Friday, or what have you, and to have that be a part of your life every day.  In the same way that keeping Kosher reminds the Jewish individual every day, at every meal, heck at every snack, that they are set apart by God as chosen people.

Secondly, though, things get a bit more nebulous, and this is where we fail.  The Old Testament reading from Sunday is about fasting, and it talks about the type of fast desired by God.  The fast desired by God is not just a going without, though.  It's not just you shrugging your shoulders, and not having what you might otherwise have.  You see, the way we fast in the Protestant church is lot like the old gas boycott, which just delays our consumption of the good in question, but doesn't alter the underlying habits.  That is, if you're going without chocolate for Lent, the chocolate is still there, just hanging out in the closet.  It's in the pantry, waiting for your binge on Sunday, or on Easter, and the underlying habits are still the exact same as they always were.  But the Old Testament reading from Sunday makes clear that what is desired by God.

3 ‘Why have we fasted,’ they say,
    ‘and you have not seen it?
Why have we humbled ourselves,
    and you have not noticed?’

“Yet on the day of your fasting, you do as you please
    and exploit all your workers.
4 Your fasting ends in quarreling and strife,
    and in striking each other with wicked fists.
You cannot fast as you do today
    and expect your voice to be heard on high.
5 Is this the kind of fast I have chosen,
    only a day for people to humble themselves?
Is it only for bowing one’s head like a reed
    and for lying in sackcloth and ashes?
Is that what you call a fast,
    a day acceptable to the Lord?

6 “Is not this the kind of fasting I have chosen:
to loose the chains of injustice
    and untie the cords of the yoke,
to set the oppressed free
    and break every yoke?
7 Is it not to share your food with the hungry
    and to provide the poor wanderer with shelter—
when you see the naked, to clothe them,
    and not to turn away from your own flesh and blood?
8 Then your light will break forth like the dawn,
    and your healing will quickly appear;
then your righteousness[a] will go before you,
    and the glory of the Lord will be your rear guard.
9 Then you will call, and the Lord will answer;
    you will cry for help, and he will say: Here am I.

He wants your fast to have real, tangiable results in the real world.  In other words, going without is one thing, but what do you do with the thing you've given up?

For most of us, we either just hide it in the pantry, or just go without buying it for the 40 days of lent, and no harm done.  But imagine, if you will, buying the chocolate that you would have been eating, and giving it away.  I gave up ketchup a few years ago, and all I did was not buy ketchup for Lent.  It was terrible and hard, because I love Ketchup more than I love my parishoners, but I went without it.  And
in the process, I just steered clear.  I didn't use my ketchup budget to become more charitable.  And I should have.

In other words, in the Christian experience, there should be no giving up without giving out.  There ought to be no fasting without an equal and opposite charitable reaction.  when you give something up, there is no neutral space, so what do you do with that space and time that you now have?  As usual, the best guide for this is Jesus Christ himself, who committed the ultimate fast.  He fasted not just of what we fast of, chocolate, dessert, wine, ketchup, all that, he fasted first of the heavenly pleasures, then of his work, then of his friends, his clothing,his life.  And what happened to all that stuff?  It was all given away.  It was given to us.

In the fasting of Christ, nothing that he gave up was just given out to the ether, it was given to us. We were direct beneficiaries of his sacrifices, and his fasting. Whatever he was giving up, he was also giving it out.  This began with his departure from Heaven, and culminated with his suffering on the cross, in which he fasted from life itself, not just giving it up, but giving it out.  Giving it out to us.  We were beneficiaries of his sacrifices, and people who delighted in receiving what he had given up.

But you don't think of it as fasting, do you?  You don't think of the work of Christ as fasting, though you probably should.  And you don't think of your own charity as fasting, though you ought to do that as well.  Whenever you give something away, you are fasting of it.  Whenever you give something to the food bank, you are fasting from that item - you are not eating it, so someone else can.  Whenever you give up clothing, you are fasting from it, and donating it to someone else who can use it.  Whenever you contribute to charity, or buy something for someone who needs it, or give up any of your valuable resources, you are fasting.  And that's the best kind of fasting of all, because it meets the needs that God has put into place in the Old Testament.  What kind of fasting does God want?  The kind that break the yoke of the oppressed, that sets the captives free, that feeds the poor, and so on.

In other words, the type of fasting that God wants, is the fasting that he himself did in the person of Christ.  And thanks be to him that he fasted of his life, and instead of giving it up, gave it out.  To us.

PJ.