“…in fastings often”

To an outsider, the Orthodox Church’s attention to the discipline of fasting often appears, well, odd at best. To the casual inquirer, it may seem overdone and inconvenient to “modern lifestyles.” To the critic, it is evidence of “ritualism” or “works righteousness” or “human traditions.” The non-Orthodox may look at the practice with incredulity, wondering how or why an Orthodox Christian would “submit” to such “regulations.” I probably would have asked the same question at one time, but fortunately, have since had the blessing of finding historical Christianity and the benefits of following the Church of Jesus Christ in this practice.

Biblically, it cannot be denied that fasting was to be part of the Christian’s life. It has a rich tradition in Israel, and Jesus carries on the tradition, even explicitly saying that his disciples would fast after he was gone, and giving instructions on the practice. St. Paul speaks of “fasting often,” and of not being enslaved to food and drink. The first-century Church fasted frequently, and we are told of specific fasts undertaken before the beginning of various missionary works or ordinations. The Church fathers subsequently reveal the continued insistence on the benefit of spiritual fasting in the life of the Body of Christ.

I have listened to people who criticize fasting as “self-imposed religion” (“..do not touch, do not taste,” etc., Col. 2), and it strikes me that such people are simply looking for a way to further their own recent traditions rather than to listen to the historical Faith. Is it really possible that after such a rich tradition of fasting in both Israel and the early Church, not to mention Christ’s own positive words regarding it, that St. Paul is beginning to proclaim that Christian fasting is even worse than useless? Such superficial arguments uncloak a haste to find fault with the Church’s history and spiritual practices, and an unwillingness to ask genuine questions for the sake of mutual understanding.

I have also heard Orthodoxy’s rigorous schedule of fasting criticized with a basic question: “What right do those men (i.e., Bishops or Presbyters) have to impose all those man-made rules on you!!?” I guess it is assumed that the authority wielded by the bishops/presbyters of the Church is really no authority at all, or perhaps pertains only to which flowerbed to replant, or maybe only when preserving existing rules (God forbid that they make any new ones for the sake of helping the Christian flock under them to grow deeper in Christ). In my own background, it was argued that we had to attend church services on Wednesday nights “because that’s what the elders have decided is best for the church.” But, where is this command found in the “Bible only”? Aren’t such “rules” or “schedules” in any ecclesial group given, hopefully, in the effort to help the flock (not just in a legal adherence to mere verbal forms)? Would Christians in other backgrounds — who reject the right of bishops to schedule regular fasting — insist also that their elders have no right to instruct anything but the mere quotation of New Testament Scripture? Will they denounce regulated church attendance on Wednesday and Sunday nights? Such is a rather distorted and superficial view of the biblical and historical mandate given to the Church’s shepherds to actually shepherd, and results in sheep who wield a staff just as large as any bishop’s.

It may come as a surprise to many that fasting in Orthodox parishes is not regulated with an iron fist. My impression from the time I’ve spent in Orthodoxy is that while the Church sets forth the Tradition and specifics of fasting “with the church” (it helps to know that I am not just fasting, but fasting along with my brothers and sisters on specific days and for certain things), fasting is regarded as a very personal discipline, as well. I’ve yet to see someone “judged” in my church for not keeping the fast “just so,” and my presbyter has emphasized that fasting is meant to be helpful, not simply strict rule-keeping that we follow without variations that may be needed at times. Also understood are various levels of keeping the fasts. Nursing mothers quite obviously would not keep much of the fast at all, if any, along with diabetics, etc. Monks and priests might keep it rigorously, while a doctor going into surgery needs to forgo the fast to get his protein and energy. Fasting is done with the Church, but not under the bishops’ thumbs. It is a loving practice meant to help us, not to “hold us down,” and those of us IN Orthodoxy know this, attacks from uninformed, external critics notwithstanding.

I’ve also seen the shock on peoples’ faces when they discover that Orthodox fast for roughly half the year. They almost appear to wonder how we stay alive. Trust me, while I may have seen less obesity in Orthodoxy (fried chicken is not quite as common in Athens or Jerusalem as in Nashville or Augusta), we have no trouble keeping our middles well tended. See, fasting in Orthodoxy is rarely total fasting; it is normally abstinence only from certain foods, a practice which reminds one during the day of the spiritual dimension to daily life. On Wednesdays (the day of the betrayal) we fast meats, dairy products, and wine/olive oil, with similar practice on Fridays (the day of the crucifixion). These weekly fasts help us to keep not only our minds, but also our bodies, in tune with the spiritual realities of the Christian Faith. Other larger fasts throughout the year correspond to our remembrance of various events in the history of God’s relationship with mankind.

We do not believe there is anything wrong with food, nor that giving up food is somehow “more spiritual” than accepting God’s gifts of food to us. Bishop Kallistos Ware writes:

This effort to purify the passions needs to be carried out on the level of both soul and body… Knowing that man is not an angel but a unity of body and soul, the Orthodox Church insists upon the spiritual value of bodily fasting. We do not fast because there is anything in itself unclean about the act of eating and drinking. Food and drink are, on the contrary, God’s gift, from which we are to partake with joy and gratitude. We fast, not because we despise the divine gift, but so as to make ourselves aware that it is indeed a gift — so as to purify our eating and drinking, and to make them, no longer a concession to greed, but a sacrament and means of communion with the Giver. Understood in this way, ascetic fasting is directed not against the body but against the flesh. Its aim is not destructively to weaken the hbody, but creatively to render the body more spiritual. (The Orthodox Way, p. 116; this is perhaps one of the best books I have ever read, and highly recommend it)

I can attest to the benefits of fasting throughout the Church’s Calendar. Fasting during Advent helps me to appreciate more the Incarnation, as I associate myself with the suffering of and expectant, suffering Israel. Fasting during Great Lent brings me to Holy Week broken, repentant, and makes Pascha all the more glorious (Christos Anesti!). The practice has helped me to submit my entire self, body and mind, to our Lord. It has begun to reveal weakness and shortcomings that I have and of which I was previously unaware. Fasting has the uncanny ability to allow interior problems and sins to come bobbing to the surface. Critics tend to judge fasting from outside of the Church’s practice (they would do well to remember St. Paul’s injunction to not judge those who refrain from eating certain foods “unto the Lord”), but those within Orthodoxy who adhere in some degree or fully to the Church’s ancient Tradition have a knowledge of the goodness of the practice that cannot come only from prooftexting and critical nitpicking.

If you are interested in reading more about fasting, I’d recommend the following.

Fasting in Orthodox Spirituality (Fr. Thomas Hopko)