When You Fast
Embodied Meditation on Frailty and Death
This morning marks the second day of SEVEN, a week of fasting and prayer for a community of churches in the city of San Diego.
Fasting is like the annoying kid on the elementary school playground of Christian practices: it’s always there—tripping, poking, and unaware that most of the other kids are so much more likable and easy to get along with! Despite its unpopularity, particularly among affluent, overly busy, and slightly overly indulgent Christians of the late modern west, Jesus’s command persists, nestled within instructions on how to fast, with the assumption being that fasting is simply something we do, full stop.
When you fast, do not look somber as the hypocrites do, for they disfigure their faces to show others they are fasting. Truly I tell you, they have received their reward in full. But when you fast, put oil on your head and wash your face, so that it will not be obvious to others that you are fasting, but only to your Father, who is unseen; and your Father, who sees what is done in secret, will reward you. (Matthew 6:16–18, NIV)
That’s it. No explanations about what fasting does, no encouragements about how fasting cleanses toxins from our bodies, no promises of clarified perspective, certitude in direction, boosted prayer, or dissipation of mental fog, and no heavenly descriptions of glimpses of the Beatific Vision.
Simply, when you fast, do so secretly, so that Your Father who sees, will reward you.
"Fasting cleanses the soul, raises the mind, subjects one's flesh to the spirit, renders the heart contrite and humble, scatters the clouds of concupiscence, quenches the fire of lust, and kindles the true light of chastity." St. Augustine
Christian tradition and generations of brilliant Bible teachers have provided an array of compelling reasons for fasting, all of which aid in understanding the significance of abstaining from food for a few days as an act of worship. I leave you, dear reader, to Google, ChatGPT, church history, and your Bible apps for research and reflection on this wealth of resources.
After twenty-five years of this practice poking and tripping me up, I want to offer a personal perspective on fasting—one that is not theoretical or abstract but tangible and easy to remember. Of course, this explanation represents only one facet of a multifaceted diamond, but it is a particularly vivid and impactful reason, felt throughout the entire journey of a fast. From the first pang of hunger, through the headaches and waves of paralyzing weakness, to the extraordinary moment when food once again meets our tongue in holy communion with God, fasting is a deeply embodied experience of our absolute dependence on Him.
Fasting confronts us with our physical frailty and our immanent death.
I know. It’s a bit macabre. As we lay on the couch, weak with hunger, hoping we can make it to the next day without giving up, fasting is crucifying our delusional illusions about human optimization, physical prowess, and longevity. No matter our fitness protocols, consistency in our vegan-keto-carnivore-vegetarian-Mediterranean-pescatarian-trendy-diet-de-jour, our abstinence from alcohol and sugar, our rhythms of cold plunge and red light therapy, our vitamin A, B, C, D, & E supplementation—our physical bodies are becoming more frail, they will fail, and die.
Fasting creates a face to face confrontation with the runaway freight train of our ultimate end. Fasting is a whole being, embodied meditation on our frailty and certain death, and that is a holy, sacred, and very good thing.
Feel This As You Fast
Your frailty. Meditate on the weakness of your body. Allow the weakness to wash over you. As you sink into the couch, or steady yourself from a dizzy spell, or endure a headache, be humbled. Remember that from dust we came and we are fragile creatures whose entire existence is utterly dependent upon the will of our God.
Memento Mori. Remember your death. The Psalmist exhorts,
“Teach us to number our days, that we may gain a heart of wisdom.” (Psalm 90:12, NIV)
There is a rich history of “death meditation” in the Christian tradition that encourages us to reflect often on our end. Fasting fast forwards our bodies and minds to that ultimate moment of surrender and embodied trust.
Savor every flavor with fullness of joy. When you conclude the fast pray for strength not to binge but to intentionally, slowly chew your choice of food and discern every flavor as a kind gift from your Father who sustains you with such miraculous things. I can assure you, there is a universe of flavors in dry toast with sliced tomato if you haven’t eaten for a few days and that simple combo can bring delight beyond your wildest imagination.