What Is Fasting? #
We read of the true meaning and spiritual purpose of fasting in the writings of one of the brightest apologists of Orthodoxy in the early 20th century — Bishop Mikhail (Semyonov).
What is fasting? Nowadays we hear many objections against fasting — often and from many directions. Why fast at all? “Not that which goeth into the mouth defileth a man, but that which cometh out of the mouth,” said the Lord. Yes, He said that — the very same Lord who fasted for forty days and who gave the commandment: “When ye fast, be not, as the hypocrites.” But allow me to begin speaking not from a churchly standpoint, but from a worldly one.
The question of fasting has been repeatedly examined in the field of medicine, and its observations offer much of interest. What does fasting do to the human body? As it turns out, the influence of fasting is profound: it extends not only to the purely animal functions of the body — digestion and the like — but also to the activity of the brain and the powers of the soul.
“By strengthening the will through abstinence,” writes one physician, “fasting strengthens the will also in another way — by improving the functions of the brain in general. It acts to clarify our understanding and perception, and it makes the sphere of the feelings more receptive to all that is good.”
And more recently, another physician named Guelpa published an entire book — highly relevant to this topic — in which he argues that abstinence from food is the best remedy for illnesses. The primary cause of disease, he says, is the excessive accumulation in the body of aged, worn-out cells and various byproducts of combustion and decay. The body constantly expels these harmful elements (through the kidneys, the skin, etc.), but toxins often still accumulate and become the cause of illness. Among the harmful elements in the body, by the way, is excessive fat. The noble tissues of the body, weighed down by fat, lose their ability to protect the body.
What is to be done? The best way to strengthen the body’s power in the struggle against the elements that poison it is fasting — abstinence from food. With the help of fasting, the body discards worn-out cells and replaces them with new ones. The result of fasting is an increase in mental clarity, and the elimination of pathological weakness of will (abulia, and so on). These medical observations are noteworthy in two respects. First, they are instructive in showing that fasting enhances the work of the mind and will. This means it strengthens the soul’s activity, makes it stronger, more energetic, more capable of contending with evil — which is what the first physician also stated.
Secondly, as is well known, Christian fasting has another dimension. It includes not only abstinence from food, but also abstinence from passions and a struggle against evil desires of the will — at the very least, refraining from sinful deeds.
Sins, the evil impulses of the will, are also a kind of illness. Here too, there are spiritual “toxins” at work. The soul accumulates the poisonous venom of sin. Abstinence — even outward abstinence, outward restraint from passion, anger, lust, and so forth — clearly provides the time and opportunity to expel from oneself the very venom of passion, to overcome the evil “toxins” of sin, to gain victory. And here is another illustration.
I recall a foreign novella titled The Four (The Four Devils). It features four gymnasts of astounding agility and muscular strength. And it turns out: the main condition of their strength was abstinence — extreme moderation and fasting, and not only in the sense of food. They had to eat little and guard themselves even from any thought that would weaken or stir the body. It was enough for one of them to give in mentally to the sin of intemperance — to mental lust or sinful romantic fantasies — and his muscles would weaken. The chain of the four strong men was broken, and the result was their destruction… The gymnasts perished because they betrayed the law of abstinence, the fast that gave them strength. This is from the realm of the physical. Strength is founded on abstinence. Fasting supports energy, motion, flexibility, and muscular tension.
But we have seen that strength of the mind is also tied to fasting. If that is so, then it is clear how necessary fasting must be in the life of the spirit, in the struggle with sin. We have already spoken of how fasting contributes to the destruction of sin’s power. Let us now summarize and expand upon it. The “muscles” of the spirit — if I may use such an expression — are closely connected with the muscles of the body. When the body is enfeebled by wine and excessive food, the spirit is likewise enfeebled. That is one reason why fasting — in the sense of abstinence from food — is necessary.
Further. The strength of passion is always connected to habit. Sin lives in the body as a nearly physical force. To set a temporary limit upon sin, to interrupt the stream of sin, means to help the soul expel the habit of sin — the microbes of sin that have taken root in the soul and exercise dominion over it. For this, fasting is needed as a discipline, a moral feat.
“To strive toward any ideal,” writes the physician Peskovsky, “one must first learn to overcome those base desires and passions which hinder its attainment — that is, to strengthen and temper one’s will. This is the very purpose served by fasting.”
Fasting is abstinence from a certain kind of food; from its very definition it is tied to a deliberate exercise of the will. Just as a muscle weakens from disuse, so even more does the will weaken if a person does not train it. The life of a man who lives in ease, satisfying every fleshly desire and whim, usually results in his losing the ability to resist various temptations — his will becomes weak. Conversely, want and constant self-denial in fleshly desires make a person stronger; they temper the will. Abstaining from a certain type of food — fasting in the narrow sense of the word — serves as just such a stimulus.
Fasting, in and of itself, is necessary for moral refinement. It is the first step toward salvation. The essence of all moral struggle in man lies in liberating the spirit from the bondage of the physical nature — the flesh. Sin has disrupted the balance between the two halves of man’s nature. That balance must be restored, and one of the means by which it is restored is fasting, which gives the upper hand to the spirit over the animal nature. From this, the commandment to fast follows naturally and necessarily: whoever wishes to escape slavery to the flesh must accept the law of abstinence.
Whoever wishes to become strong must strengthen himself through fasting. It is no coincidence that saints always prepared for any great endeavor by fasting. Moses fasted for forty days before receiving the tablets of the covenant. Even the All-Holy Himself fasted for forty days before going out into the world to proclaim the glad tidings of salvation.
But someone might object: granted, abstinence is necessary — but what does the type of food have to do with it? Does that mean we should simply eat less, rather than replacing meat with caviar and sweet pies? It goes without saying that if fasting consists only in replacing a meat-based meal with another rich and filling one, this is nothing but a mockery of the fast — a mockery of the Lord. For example, what are we to make of those who consider fish to be non-lenten and vodka to be lenten? Fish is non-lenten because it excites the body and harms the chastity of the soul. But isn’t anything that negatively affects the soul’s activity likewise to be considered non-lenten?
Everything that incites sin is non-lenten, and in this sense, a bottle of vodka is a sure violation of the fast. Whatever makes a person drunk, irrational, and prone to sin — all of that must be regarded as forbidden during the fast. Is not the drunkard more inclined to lust, quarrels, brawls, even to crime? A great number of crimes are committed in a state of drunkenness.
Thus, vodka is the most non-lenten of all beverages. But a caveat is needed here. The Old Believer tradition, thank God, seems not to have descended into that falsification of fasting in which meat is replaced with a refined and luxurious — only tastier — “non-meat” menu.
Moreover, we must remember that meat and fish are specifically called non-lenten because they are especially capable of abnormally and sinfully intensifying the activity of the flesh. It is not a whim or arbitrary invention that fasting involves not only a reduction of food, but also the elimination of certain kinds of it.
“Meat is more easily and fully transformed into blood and more quickly and strongly intensifies the energy of carnal life.” For this reason, “abstinence from meat,” V.S. Solovyov categorically states, “can undoubtedly be upheld as a general moral requirement.”
Not to mention that the consumption of animal food is inseparable from the shedding of blood — even if only animal blood — and this will always be considered an imperfection in the order of Christian life. People often say: “But after all, what is fasting? It’s not that important. We are guilty before God in much greater things — compared to those, this is a trifle.” Perhaps so — but let us consider whether we are guilty in greater things precisely because we allowed ourselves to sin in lesser ones. This, in fact, is where the first man began. According to Saint John Chrysostom, the commandment not to eat from the “tree of knowledge” was in fact a commandment of fasting. It was given in order to train man’s will. He violated it, broke communion with God, declared to the Lord that he did not wish to remain in His will, and considered “obedience to Him” a trivial matter. Let me recall what I said four years ago — and it matters that this was said four years ago:
Obedience to the Church in all her commandments has immense formative value: a person who is accustomed to obeying the Church in “small things” is more trustworthy in greater ones as well. And almost always, a person who is knowingly “unfaithful in little” tends to compromise in greater matters too.
This is something we Russians especially must remember. It is an undeniable fact that among us, the refusal to follow certain prescriptions of the Church — such as the commandment to fast — is nearly always the beginning of a falling away. In essence, whatever the outward form, it already constitutes a rupture with the tradition of the Church — a schism, a renunciation of full unity with the Church in all things. And once a man has decided that he may depart from the Church in this seemingly small matter, what is to stop him, a day later, from deciding that something greater is also “not so important”? He has made himself judge over himself — and a man is always indulgent toward himself. “Why did the old Russian people so fervently defend the letter during the reforms of Nikon?” asks Professor Klyuchevsky. It seems the main reason was this: they instinctively felt that the abandonment of the safeguarding of tradition would be the first step toward a far greater “decline” — the decline of faith itself — that once they violated a minor thing, they would inevitably slide further.
But is a sinful fast not possible? Is it not possible, by fasting, to “sin” rather than to do the work of God? Of course, it is possible. The Holy Fathers often speak of such false fasting. Fasting becomes a sin, and not a means to salvation, when a person regards fasting not as a tool for the healing of the soul — a preparation for moral struggle — but as a self-sufficient achievement, a merit before God. This view of fasting is a lie. People who insist on the external observance of pious rules and consider that alone to be their spiritual labor, without concern for inner transformation, are — in the opinion of St. John Cassian — like the scribes, “living under the law and not under grace.” Fasting is a “neutral thing,” meaning that it has no value in itself, but gains its worth from its consequences — as a path to virtue.
We set aside the days of fasting; they are special days with special foods and dietary rules, as people say. But is the essence of fasting only in this dietary regimen? What of the spiritual order, the general rhythm of life — has it changed or not? Yesterday, you allowed yourself anger, irritability, harsh words. Have you renounced these today? Has the moral direction of your day changed along with the food? No? Then is your fast not a mere distraction, an attempt to deceive God?
I know people who turned fasting and good deeds into blasphemous mockery. They fasted strictly and seriously, gave tithes of their possessions to the poor, but having done so, said to themselves: “Well then, I am not entirely naked before God. I have something to lean on, some defense. If I sin in other ways, God will forgive.” And so they calmly forgot the weightier matters of the Law: love, mercy, and truth. For them, the commandment of fasting became a sinful cover, a veil behind which they imagined they could hide from God’s wrath, all the while neglecting the commandment of love and spiritual struggle.
A man fasts “twice in the week,” lights candles, tithes mint and anise, and is satisfied with these small deeds. They become for him a refuge from the reproaches of conscience. He forgets the greater things in the law — love, service to neighbor — and yet reassures himself: I am not without merit before the Lord; I fast. And he confidently imagines that forty small good deeds will defend him when he is asked at the Judgment whether he kept love and faith. He clings to fasting as to a final straw, and his troubled conscience finds solace in it. This kind of ritualistic, merchant-like Christianity is a delusion. Comfort in the letter of the law leads to ruin. One must always remember, even while fasting, the words of that same John Cassian: “Love and mercy must be acquired through fasting.” The soul must be renewed in fasting; when one sees lenten food on the table, it should serve as a reminder of spiritual struggle — of the need to begin a “fast acceptable unto God,” not as the goal of asceticism, not as the essence of the true ecclesiastical “acceptable time and day of salvation” (Archimandrite Mikhail).
And one more word. Why forty days? Is it so much? Not at all. Forty years were required for Israel, wandering in the wilderness amid hunger and deprivation, to forget the fleshpots of Egypt and shed the sinful imprint that Egypt had left upon them.
We are in bondage to sin, and yet we desire to go — not merely to the promised land — but to meet the Risen One, to approach His Holy Mysteries. Is forty days truly too much to prepare for this? It is a good thing if, even by the end of the fast, we are able to emerge even a little from the stupor of sin, to gather our soul, to free ourselves from the noise of the street and from the enslavement to worldly affairs. More often than not, forty days prove not to be too long — but too short. At the end of the forty days, people are as unprepared to meet the Bridegroom coming at midnight as they were at the start of the Fast.