Essays on Eastern Orthodoxy
Faith, Works, Fasting, and Hand-Scooped Milkshakes
Essay on the Fast of the Dormition of the Theotokos
August 1 - 14
(Essay completed August 25, 2005)
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(Continued from p. 2.)
3. Then there is the secrecy issue. And once again we return to the Sermon on the Mount:
And whenever you fast, do not look dismal, like the hypocrites, for they disfigure their faces so as to show others that they are fasting. Truly I tell you, they have received their reward. But when you fast, put oil on your head and wash your face, so that your fasting may be seen not by others but by your Father who is in secret; and your Father who sees in secret will reward you. (Mt. 6:16-18)
It is certainly not my desire to disagree with Jesus, but I do want to point out that Jesus was not absolutely exhaustive on the subject of fasting. As Pope Gregory the Great (that's the Gregorian Chant guy) makes so clear in his writings on pastoral care, there is almost always two sides to the coin of life. Such is the case with fasting. A lengthy section of his treatise on pastoral care is dedicated to describing the two sides of the coin of life in everyday spiritual direction. Two children, for instance, steal cookies from the cookie jar. One is stricken with feelings of guilt and despair while the other is completely carefree and even boldly lies about his sin. The one child primarily needs comfort while the other needs discipline. Both are contextual responses to the same sin. Severly disciplining the despairing child would be as wrong as letting the coniving child off the hook with no consequences.
In Jesus' day fasting was a given. Jewish religion had a great number of prescribed fasts and these fasts, while not kept by everyone, were publicly recognized as part and parcel of faith in God. In this context, the primary concern was the pride that can easily grow out of maintaining a fasting discipline.
But sloth, far more than pride, is at the heart of the issue today. In our day the discipline of fasting is suspect. Real Protestants don't work by fasting, they rest, by faith, in the grace of God. While this underlying attitude grows out of the Reformation sensibilities of 15th century Europe, it has taken on a rather different character in 20th and 21st century America. Hardworking, thrifty, and prudent America has turned into rich America, fast food America, sit in front of our t.v. for entertainment America, buy whatever strikes our fancy with the credit card America. In this context of decadence and decline, not talking about fasting at all is tantamount to acquiescing to a culture that mostly despises and largely rejects self-discipline, and especially the sort of self-discipline prescribed by the Apostles as necessary for our salvation.
Thus, in this day and age, according to the principles set out by that wise leader of the church, Gregory the Great, silence and secrecy is not good for the health of a slothful church. So it is I feel it important to say as part of my record of the last few months, that somewhere along the line in my ongoing immersion into Eastern Orthodoxy, I began to keep the fasts in a rather halting and clumsy way. I started with Wednesdays and Fridays, and after a month of that, committed myself to the two weeks of the Dormition Fast. Did I pray more? No, I can't say I did. Did I give alms? Well, not exactly. Did I eat less and abstain from certain foods? Well, I did better on that front, but there was still the occasional #2 from the McDonalds Value Menu and Peach flavored, hand-scooped milk shakes from Hardees. In short, I have nothing to be proud of on the fasting front.
4. But, fasting has done two significant things for me in spite of the seeming failures. First, because of the nature of Orthodox fasting, it requires a great deal of forethought in modern American society. We bought a meatless cookbook called Food for Paradise, compiled by St. John the Russian Church in Ipswich, MA. Each week we would choose a main dish for Wednesday's and Friday's dinner and then go to the grocery story to purchase all the necessary ingredients. (Believe me—the typical American pantry does not lend itself to a meal free of meat, dairy, fish, and oil!) One night I was watching Good Eats (my favorite cooking show on television) and the show was all about tofu. Normally I would have watched strictly for the entertainment value, but suddenly, in this new context, I sat up and took notice. Tofu is “legal,” after all, in the fasting discipline.
In other words, paying attention to the fast requires me to reorder what's significant and important in my life; it requires me to pay attention instead of just floating through life in a haphazard way. I suppose that eventually, after we get the hang of how to cook meatless and become accustomed to the ebb and flow of Wednesdays and Fridays, I won't have to pay attention like I do now. By way of illustration, I like to cook. A couple of years ago I got serious about Indian cooking. For the first year I had to pay very close attention to the recipes, double check my shopping list, and do everything exactly like Madhur Jaffray said in her cookbook. But after a while I began to get the hang of it. I learned and understood the philosophy of how spices work together in Indian cooking. I began to get the feel for when to fry quickly or to slow cook over low heat. Now, much of my cooking has a distinctly Indian character even when I'm not trying to create an Indian meal. I don't have to think about it anymore because it has become a natural part of my cooking repertoire. I suspect that eventually a similar thing will happen with the fasting discipline. It will become a natural part of the way life works; it will be easy to throw together a meatless, dairy-less, oil-less, fish-less meal that tastes good.
In a very real sense, I am not looking forward to that day because it means I won't have to pay attention like I have to right now. I find that paying attention is good discipline.
The second thing fasting has done is put my Christian life into a rather different perspective. Every Wednesday and Friday (and for longer periods of time at various times of the year), I am reminded just how powerful my passions are. A Hardee's Thickburger always sounds much more appetizing on Wednesday and Friday than on other days of the week. Who would have guessed that Hardee's would become such a vital part of my spiritual life? The devil, on the one hand, and “faith, hope, and love” on the other, are such nebulous ideas. Sure, I'm against the devil and for “faith, hope, and love,” but without something more specific, it's hard to figure out just how they relate to my Christian life. But, that irrational desire for a hamburger and milkshake remind me in an oh-so-physical and undeniable way that my passions still rage within me. My love for God is not pure; I am still trying to serve two masters. This oh-so-physical weekly reality makes true repentance (in contrast to a nebulous, “Sorry God,” possible. And there is something more disconcerting: This new reality makes it much more difficult to deny those times when I'm not interested in repenting at all. Back when my spirituality didn't involve things as physical and mundane as not eating meat, dairy, fish, oil, and alcohol on Wednesday and Friday, I was able to successfully rationalize my lack of interest in repentance. But, when my desires are passionately flailing about, seeking something to eat, buy, possess, or think about it's much more difficult to deny the need for repentance.
(Continued on p. 4.)
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