6. The foundation of asceticism and spiritual spring
Fasting is synonymous with asceticism, and its foundation. Without the small feat of abstinence we cannot learn to control ourselves. However, asceticism is not an end in itself, but only a tool, a means to attain the highest goal—union with God.
The Church teaches us to consider fasting as a crucial period when we look especially closely at the state of our souls. It is a time of spiritual vigilance, when we stand guard over our own hearts. In everyday life, we often limit ourselves to maintaining external order in our souls, trying to avoid obvious sins and gross violations. But there comes a time when such superficial care is no longer enough—something more is needed, something deep and thorough.
Fasting is meant to be a time of fundamental transformation of the whole inner order. Everything that has been rundown in us needs renewing; everything that has been loosened needs strengthening; and everything that has led us away from God must be abandoned resolutely. It is precisely this comprehensive work on ourselves that fasting is called to do. These are not superficial improvements, but a genuine transformation of the mind, the renewal of the soul, and the restoration of the lost harmony in it that was granted to man at creation.
It is no coincidence that the Holy Fathers refer to fasting as the “spiritual spring.” As nature throws off its winter shackles, as all living things stretch out and reach for the light, so the human soul, freed from the burden of pleasures and attachments, gets the opportunity to straighten up, purify itself and blossom for prayer and good deeds. Spring is always the beginning of a new life, and fasting gives us this opportunity, opening the way to Paschal joy—the joy that does not depend on external circumstances, but is born in the depths of a purified and renewed heart.
7. Cleansing the Heart and Dying a Little for the Sake of Meeting God
And here we are coming to the most important meaning, which often escapes us in the hustle and bustle of everyday life. Fasting is a conscious abstinence from everything that separates us from God. The Holy Fathers teach us to distinguish between two kinds of things that we are called to renounce: the unnatural and the natural. The unnatural is sin in all its forms: malice, judging, lust, lies and everything that is contrary to our original nature, created in the image of God. The natural is what is given to us for sustaining life: food, drink, sleep, and physical rest. And if we must renounce sin always and irrevocably, then in fasting we voluntarily limit ourselves in natural things—in food, pleasures and comfort. But what for? Not just to wear out our bodies, but for the sake of the highest goal: to clear up the inner space of our souls to meet the Living God.
The human heart can be compared to a room. Imagine a house littered up to the ceiling with old furniture, chests, and unnecessary things. It’s impossible to live in such a room: there’s nowhere to turn, and it’s stuffy and dark in it. Similarly, our hearts are cluttered for years with the junk of pleasure, the furniture of empty worries, the debris of resentment and the dust of vanity. We get used to living alongside this garbage and no longer notice that there is no room in the house for the Owner Himself. Fasting is a time of “spring-cleaning”. We begin to take out of our hearts everything superfluous—everything that occupies a place that rightfully belongs to God alone. And when the room is gradually cleared up, when the noise and fuss subside, we suddenly hear a gentle knock on the door. This is the One Who has been standing at the door for a long time and waiting for us to invite Him inside:
Behold, I stand at the door, and knock: if any man hear My voice, and open the door, I will come in to him, and will sup with him, and he with Me (Rev. 3:20).
Fasting opens the door, and Christ enters a purified heart.
But for the spring-cleaning to be thorough it takes more than just avoiding non-fasting food. We need a decisive change in the very direction of our souls. In the Patristic tradition we find an amazing and even somewhat frightening comparison: fasting is likened to voluntary dying. Of course, it is not about physical death, but about an inner exodus—the determined abandonment of the range of worries and chores that usually fills our consciousness. In a sense, entering into the fast we take ourselves by the hand and with an effort bring our minds out of the daily whirl. We stop the endless running of thoughts about daily and temporal things—and direct our inner gaze to where time meets eternity.
And then an absolutely different perspective opens before our spiritual gaze. We begin to reflect on the things there is almost no time to think about in the hustle and bustle of everyday life: our last hour, which will one day come for everyone; the Judgment at which everything secret will be revealed; the retribution awaiting the righteous and sinners alike; and the standing before Christ, which awaits us beyond the grave. These reflections are not gloomy—they are salvific. They sober up the soul, lulled by comfort, and remind it of the most important thing. Fasting half-opens the veil between the temporal and the eternal, allowing us already here on earth to catch if only a glimpse of the reality we are all heading for.
And this voluntary abandonment of the world, this temporary detachment from its joys and attachments, can indeed be called dying a little. We die to vanity to come alive for Christ; we die to verbosity to be born for prayer; and we die to gluttony to rise again for thanksgiving. This “dying a little” does not frighten us, but gladdens us, because it is followed by resurrection and the Paschal rejoicing of the soul, which has been freed from the burden of the earthly and has met with the Heavenly. Fasting becomes the blessed dying, without which the soul cannot be revitalized for eternal life.
This is the ultimate aim of fasting: not just purification, not just abstinence, but living communion with God, and knowledge of Christ and the Holy Trinity. When the mind is freed from the intoxication of satiety, and when the heart stops clinging to earthly things, then we become able to contain grace. Purity of heart is not an abstract concept, but a precondition for seeing God, as the Gospel says: Blessed are the pure in heart: for they shall see God (Mt. 5:8). Fasting leads us to this purity, which opens the door to contemplation of the One Who is the Source of all life, all joy, and all existence. Fasting is a path whose end is not emptiness, but fullness; not death, but eternal Pascha in Christ Jesus our Lord.
The Fullness of Christian Life
How multifaceted and deep holy fasting is! It stretches through the history of salvation: from the first days of Paradise, where it was given as a commandment of obedience, through the centuries of prophetic ministry, where it became a sign of closeness to God, to the fullness of time, when the Lord Himself sanctified it with His forty-day fasting in the wilderness. In it we find a weapon against the ancient tempter, which struck him back then, in the wilderness, and the opportunity to participate in Christ’s work by taking the small cross of abstinence on our shoulders, and the living anticipation of that everlasting Pascha, where there will be no more fasting or sorrow, but only never-ending joy in the Risen Savior.
However, while meditating on all these meanings, we must remember the main thing: physical fasting is only a means, not an end. We can live all the forty days of Lent on bread and water and remain empty unless our hearts change. Abstinence from food is pleasing to God provided that it is combined with refraining from sin. Dietary restrictions are not available to everyone—there are sick and infirm people, and there are special circumstances of life. But there is not a single person who has no opportunity to pray, repent, forgive others, and do good works. You don’t need good health or special external conditions for this—anyone can do it regardless of their position and age. And if a truly Christian disposition is gradually born in us—hatred for sin and love for others—then all our actions, including bodily abstinence, become proper, appropriate, and saving. Without this inner core even the strictest fasting turns into a futile diet.
Therefore, we must fast not only with our bodies, but also with our spirit. When limiting yourself in food, do not forget to nourish your soul with prayer and the Word of God. By refusing non-fasting food, do not give up almsgiving and good deeds. While cleansing the stomach, purify your heart from resentment, judging, and evil thoughts. Then fasting will not be a burden for us, but a joyful path to Christ. For He Himself is the only true Food that can satisfy the greatest hunger—the hunger of the human soul for its Creator (cf. Jn. 6:27, 55). He is the living bread which came down from Heaven (Jn. 6:35, 51). He that cometh to Me shall never hunger; and he that believeth on Me shall never thirst (Jn. 6:35). Let us strive for Him steadily, walking through the time of Holy Lent, in order to reach the radiant day of Resurrection and partake of the eternal Paschal joy in His Heavenly Kingdom.
