Photo by John Brundage

“Sir, give me this water, so that I may not be thirsty or have to keep coming here to draw water” (John 4:15).

“Why spend your money for what is not bread;

your wages for what does not satisfy?

Only listen to me, and you shall eat well,

you shall delight in rich fare” (Isaiah 55:2).

Why do Christians fast? What purpose does voluntarily going without food serve? 

Hunger is unpleasant, even painful. The gnawing, inescapable discomfort stirs up anxiety, discouragement, and a desperation that builds over time. The lack of nourishment leaves us lethargic and foggy. It’s as if the body thinks to itself, “We didn’t get enough, and we might not get enough.” In this state, the body will do everything in its power to harass and disrupt us until our number one priority is nourishment.

Since the earliest days of Christianity, theologians have found Greek philosophy helpful for illustrating our ideas. One of Plato’s most famous and relatable thoughts was his comparison between a body and a well ruled city state. Plato believed our soul had three parts: the appetites, the passions, and the intellect. The intellect mirrors the king, who rules over the military and the citizens, i.e., the passions and the appetites. 

As anyone in authority eventually discovers, leaders have a thankless task: the best decisions and most necessary changes are often the least popular. People love comfort, and they hate change, even when they know it’s needed. Whether you’re leading yourself or a group of people, you must strike a delicate balance between making the best decisions and satisfying your constituents. Move too quickly, even if it’s in the right direction, and people will rebel. Chicken out on too many tough but necessary judgment calls, and things will collapse.

How many times have you bit off more than you could chew with a new diet or exercise routine? How many times have you picked up a new hobby and, after a few days or weeks of thrilling excitement, dropped it altogether? Plato would say that your intellect made an executive decision without the buy-in of your appetites and passions. Worse, if you’ve ever suffered from an addiction or obsession, you know that the appetites and passions are capable of launching an overwhelming assault on the intellect to seize power for themselves. You’ve experienced what mob rule or a military dictatorship does to a country.

This doesn’t usually happen overnight. It happens through a long process of indulgence and corruption. Like spoiled children, the more we give our appetites, the more they think they need. Fasting checks this devolution. It calls our appetite’s insane bluff that a perfectly healthy adult always needs three meals a day, or that twenty minutes in the waiting room will be intolerably boring if I don’t spend the whole time scrolling through Instagram. When we fast, we will often face an initial period of discomfort. But if we push through this plateau, a serene clarity of mind and calmness of spirit will set in. Like any skill, if we make fasting a habit, it will become easier. Over time, the body will learn that it can’t always bully us into giving it more food than it needs. 

These benefits were clear to philosophers and mystics long before Christianity. And today, even in our secular consumerist culture, we’ve seen a surge of enthusiasm for what appears to be fasting’s overwhelming health benefits. But as amazing as fasting can be for growth in discipline and for health, the primary benefit is spiritual. When we hunger or experience any sort of craving, our flesh seeks comfort, pleasure, and security. While food and entertainment can meet these needs to a degree, they will ultimately leave us dissatisfied. Only God will satisfy our hunger. Fasting when it isn’t done for macho, ego-driven purposes, puts us in touch with our dependence, fragility, and incompleteness. If we allow it, we will see that these ultimately point to our need for God. In turn, we also realize that the hunger we feel is ultimately a hunger for God. When we realize that, we are empowered to stop compulsively chasing after worldly comfort and start freely running after what truly satisfies.

Do you fast? What is one way that you can do so this week? Check with your doctor if you suffer from diabetes or any health problems related to food. If you have it all clear, fasting is an invaluable and vastly underused spiritual practice. Like any discipline, it’s usually a good idea to start small. Perhaps you could cut just one meal out of your day at first. Or if that’s too much, you could simply make two of your meals smaller. Find out what works for you, and make it a regular practice. May God bless you on your journey to freedom!

John Brundage is a seminarian with the Companions of the Cross. He also writes a Substack Newsletter called Integrated Prayer.