Fasting As Healing Wounds
When we think of the word “fasting” during Lent, we typically think of food. But the original meaning is “to hold, guard or observe” a religious commitment. Throughout history, since eating food is one of the most basic human needs, disrupting the normalcy of meal times makes us feel our hunger, and coupling that with a spiritual meditation on one’s hunger for God can be a source of contemplation. But for us today, we’re often so busy between work and other activities that we eat without paying attention, a meal becomes an afterthought.
I’ve guided my theology students through a few meditations this year and many have reflected on how unusual and difficult it is for them to be in stillness and silence. Perhaps we, too, avoid stillness because we fear what will come up when we let ourselves simply be, such as hurt feelings or anxiety about the pain and suffering in our world? But what if that isn’t where we stay?
In today’s reading from the prophet Isaiah, we get a clear sense of what God wishes our fasting would look like. Instead of “sackcloths and ashes” God longs for us to free the oppressed, to feed the hungry, clothe the naked, shelter the unhoused, and God promises that when we do this, our “wound shall be quickly healed.” Maybe our fasting could look like this: Breaking the status quo by creating space to notice and listen to God’s voice in the cries of the marginalized, and then responding. When we hold fast to healing the wounds of Christ in the poor and oppressed, we also heal ourselves.
What is one small thing with great love you can do to create space to listen to God’s voice in the marginalized? How are you invited to respond?
Jessica Gerhardt