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Sunday of Easter April 28, 2002
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I checked several translations. It’s the same in each of them. I even
went back to the original language. No luck. It’s there too. Jesus
really did say, “When you fast.” I sure do wish he had said, “If
you fast.” That would make it a whole lot easier. But there’s
no mistaking it. It’s “when you fast.” It’s apparently
the normal, expected action of a disciple.
I really hate that. I wish I could avoid this section of the Sermon on the
Mount altogether. But I can’t. There it is as big as life staring me
in the face. Only three short verses, but oh how they confront me.
In order to have any credibility at all in preaching this message, I must
confess to you at the outset that I do not fast. Oh, I have fasted, certainly,
at different times but not regularly. This is not a part of my spiritual
discipline. But in the weeks that I’ve been thinking about this message
and preparing to preach from this passage, it seems that God has impressed
upon me, not in a negative way, but in a very positive way the value of
this discipline.
There is a gift here for me, and for you that we dare not resist. There
is a key here to somehow unlocking some of the deepest spiritual lessons
that we can learn in this life. God has been saying to me, and I think he
wants to say to all of us today, “You need this!”
We are working through the Sermon on the Mount, listening to what Jesus
would say to us about the marks of a true disciple. We come to this middle
part of chapter six, and we’ve heard that true discipleship has much
to do with the motive behind our acts of righteousness. He’s talked
to us about giving, about prayer, about forgiveness, and now about fasting.
Now I don’t know about you, but it seems to me that in a culture where
the landscape is dotted with shrines to the golden arches and an assortment
of pizza temples, fasting seems kind of out of place.
We make sport of eating out, literally. I was in Chicago last week and went
to a restaurant that is totally built around sports, whether watching games
on the screens or playing the games they have available there. It’s
not enough anymore just to serve food. We are so bored with food in our
culture you have to serve up a whole “dining experience” or people
won’t come. In fact, even in the church the whole idea of fasting has
fallen on rather hard times. When’s the last time you heard a sermon
on fasting? I checked. In the years that I’ve been preaching to you,
I’ve preached a message about fasting (in this setting) twice. I’m
sorry.
Richard Foster, who has done some excellent work in calling us to embrace
this discipline says that between 1861 and 1954 (nearly one hundred years)
not one book was published that dealt with fasting. This in spite of the
fact that in 1863 President Lincoln designated April 30th as a day of national
fasting and prayer. We remember his declaration of thanksgiving very well,
but not the fasting one. Let me read a portion of his proclamation on that
occasion. He said, “We have become too self-sufficient to feel the
necessity of redeeming and preserving grace, too proud to pray to the God
that made us. We have grown in numbers, wealth, and power as no other nation
has grown, but we have forgotten God.”
Sounds pretty contemporary, doesn’t it? The issue is, of course, much
bigger than going without food. That’s primarily what comes to mind
when we think about fasting, but even more than that fasting is about embracing
a posture of self-denial. That’s why it’s so difficult for us.
We don’t deny ourselves anything. We have quick and easy access to
virtually any comfort, any pleasure, any entertainment that we want. And
we are no doubt the poorer for it.
So these words of Jesus really sting. This whole idea of fasting that he
just assumes is part of the Christian’s life, penetrates and reveals
the lack of self-denial in our lives. Most serious followers of God have
embraced this discipline. The list of biblical persons who fasted reads
like a “who’s who” of scripture: Moses the lawgiver, David
the king, Elijah the prophet, Esther the queen, Daniel the seer, Anna the
prophetess, Paul the apostle, Jesus Christ the incarnate Son.
Truth is, the Old Testament prescribed only one public fast, on the Day
of Atonement, according to Leviticus 16. Later Jewish tradition developed
two others, but these were the only corporate fasts. There were, however,
personal voluntary fasts, and it is these individual fasts that Jesus seems
to have in mind and the disciples are assumed to participate in. The great
Christians through the centuries have fasted. I don’t know of anyone
who took the whole issue of self-denial more seriously than St. Francis.
Once, while he was recovering from an illness he had eaten a little chicken.
But after he regained his strength he entered the city of Assisi, and commanded
a certain brother who was with him to tie a rope around his neck and drag
him like a robber through the entire city. And if that weren’t enough
he commanded him to shout to the people in the streets, saying, “Behold
the glutton who has grown fat on the meat of chickens.” Now I wouldn’t
particularly recommend that style of discipleship and I’m not sure
Jesus did. Nevertheless St. Francis knew something about the deep connection
between self-denial and spiritual maturity.
Jesus knew that in the kind of world you and I live in, we are seduced as
distracted every day by that which this world would offer us for happiness,
pleasure, and comfort. In a world like that you don’t need God much.
Tonight in our study of the Lord’s Prayer we’re going to focus
on the petition, “Give us this day our daily bread.” Seems like
a useless prayer in a world where all you have to do is go down to grocery
store and get what you want. That’s why in a world of plenty, and in
a culture of excess (like ours) we desperately need to learn the spiritual
discipline of self-denial. It's a way of remembering that we depend on God
alone and draw all our strength and resources from him.
Someone said, “Christian fasting, at its root, is the hunger of a homesickness
for God.” That’s why Jesus makes the point that if folks do this
act of fasting in order to get some kind of public recognition, it’s
so distorted and wrong. Because the whole point is a hunger to know him
more deeply than ever before. And that happens in the quiet and isolated
places of our Christian journey.
The way of Jesus on this earth was a way of self-denial. Paul reminds us
in Philippians 2 that Christ, “Though being in very nature God, did
not consider equality with God something to be grasped, but made himself
nothing, taking the very nature of servant.”
Jesus said, “My whole purpose in coming was not to be served but to
serve and to give my life.” Self-denial. Self-sacrifice. It’s
one of the key marks of a true disciple. And one of the most important ways
to learn it is embrace times of fasting in our lives.
Now I know we tend to think of fasting as going without food and that certainly
is the primarily biblical meaning. But we can fast from anything. For example,
some of us ought to fast for a time from people. Have you ever thought about
fasting in that way? Some of us are so dependent on the interaction and
feedback of others that it takes us away from hearing clearly from god.
Perhaps in that case, we could see a lot of spiritual growth if at times
we would fast from people. We can fast from entertainment. Some in our congregation
have embraced the discipline of fasting from television for a time. Some
could fast from the telephone. Perhaps God would call you to fast from your
computer for a time so you can focus on him.
St. John Chrysostom said it well, “Do not let only your mouth fast,
but also the eye and the ear and the feet and the hands and all the members
of our bodies. Let the hands fast, by being free of greed. Let the feet
fast, by ceasing to run after sin. Let the eyes fast, by disciplining them
not to glare at that which is sinful. “Let the ear fast, by not listening
to evil talk and gossip. Let the mouth fast from foul words and unjust criticism.
For what good is it if we abstain from birds and fishes, but bite and devour
our brothers?”
As the prophet Joel said, “When you declare a holy fast, make sure
you rend your hearts and not just your garments.” That’s the sense
of Jesus’ words here. Don’t fast if it’s to prove to someone
your spiritual depth. Fast to listen to God. Fast to remember your dependency
on him. Fast to be sustained only by him. And the promise of Jesus is, “Your
Father, who sees what is done in secret will reward you.”
I guess what is remarkable to me about this teaching is the fact that Jesus
doesn’t make a big deal out of it. He just quietly assumes that it
will be a part of anyone’s life who seeks to be a serious disciple
of his. I believe that in this simple word, God has spoken to me and called
me to embrace this discipline in my life in a way that I really have not
in the past.
And because I’m your pastor, I need to help you embrace this discipline.
I know some in this congregation have known the disciplines self-denial.
They have much to teach us all. But I’d like to issue an invitation
to us all. It is, of course, the season of Lent. It’s a time set aside
for serious reflection and spiritual discipline as we prepare for Easter
by following closely the way of the cross.
I want to encourage each of us to find intentionally and purposefully ways
to practice self-denial. But on this coming good Friday I want to declare
in this congregation a holy fast to the Lord. We meet together that evening
for a Good Friday service. So how would it be if we agreed together to fast
at least our evening meal and instead come here to pray? Some might fast
two meals on Friday or others might fast the entire day. I won’t prescribe
how to do it, but could we approach that holy day with a collective intention
to deny our usual appetites and give ourselves, as Christ did, to the presence
of God in us and among us?
I am sure that there is much God would like to say to us if only we would
stop and listen.