What Does Fasting Mean?

Fr Dr. Andria Saria

Great Lent is Fasting with a capital “F.” It is so important that when people

used to say “the Fast,” they automatically meant Great Lent. If they meant another

fast, they had to explain which one.

Even the church services are different during Great Lent. The whole

atmosphere changes. For example, during the Fast of Saints Peter and Paul, the

services are almost the same as usual. The same is mostly true for the Dormition

Fast and the Nativity Fast. During the Dormition Fast, there are a few special

prayers added at Vespers and Matins, but the basic structure of the service stays the

same.

Great Lent, however, feels completely different. Even the prayer “Lord, have

mercy” is sung in a different tone, because the spiritual mood is different. For

Orthodox Christians, even prayer itself feels different in church and at home during

this season.

If we speak about fasting, it is helpful to speak about its origin.

Fasting already had meaning in the Old Testament. The Jewish people fasted

twice a week, on Tuesday and Thursday. Early Christians were sometimes

criticized and told, “You do not fast, but the Jews do.” Even Christ was asked why

His disciples did not fast. His answer was short: “As long as the Bridegroom is

with them, they do not need to fast. When He is taken away, then they will fast.”

He was speaking about His physical presence. After Christ’s Ascension, the

Church established fasting on Wednesday and Friday, beginning in the second

century.

The history of the Lenten fast before Easter is especially meaningful. At

first, it had a missionary purpose. In the beginning, the forty days were kept mainly

by non-Christians—pagans—who wanted to become Christians and be baptized.

In the early Church, most people who were baptized were adults. There were not

many Christian families with children yet. In the Book of Acts, we read about one

example of an entire household being baptized, but usually it was adults who came

to the faith.

A person preparing for baptism did not prepare only by reading books or

attending lectures, as often happens today. Preparation meant that their soul had to

become united with the Christian spirit. It was a time of struggle, prayer, action,

and fasting.

Imagine this: you are a Christian, and you meet your neighbor—let’s call her

Nino—who is not yet baptized. You speak to her about the Gospel and about

Christ. She listens and accepts the message with her heart. She decides she wants

to be baptized and even chooses the date.

In the early Church, baptisms did not happen at any time, as they often do

today. They were celebrated only a few times a year—at the end of the Nativity

Fast, on Holy Saturday before Easter, and on several other special days.

So Nino begins to fast in preparation for her baptism because you told her about

Christ and about fasting. Now imagine that she comes to your house, and on your

table is a perfectly cooked steak. You are speaking about Christianity and fasting

while eating this beautiful steak. Meanwhile, she is hungry because she is fasting.

When Christians realized how painful and unfair this felt, they decided to fast

together with those preparing for baptism. Great Lent was born among Christians

as a fast of solidarity, a fast of love and support for those who were coming to

Christ.

Research today even shows that fasting can increase alertness, improve

mood, and support mental clarity. But in the Church, fasting is not only about

personal benefit. It became a time not just to pray for ourselves, but to pray for

those who want to come to the Church and to help them enter into communion

with Christ.

In the very early period, Christians themselves fasted only during Holy

Week—the week before Easter. That is why even today the Lenten season has two

parts: the forty days and Holy Week. In a way, Holy Week is not simply part of

Great Lent; it is a different spiritual dimension.

We can say it like this: The first forty days are the time when we go to meet

Christ. Holy Week is the time when Christ comes to meet us.

He comes through suffering, through betrayal, through the Mystical Supper,

through the way of Golgotha, through His descent into death, and finally through

the Resurrection. In His Resurrection, He breaks every barrier that once stood

between us and God.

After this, the Fast of Saints Peter and Paul was established.

If we open The Apostolic Tradition by Hippolytus of Rome, a work from the third

century, we find a very interesting explanation of how this fast began. He writes

that if someone was not able to keep the fast of Holy Week before Easter, that

person should fast on the Sunday after the fiftieth day following Easter.

The idea behind this rule was simple.

In the second and third centuries, there was not yet a common date for

celebrating Easter among Christians. The Church of Alexandria celebrated

according to its own calendar. The Church of Rome had its own calculation. Other

Christian communities used different systems as well. Each calculated Pascha in its

own way.

This gave pagans a reason to criticize Christians. They would say, “How can

it be that you do not even know the date of your most important feast? Why do you

celebrate it at different times?”

For this reason, in the fourth century, the First Ecumenical Council of

Nicaea established a common way to determine the date of Easter for all

Christians. But imagine what happened before that decision.

Let us say a Christian was traveling. In Alexandria, Easter was going to be

celebrated on April 20. He planned his journey so that he would arrive in Rome by

April 15, fast for the remaining five days, and celebrate Easter there on April 20.

But when he arrived, he discovered that in Rome Easter had already been

celebrated on April 10. Now he had missed both the fast and the feast. He missed

the spiritual experience and the joy of the Resurrection.

At that time, there were no newspapers, no printed church calendars that you

could buy in a store. This was the third century. Even today, in the age of the

internet, it can sometimes be difficult to confirm information. Imagine how hard it

was then.

If someone lived in a distant village and had to leave their local church to

travel, it was extremely difficult. Today I can search online and find the nearest

church. I can even learn who the priest is, where he studied, and what he has done.

But in the third century Christians did not have this luxury.

They were persecuted by the government. They worshiped in hidden places

and underground gatherings. If you asked the wrong person where Christians were

meeting, both you and they could be arrested or killed. During times of

persecution, believers were extremely careful. Even the apostles themselves hid

before Christ strengthened their hearts.

So if you arrived in a new city, you could not easily find the Christian

community. Saint Hippolytus explains that someone might have been sick, or a soldier,

or prevented in some other way from keeping Holy Week. If a person could not

fast before Easter, they were instructed to fast on the Sunday after the fiftieth day

—that is, after Pentecost. For them, this would become a kind of Paschal

experience, so that they could share in the same joy as everyone else.

Later, the same thing happened that we described about the forty-day fast.

Christians began to think, “How can my brother fast while I do not?” And

gradually this fast became common for everyone. Similar stories exist about the

Dormition Fast and the Nativity Fast.

It is important to understand that the Church’s fasts are not simply private

spiritual exercises. They are a shared effort. They express unity and solidarity.

Through fasting together, we feel our connection with one another.

Of course, a person can fast privately at any time. Monastics often fast more

strictly and feel comfortable doing so. But there is one important rule: the Church

forbids fasting on Easter. Pascha is a time of joy and celebration. How can

everyone celebrate while you alone are mourning? That would not be right.

So yes, a Christian may fast at any time—but not on Easter.

The most beautiful form of fasting is when Christians fast together. They

understand one another. They share one another’s prayers. They feel that they are

walking the same spiritual path.

Now, let us return to the main question: What is fasting in its true essence?

The word fasting in Georgian and in Latin carries two meanings. It refers to a time

of abstinence, but it can also refer to a guarded place — like a watch post or even a

tomb, a protected space. It is like a soldier standing on duty, watching carefully

from above or from a hidden place.

The meaning suggests protection, guarding, preserving. Fasting is not only

about food; it is about guarding the soul. A person must protect and watch over

their soul.

No matter our age or gender, we are soldiers of Christ. Each of us has been

given something extremely holy — our soul — and we are entrusted with

protecting it.

Saint Macarius of Egypt calls the human soul the most precious thing we

possess in this world. Our soul is so valuable that the Creator of the universe came

into this world to save it.

It is astonishing: people are ready to kill one another over a small piece of

land, over money, over oil, over business control, over markets and profit. Nations

are ready to drop bombs over economic interests. Christ reminds us: even if you

gain all these things, what is their value if you lose your soul — the very reason

God came into the world?

I am not saying material things are unimportant. I am speaking about

comparison. Is a small piece of land worth the price of a human soul?

Often, the more aggressive a person is in defending external possessions, the more

childish and careless they may be in guarding their own soul. The Church calls us

to stand watch over our soul and not allow evil to enter.

Sin does not enter suddenly. It enters slowly.

Sometimes it feels like a fast-forwarded video. When you watch something

at high speed, you miss many details. In the same way, when someone commits a

terrible act, it may look sudden: “He was living normally, and then suddenly he

insulted someone, or even killed someone.” But if we slow the video down and

look carefully, we see that it was not sudden at all. There were causes and stages.

It begins with a thought.

We read something on Facebook, see something in a store, watch something

on YouTube. The first thought appears almost without our control. Our eyes notice

something. This is what spiritual writers call the “first suggestion.” At this stage,

attention is very important.

Father Pavel Florensky wrote that there are trained dreams and untrained

dreams. Our subconscious life depends greatly on how we live during the day. The

way we guard our day shapes the way we guard our soul during temptation.

This is not a one-moment process. It is a lifelong process. Thoughts enter our

mind, and they test our spiritual condition.

A thought appearing is not yet a sin. That is not fully in our control. But how

we respond — that is in our control. Do we keep the thought? Do we develop it?

Do we argue with it?

Many thoughts enter the mind, but which thought you choose to focus on is

extremely important. Christians must be careful and ask: Where does this thought

come from? Who benefits from it?

Sometimes this question sounds simple, but if you honestly ask it, you will

begin to see the source of certain ideas. That alone can make your spiritual struggle

easier.

You should not have a “sweet conversation” with evil thoughts. Do not

negotiate with them. Do not accept them as your own. If you enter into dialogue

with them, you begin to make friends with them — and that leads the soul into

deception.

For example, a thought may say: “You should remove this person from your

life.” Then it grows: “That is not enough — destroy him.” Then it becomes more

detailed. This is how destructive desires grow inside the soul.

This psychological and spiritual scheme is clearly shown in Crime and

Punishment.

At the beginning of the novel, Rodion Raskolnikov overhears a conversation

in a tavern. Two officers discuss the idea that killing a “useless” old pawnbroker

might benefit society. This casual conversation becomes a seed in his mind.

That seed grows into a theory.

Raskolnikov develops the idea of the “extraordinary man” — that certain

people, like Napoleon Bonaparte, have the right to break moral laws if they serve a

greater purpose. His crime is not only about money. It is an experiment. He wants

to test whether he belongs to this category of “great men.”

But how does it end?

He collapses internally. He cannot bear the weight of his conscience. He

confesses. He is sent to Siberia. And there, especially through Sonya’s influence,

his spiritual transformation begins.

The novel shows that a human being cannot survive an idea that places

himself in the position of God. The “Napoleon theory” breaks in real life. Crime

destroys not only legally, but ontologically — it breaks the person from within.

True resurrection begins when a person admits their fall.

Raskolnikov’s real ending is not murder — it is confession and repentance.

His true victory is humility.

And this brings us back to fasting. Fasting means standing guard. Watching

carefully. Protecting the soul before the thought grows into action. It is not only

about what we eat. It is about what we allow to enter the heart.

In short, a person must fight against sin. If someone obeys their thoughts and turns

them into sin, worse things happen: they become drunk on sin and fall asleep

spiritually. A person trapped in sin may stop committing outward sins, but they lose

the strength to escape its grip. That is why it is best to stop sin early, while it is still

small and easy to overcome.

Psalm 137 gives us an example. This psalm was written during the

Babylonian captivity, when Israel was exiled. The Israelites became accustomed to

their new life: the land was fertile, the food was good, the climate pleasant, and

they had personal land to work. Soon, they started businesses, trade flourished, and

they began to forget their homeland, their heritage, and, most importantly, their

God. They even began worshiping foreign gods.

The prophets tried to wake them from this spiritual sleep, saying: “Wake up!

No matter how comfortable you feel, this is not your land. Do not forget your God.

You have a higher calling. The Messiah is coming, the one who will save you.”

From this context, Psalm 137 emerged:

"By the rivers of Babylon—there we sat down and there we wept when we

remembered Zion. On the willows there we hung up our harps. For there our

captors asked us for songs, and our tormentors asked for mirth, saying, ‘Sing us

one of the songs of Zion!.... How can we sing the songs of the Lord while in a

foreign land? If I forget you, Jerusalem, may my right hand forget its skill.

Daughter Babylon, doomed to destruction, happy is the one who repays you

according to what you have done to us. Happy is the one who seizes your infants

and dashes them against the rocks.’"

At first glance, it seems violent and shocking. How can we understand the

spiritual meaning of this psalm? We, the Christians, are the “New Israel.”

Jerusalem is not a physical city in the Middle East. Our Jerusalem is our heart.

Literally, Jerusalem is the holy city where God dwells. But God does not dwell in a

building made by human hands. As the Apostle Stephen says, God does not live in

man-made temples. Paul also says that our bodies are the dwelling place of the

Holy Spirit.

Your heart is God’s dwelling. The Kingdom of Heaven must open within us.

Yet sometimes we reject our inner spiritual life — the Kingdom within. Why do we

do this? Because a part of us, a citizen of the Kingdom, wants to act according to

worldly laws.

Imagine a royal secretary telling the king: “I will serve you from 8 a.m. to 4

p.m., but after that, do not disturb me. Also, I will pray at 10 a.m. while serving

you, but the rest of my life does not concern you.” It is absurd. We are always

before God — in church, at work, at home — everywhere. It is a mistake to tell

God: “I will serve you only part of my life; the rest belongs to me.”

When we forget God, we follow the same patterns as the world: we lie, steal,

cheat, and become like those around us. But the Gospel tells us clearly: we become

the servant of whatever we serve. If we serve God, our hearts belong to Him. If we

serve sin, we belong to sin.

Our hearts are like complex organizations. Each of us contains multiple

“groups” or “clubs,” each with its own will and desire. One group says, “Let’s read

a book.” Another whispers, “Prayer is more important.” Another raises its voice,

“Food is more important now!” These groups constantly compete for attention.

The “speaker” of the heart, the part closest to our true self, chooses which voice

to follow. Usually, it is the most difficult and demanding voice, because it

represents the real work needed to protect the soul.

In our inner life, there is a constant clash of voices, all waiting for

consensus. But in the Kingdom of Heaven, there is no such chaos or dictatorship.

There, order is radically different.

Sometimes, Christians lose the joy of Resurrection. Christ reminds us that

we are not slaves of sin; He has freed us. We are His children. This is the Paschal

experience, participation in the mysteries of Christ, in His victory over sin and

death.

So, how should fasting help us? It should help us understand that we cannot live in

sin. If we continue like this, we move away from the joy of the Resurrection. We

must fight to restore the freedom that we lost because of sin. Then we are given

guidance on how to gain this freedom again.

This is what it means: when a baby is small, soft, and gentle, you can easily guide

and control it. In the same way, when sin is new, it is easier to remove it. But what

does it mean to dash it against a rock? This rock is Christ. The rock of faith is Jesus

Christ. Through prayer to Jesus Christ, our sinful thoughts are defeated.

Time is very important. People needed to measure time for practical reasons, but

also to leave their mark. For this reason, they created the calendar. Every day has

its own name and meaning. Every day has its own face. That is why we have the

beginning of Lent, the end of Lent, feast days, days of mourning, and so on.

Think about how much marking a day can change a person’s feelings and mood.

Sunday is never like Tuesday. Look at the Sunday Liturgy and then look at a

normal Monday. Look at Pascha and compare it to any other day. Then look at

people’s attitudes — everything changes. A person’s character and mood change

according to the meaning of the day. The same happens on a birthday. Imagine how

much joy a person feels.

Before fasting, there is the joy of the stomach — you can eat what you want.

During fasting, there is the joy of the soul — you move from the body to the soul

and experience different spiritual realities.

One reason why I love Orthodoxy is that it has no ceiling. Like a house has a roof,

but Orthodoxy does not. You can always go higher and higher. Remember the

words of the Gospel: “Be perfect, as your Father in heaven is perfect.” Orthodoxy

understands this directly. Orthodox theology speaks about the mystery of

deification — theosis. It teaches that the human eye can see the uncreated God. At

the same time, we do not lose our earthly reality. The Church sees both spiritual

depth and human goodness.

Do you know what the first rule of Great Lent is? We have a book called the

Typikon. In this book, the rules of the Church services are written. This book is

usually used by priests and chanters, and it is very large. But first of all, it was a

book for monks.

This book speaks about how monks live their spiritual life during the year. It was

written mainly for monasteries, not for parish life. Because of this, the great

canonist Theodore Balsamon asked an important question: should lay people fast

in the same way as monks, or should their fasting be different?

He wrote that monks keep the full forty days of fasting, while the people in the

parish traditionally kept the last seven days. When you open the book, you see that

it describes a monk waking up, ringing the bell, and calling the other monks to

prayer. This shows that the text was written for monastic life.

Today, however, the Church invites all of us to participate in the fast as much as we

can. We try to keep it faithfully, even when it is difficult. At the same time, the

Church also has a loving and pastoral approach called economia. This means that

each person, together with their spiritual father, can discern how to keep the fast

according to their strength and life situation.

The Church cares about you and continues to guide you with love.

I wanted to share this small piece of history from the life of the Church. Sometimes

in the services of the Church, the hymns and prayers may be difficult for us to

understand because of their deep language or long history. But we should

remember something important: even when our mind does not fully understand,

our heart still hears the prayer.

It is like a child who does not yet understand the meaning of harsh or kind words.

Over time, the child learns the language that surrounds them, and their heart is

shaped by what they hear. Prayer works in a similar way. Even when we do not

immediately understand everything, prayer slowly enters the heart. And in time,

the heart receives the grace of fasting and prayer.

So do not be discouraged. Continue to pray, continue to fast as you are able, and

trust that God is working quietly in your heart.