April 2 was “Latare Sunday.” Yes, I had to look it up, too. Taken from the Latin for “be joyful,” the fourth Sunday of Lent is considered a time out from the serious introspection of Lent and an occasion to rejoice in anticipation of the glory of Easter. It’s also a good half-way point for taking stock of the Lenten journey.

On Latare Sunday the presider at mass may change the purple vestments for those of rose. After my initial amused surprise at seeing Father striding up to the altar draped in pink from neck to ankle, I had to turn my attention back to my own Lenten journey to the Easter altar and was struck by something equally as surprising: my Lenten fast hasn’t been a fast at all.

Okay, there’s a fast and there’s a fast. Christ fasted. Ghandi fasted. Irish political prisoners fasted. Members of Congress have fasted in protest of economic reform they feel will hurt America’s poor. My little fasts pale in comparison. First of all, there’s the facebook fast. I’m off facebook until Easter because I feel my time could be better spent during Lent in prayer or reading scripture than seeing who just checked in to Pizza Hut. And I’m observing abstinence from meat on Fridays. But I seriously have been trying to fast from food.

So far my food fast has been this: only two meals on Friday and Sunday, and no snacks between meals. I made this choice for a couple of reasons. First of all, I want to be more mindful of my eating and my actions, and I have the tendency to start shoving chips or crackers into my face when I’m bored or anxious. Again, this could be time better spent in prayer or reading. And second, I wanted to remind myself what it’s like to feel hungry. Over the years my husband and I have spent time volunteering at soup kitchens and homeless shelters serving meals, and the people who have taken plates from our hands have had to be mindful of what they were eating, because they might not know when they would eat again. If I am to follow Christ’s command to “feed my sheep,” it would be hypocritical of me not to have some understanding of their experience. Of course, it’s also kind of shallow of me to think that getting hungry in between meals is the same as living from meal to meal.

All the same, I was getting hungry in between meals and experiencing frustration and a sense of deprivation because I couldn’t gratify that hunger the second I felt (or before I felt) it. So what was I doing to compensate? I was eating twice as much at meals. Oh yes, there’s bargaining and rationalization going on! Have two eggs in the morning instead of one — you won’t eat again until lunch. Load up on the side dishes at lunch — you won’t eat again until dinner. Have dessert at dinner — you won’t eat again until breakfast.

It was Latare Sunday and I could laugh at my middle-class sensibilities and what I considering “doing without.” But once I stop laughing I had to look at the underlying reason for my bargaining and rationalization. It was fear. I was afraid of being hungry. I was afraid of doing without. I was afraid that if I didn’t get what I needed at one meal, I would never, ever get it. If Freud started digging around in my psychic closet, he could probably come up with a number of experiences from my childhood that would explain this fear of not having what I need, but that’s not the issue, and it’s not of Spirit. If I fear, I do not trust.

It doesn’t matter what kinds of needs were not met in my past. If I have decided to walk the path of Lenten sacrifice in anticipation of the glory of Easter, I have become, as Paul says in 2nd Corinthians 5:17, a “new creature.” And if I have an extra dessert at dinner because I’m afraid of going without food until breakfast, I’m saying, by my actions, “I don’t trust You, God.” And if I don’t trust God to keep my well-fed middle-class body whole and sound for 12 hours, how, in the name of all that’s holy (no pun intended), trust Him with my life, my will, my soul?

Half-way through Lent I discovered that my fast was only a half-fast. And, at the risk of offending some readers, it was just a half-assed fast. I’m glad I made that discovery while I still have time to truly walk the walk. God does not give me half. My fast, my Lenten experience, my walk with God has to be whole and all. My fast must ultimately be not a fast from food, but a fast from fear.

Wishing you a space for grace in your life today,
Kate