"Is not this the fast that I choose:
to loose the bonds of wickedness,
to undo the thongs of the yoke,
to let the oppressed go free,
and to break every yoke?
Is it not to share your bread with the hungry,
and bring the homeless poor into your house;
when you see the naked, to cover him,
and not to hide yourself from your own flesh?
Then shall your light break forth like the dawn,
and your healing shall spring up speedily;
your righteousness shall go before you,
the glory of the LORD shall be your rear guard.
Then you shall call, and the LORD will answer;
you shall cry, and he will say,
Here I am.
"If you take away from the midst of you the yoke,
the pointing of the finger, and speaking wickedness,
if you pour yourself out for the hungry
and satisfy the desire of the afflicted,
then shall your light rise in the darkness
and your gloom be as the noonday.
And the LORD will guide you continually,
and satisfy your desire with good things,
and make your bones strong;
and you shall be like a watered garden,
like a spring of water,
whose waters fail not.
And your ancient ruins shall be rebuilt;
you shall raise up the foundations of many generations;
you shall be called the repairer of the breach,
the restorer of streets to dwell in.
Isaiah 58:6–12 (RSV)
Ash Wednesday is soon upon us. The Sunday before us is Transfiguration Sunday, the hinge upon which the drama of our Lord's suffering begins to turn to Jerusalem.
We will wear a smear of ash on our foreheads, perhaps make a vow to forego some personal pleasure during the weeks of Lent, believing that is what the Lord desires. It is as close as most of us come to fasting.
We have failed to heed the Lord in our fasts. We let go of what we do not need, and no one is set free; no one is fed, sheltered, or clothed. The oppressed remain in their servitude. Have we lifted a finger to lift the injustice laid upon anyone?
Is it any wonder that we live in an age where selfishness is a virtue? Instead of shame over hatred of others, we revel in our imagined superiority. In a world that aches for the light of the Gospel, we guard it for ourselves.
All these things belong to a world that is dying yet thinks it is alive. It is a world that gives out crumbs to the hungry and believes we have hosted a great feast. We let go of some small thing, call it a great fast while our brothers and sisters groan under the burden of injustice.
Our fast is our neighbor's need. Our sacrifice is our sister fed and clothed. We love our Lord by dismantling anything that reduces our brother to nothing. St Paul taught that if we suffer the loss of all things but do not love as we have been loved, we have done nothing.
Our fast is our neighbor's need. Our fast is to love as our Lord has loved us. Our fast is to take on the love of Christ, that the wounded, hungry, homeless, naked, and cruelly wronged might be enveloped in the His love.