Humble thyselves

Fasting can be kind of a pain sometimes. It doesn't hurt, necessarily. It's rather annoying, though.

Take this morning. I had to mentally remind myself not to eat. Then I had to ignore my fatigue when I was moving furniture this evening. Plus, I had to drink almost triple the glasses of water than usual. Unmentionable gastronomic activity will occur at some point in the near future, and that's where I digress.

What does this have to do with small children dying?

For starters: they had to sacrifice much more than a day of minor inconveniences. More importantly, they are my siblings. If I were grieving the death of my biological brother (heaven forbid), I might lose my appetite for a few days. I'd be in a state of bereavement.

Fasting brings us to a sort of bereavement-like state of mind and heart. I didn't have much energy or enthusiasm by the end of the day.

That bereavement state, being quieter, readies us for contemplation. We're more likely to notice how much fasting irritates us...even as we're noticing how much more calm and peaceful we feel. Whatever discomfort we have taken upon ourselves for an afternoon hardly compares to the loss of life taking place every week at 320 Fulton.

Therefore, fasting is its own reward. We stand in solidarity with our neighbors, our loved ones, the children being killed, and we know that in some small fraction we have surrendered our life on behalf of those who have not been given the choice to live.

This pleases God, who has asked for a sacrifice ever since Cain & Abel.