As Western Christians gear up for Ash Wednesday, Orthodox Christians continue their Pre-Lenten journey. Orthodoxy observes dietary restrictions and modifications during the forty-day fast. The period calls for fasting from meat, dairy products, wine, olive oil, and most kinds of fish. Intensified prayer and almsgiving are also features of Orthodox Lent, and the fast is slightly relaxed on Saturdays and Sundays (with wine and olive oil permitted), and fish, wine, and olive oil allowed on the feast of Annunciation on March 25 (unless it occurs during Holy Week).
This Sunday is an important station in the Pre-Lenten journey as it is Meatfare Sunday, the last day before Lent the Church permits consumption of meat products. The following week is somewhat unusual in that dairy products are permitted each day of the week until Monday of the first week of Lent (known as “Clean Week”), when the fast begins in earnest.
The practice of relinquishing meat one week before the beginning of Lent is designed to gradually prepare for the rigors of Lent. Cheesefare Sunday is the last day for eating dairy products; Lent begins with Vespers, which the prevailing theme of forgiveness and reconciliation, and greeting the forty days with joy. Most parishes include some variant of a rite of forgiveness, as people prostrate before one another, forgiving the trespasses of the other and asking for their forgiveness, concluded by the exchange of the kiss of peace. It is also customary for the choir to sing selections from Pascha (Easter). So Lent begins with a ritualization of the eighth day of the kingdom of God, as each participant takes the first step of asking forgiveness, imparting forgiveness, and thanking God for the promise of resurrection and new birth.
I think (and hope!) that all of this sounds interesting: how do people actually live it?
First, the matter of relinquishing foods. Orthodoxy’s fasting requirements depict an ideal, or a pattern to be followed. Ideally, each community (parish, monastic, academic, family) fasts together. If one fasts, the others do as well, in solidarity with one another. The idea is to learn how to stop sinning, to fast from sin, which begins with controlling the temptation to overindulge in foods and drinks that we do not need for life. The daily rehearsal of fasting is designed to show that we can indeed live without the fancy meats; in fact, voluntarily taking up hunger permits us to preserve food for those who are truly hungry, which is why almsgiving goes hand-in-hand with fasting.
Of course, people adapt the fasting rules. Some people observe them quite faithfully; others intensify their fasting for certain days of the week, or particular weeks within Lent. Others integrate absolute fasting for portions of the day (no food or drink), whereas others turn off social media or fast from “screen time.” The ideal of a community fasting together prevails, and in reality, many observe the fast as they are able, while some do not observe it at all.
The reduction of fasting to observing a particular vegetarian diet afflicts Orthodox culture. People who are actively fasting compare notes and ingredients. I remember hearing a singer interrogate another chorister about the specific ingredients in the cookies she had brought to choir rehearsal (“do these have eggs and milk? I won’t eat them if they do.”) It has become customary for some Orthodox to post and tweet photos of their Lenten meals on social media. Some people with medical conditions approach their pastors in tears, begging them for leniency in fasting since they need to eat to preserve energy. This reduction of fasting to obsessing about observing the letter of the law irritated Father Alexander Schmemann, who referred to the publication and distribution of cookbooks containing “delicious Lenten recipes” as a symbol of the reduction of fasting (in his popular book about Lent). Perhaps the best spiritual counsel about fasting is to encourage people to do it without discussing it with anyone.
This discussion of fasting returns us to the present: this coming Sunday is Meatfare, the last day for eating meat before Pascha. As people ease their bodies into the dietary modification, the final week before Lent permits dairy products each day. East Slavs tend to mark this final pre-Lenten time with a gathering called “Maslanitsa.” The events surrounding such gatherings vary: for some, Maslanitsa is a veritable party, with formal foods, music, dancing, and fellowship, which is why Westerners tend to compare it to Mardi Gras or “Fat Tuesday” (of course, riotous partying is not the point of Maslanitsa). Elsewhere, it is a time to enjoy specific ethnic cuisines one last time. In the parish of my youth, we ate as many nalysnyky (or blyny, crepes) stuffed with cheese as we could. These traditions are community receptions of fasting that refer to its temporary state: a feast will conclude the fast.
This year, as the fast approaches, I noted that some church leaders are encouraging faithful Christians to look beyond the temptation to reduce the fast to a vegetarian competition or a personal accomplishment, and align the outcomes of the fast with the world’s afflictions. Fasting is one practice of many aimed towards the Christian’s repentance and transformation into an icon of Christ. The leader of the largest Orthodox Church in Ukraine, Metropolitan Onufriy, appealed to faithful to cancel the customary “Maslanitsa” celebrations of the week of Cheesefare and begin fasting before the appointed time, to be mindful of the thousands of Ukrainian citizens who have been killed, displaced, and injured in some way on account of the war in Eastern Ukraine.
Venturing out of one’s door and lifting one’s head to see the homeless, destitute, ill, and injured is reason enough for any Christian to take up a fast and begin the journey of repentance.
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