As we begin this season of Lent, I thought I’d do a series of posts on the traditional penitential practices associate with Lent: prayer, fasting, and almsgiving.

First up, fasting.

In its simplest form, fasting is going without food (and sometimes drink) for a specified period of time — a day or during the hours of daylight, etc.  Some people limit their caloric intake. Others limit their eating to bread and water. Catholics between the ages of 18 and 59 are required to fast on Ash Wednesday and Good Friday. In the United States, that means eating one full meal and two smaller meals that together aren’t as large as the full meal, with no eating between meals. Exceptions are made for reasons of health or labor so, no, Catholic athletes at the Olympics didn’t have to fast on Wednesday, nor does a nursing mother or a firefighter who might get light-headed climbing a ladder.  Besides the required days of fasting, many people choose to fast periodically (weekly or monthly) or for special reasons. Pope Francis has called for a special day of fasting on February 23rd for peace in the world, especially South Sudan and Congo.

Another way of fasting is to give up a small pleasure — chocolate, potato chips, movies, social media. This is the traditional Lenten sacrifice that most of us recall from childhood — though it still has a place in our adult lives.

But beyond the when and the how, the more important question is why. Why do we fast? For three reasons. First, the hunger that results from fasting serves as a reminder of our hunger for God. While food can fill our stomachs, only God can fill our hearts. Second, fasting teaches us to discipline our own wills. The need to be conscious about avoiding the forbidden food or activity and the very act of saying no to yourself instead of indulging your desires trains you in selflessness, putting your needs behind those of others. Which leads to the third reason: fasting unites us with those who lack the basic necessities of life. Let’s face it. Most of us live pretty comfortable lives. We don’t worry if our kids can eat tonight or if we will have a warm, dry place to sleep tonight, or if the only water available will give us cholera. The small deprivations we feel when we fast serve as a gentle reminder of how privileged we are, calling us to respond with gratitude and generosity.