Read This Book

I got a fascinating book today, on my sister’s recommendation. Jentezen Franklin’s Fasting. I suppose you can guess what it’s about.

Franklin runs a church in northern Georgia. Every year, his congregation starts things off with a 21-day fast. They don’t all fast, and not all of them fast for 21 days, but during the first 21 days of the year (or maybe the 21 before New Year’s; I forget), they are encouraged to fast, and many of them do.

Some of the book is about “toxins” and the supposed health benefits of fasting. I take that stuff with a grain of salt. There is a lot of mythology about mystical substances the body supposedly contains, which can be expelled via sweating or enemas or fasting or eating vegetables or drinking olive oil or who knows what else. I have never seen a respected physician mention these things, and I am not as confident in this business as Franklin is. Other parts of the book are about the spiritual benefits of fasting. This is different. This is within his area of expertise, so I have no reason to doubt his knowledge or inspiration.

I got about halfway through the book this afternoon, and it was an exciting read. He confirmed that my experience was not unusual. People who fast and pray are often delivered from hard-to-control urges. I knew fasting was associated with exorcism, but casting a demon out of another person is not the same as being delivered from your own compulsions.

He pointed out that one of Sodom’s major sins was gluttony. Look at Ezekiel 1:49-50. It’s not clear in some translations, but The Complete Jewish Bible actually uses the word “gluttony” in that passage. In addition to sexual perversion, the Sodomites didn’t do charity, they were lazy, they were arrogant, and they didn’t fast. He noted something else, which I had never seen taught before. Most charismatics are familiar with the passage from Joel which predicts a wave of Holy-Spirit baptisms (Joel 2:28). What I did not realize is that this, and other blessings, are conditioned on fasting (Joel 2:15). See for yourself.

One of the exciting things about Biblical interpretation is seeing how a passage translated with words that seem to mean one thing can actually mean something different, which is more illuminating. Franklin mentioned a Psalm passage which, in the context of his book, seems to suggest I’m not the only one who feels isolated from God during a fast. Take a look at Psalm 42:

1 As the hart panteth after the water brooks, so panteth my soul after thee, O God.

2 My soul thirsteth for God, for the living God: when shall I come and appear before God?

3 My tears have been my meat day and night, while they continually say unto me, Where is thy God?

If you don’t have fasting in mind when you read this, it sounds like purple prose and melodrama. Today, to me, this sounds like a person who is fasting and who feels distant from God during the process. If your tears are your food, presumably, you’re not eating. If you thirst for God, presumably, you feel as if he is far away. This passage reminds me of Psalm 63, which seems to describe charismatic prayer and worship.

Franklin’s book also seems to reveal a striking similarity between actions urged by the Rosh Hashanah prayer (which I have been writing about this week) and the main obligations of a Christian. Orthodox Jews believe that on Rosh Hashanah (first day of the religious year for Jews), God decides what each person’s fate will be during the coming year, and they believe he seals this fate in his book in heaven on Yom Kippur. On Rosh Hashanah, Jews recite the Unetaneh Tokef, a prayer which confirms this. The end of the prayer indicates that a year of punishment (possibly in the form of death) can be avoided: “But repentance, prayer and charity avert the harsh decree.” Franklin states: “The three duties of every Christian are giving, praying, and fasting.”

Did he have the prayer in mind when he wrote that? There is no indication in the book. But look at the remarkable similarity. “Giving” expresses the fundamental duty to be generous, which includes charity as well as support for the church. Both sentences mention prayer. Fasting is not synonymous with repentance, but I think it’s safe to say that all fasting is repentance, even if not all repentance takes the form of fasting. All fasting is a turn away from earthly concerns and toward Godly ones.

It’s even more remarkable, when you consider the purpose of fasting. When you fast, you are trying to get God to give you relief. Maybe you’re not trying to get relief in advance, as you would prior to Rosh Hashanah, but the principle is the same. You want to be moved out of your current problems or out of the path of future difficulties.

Here’s something that will disturb lots of people. He says fasting is necessary for all of us, as a normal part of Christian life. He makes a good argument. For one thing, he notes that Jesus considered fasting important for his own ministry. It would be pretty odd if he had to fast 40 days in order to do his job, and the rest of us didn’t have to fast at all. Second thing: Jesus said his disciples would fast when he was gone. He told certain Pharisees that the disciples weren’t fasting while the bridgegroom was with them, but that they would later.

I guess you can file the above paragraph under “tough love.” Sorry. Don’t shoot the messenger.

If it will help ease the blow, Franklin notes that partial fasts have value. Daniel got a lot done by refusing certain foods, for example. This may be a good time for me to announce that I’m giving up liver, cheap beer, margarine, raw oysters, sour milk, moldy bread, and soy burgers. I hope that pays off.

It occurred to me as I read this that the power of partial fasting may be one explanation for kashrut. Kosher food isn’t particularly healthy, as a quick glance around a shul will reveal. And it’s not always clear why God chose the foods he did. But if Franklin is right, keeping kosher is a lifelong partial fast, and it’s something that has to bring a certain amount of blessings. Jews say it’s primarily about obedience. If so, that seems to make it a kind of fast.

There was some very encouraging stuff in the last pages I read. Franklin says people have influenced the health and even the behavior of loved ones by fasting. That’s phenomenal, because it’s generally much harder to get healing and character changes for others than it is for yourself. And some sick people are not well enough to fast on their own behalf. I guess this makes sense. Job offered sacrifices for his children.

I’ve written a little about the significance of forty-day-long periods of self-denial in the Bible, but Franklin brings up some which I had either forgotten or never noticed. Elijah fasted forty days. The Ninevites were called on to fast for forty days. I’m too lazy to look all the examples up, but they made an impression on me.

It’s so strange that I’m learning all this during the Forty Days of Teshuvah, prior to Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur. What better time to get a major revelation about fasting? Especially with my sister in such need. Her chemotherapy started as the forty days were beginning. Maybe I can be of more help to her than I thought.

The TV hucksters of the Eighties and Nineties did the church a disservice by suggesting that Christians were supposed to be spoiled little gods who always got what they wanted. But they were right to think we were supposed to be powerful. There is more to our lot than suffering and forgiving and being persecuted and then dying in the gutter, broke, single, and covered with sores. Life is a war, and war brings wounds, but it also brings victories, doesn’t it?

I am going to have to schedule some fasts. There is no way around it. I don’t think I’ll ever stop being miserable when I fast. I really hate it. You will never see me write a bunch of BS about how fasting makes me feel all holy and sanctified and lightened of my earthly concerns. I can’t believe it when other people make claims like that. Are they for real? It gives me a terrible headache, my breath smells, I get anxious and depressed, and all I think about is food. There’s my inspiring testimony; hope you admire me and wish you were as holy as I am. I have never enjoyed fasting. But now I have something to motivate me. If I can change myself permanently and break out of ruts and plateaus by fasting, I want to do it. If I can help other people who are in real trouble, I want to do it. I don’t know how much I can write about it, because I don’t want to end up doing it for attention and approval. Maybe what I’ve written already will be helpful. If I can get people to look at this book, I don’t need to write anything more.