Lent has begun, and so I’m following our faith’s traditional fasting regimen, which is to say that I’m refraining from eating all animal byproducts. Of course, Lent isn’t just about fasting, its also about making more time to pray and think about our spiritual life, and it’s also about doing proactive, God-pleasing things such as feeding the homeless or fundraising for a charity.

Nonetheless, fasting is the aspect of Lent on which most people seem to focus. But why do we fast? When the process loses meaning, it becomes an empty gesture, so its important that we understand the purpose behind it. When I first began keeping a strict lenten fast several years ago, I thought that fasting was about simplifying your life. By removing the excess of choice in our life, we would be free to focus on God and prepare ourselves for the mystery of Christ’s resurrection.

However, experience has proven that this isn’t completely true. After all, for most us, the distraction of food isn’t the only barrier we face in trying to be better Christians. Its probably not even in the list of top 10 barriers.

Actually, when you attempt a strict fast, life can get pretty complicated. You have to make sure you’ve got the right foods in the house at all times. If you’re visiting a friend, you should warn them about your diet so that you don’t embarrass them by not being able to eat their foods. You have to devote a fair amount of attention to the otherwise benign task of feeding yourself. Why is this desirable and what does it have to do with the Resurrection?

The Tavish Effect

Let me diverge for a moment. We have a dog. Her name is Tavish (see figure 1). My wife and I bought her from a villager at a bazaar in Yerevan. We’ve done our best to raise her right by adhering to accepted training methodologies, and always encouraging good behavior. Regardless, she’s developed a bad habit. When we take her on walks, she loves to pull on the leash and try to run this way and that. Recently, a gail wind blew by us on a walk, and a leaf flew past. Tavish ran after the leaf so fast that she nearly took my arm off.

In short, the issue is that she doesn’t pay attention to us while we walk her. Her attention is on everything except whats important, our voice, our instructions. In trying to figure out a way to break her of this bad habit, we came across a certain type of collar that gives her a different sensation while walking. It puts pressure on the back of the neck, instead in front of the throat. In part, the logic is that by creating a new element to her walking experience, she breaks her normal routine. She “slows down her brain,” to borrow a phrase from Cesar Milan, in order to process all the new stimuli. It’s at this moment that we can start to help her form new and better habits. So far, its been working.

New Habits

Now, I’m not strictly a behaviorist by any means, but the fact is that most of us kind of live our lives on autopilot, not unlike Tavish. Thats not necessarily a bad thing , and its a actually a great coping mechanism to deal with our hectic lives. If we had to carefully consider our every single action, life would be much more difficult. The problem is that our autopilots aren’t always as fine tuned as they should be. We’ve got bad habits that we need to get rid of, and there are good habits we’ve neglected forming.

Fasting helps us break our former monotony. It adds a new element to our lives for which we must devote our attention and will power. Throughout this process, we remind ourselves why we are fasting. We are doing it to exercise and strengthen our spirituality. Its in that moment that we start to form new habits.

When I wake up and I prepare my morning coffee (after having walked Tavish of course), I stop myself as I reach for the milk (I don’t take my coffee black).

“Wait, hold on, I can’t drink milk. Lame! But why? Oh yeah, its Lent. I’m fasting to prepare myself to celebrate Easter.”

I remember Christ’s sacrifice and the Resurrection and in that moment, and carry my gratitude and prayerfulness with me for the rest of the day. My hope is always that when another Lent is over, I’m a better Christian than I was before it began, and that I’ve created more space within my heart for Christ to reside.