On Fasting (it's way more fascinating than it sounds!)

a reflection, a prayer, and a recipe to start your week

Last week, I was on the phone catching up with a friend when she told me, “Oh Kendall, you’re going to love this. My church is currently planning their ‘40 Days to Easter’ series. They won’t call it Lent, but it’s a church-wide fast.”

We both chuckled and groaned at the underlying fear that using the term Lent would come across as “too Catholic” for the Evangelical congregation, alongside the recognition of the wisdom in this preparatory season.

Another friend recently observed that many Evangelical churches she knows have begun offering church-wide new year’s diets/fasts at the beginning of each new year. “I don’t know if they just don’t know about Lent?” she said, “Or if they want a communal fast…but just not Lent.”

Lent has, sadly, gotten a bad rap in non-liturgical circles. While it is beginning to regain popularity among those hungry for tradition, there is still for many a gap in understanding of the season’s origin.

Lent begins pretty late this year—on March 5—so it’s a bit early to begin with the annual explanation of why Christians honor this season. But I want to spend this month digging into the history of fasting in Christian tradition, and I don’t think I can do that without first providing context for the most well known fast of all.

Oftentimes, those who argue against Lent will say that it’s never referenced in the Bible, therefore it’s not something we as Christians need to observe. But Lent is one of the oldest Christian traditions, tracing back at least to the Council of Nicea in 325 AD. This 40-day fast—which mirrors Jesus’ 40-day fast in the wilderness after his baptism—was a time of preparation for new converts as they neared baptism come Easter. There is evidence that the practice of a pre-Easter fast was already in full swing by Nicea. Irenaus references such a fast in a letter written in the 2nd century. It wasn’t until the Reformation more than a millenia later that Protestants began to question whether or not this fast was necessary.

There are many reasons that I love the season of Lent—its focus on human limitation and our need for God, it’s ability to prepare us to truly celebrate and feast come Easter—but one of my favorites is the way that restriction serves as the soil for human creativity and innovation. All around the world, dishes have emerged that are particular to the fasting rhythms of a region. Fasting for the Christian is not a means to earn God’s forgiveness, but of recognizing our limitations and our reliance on God. I love that in the process we then see the creativity that emerges among humans made in the image of our Creator.

If you’re interested in digging deeper into this history, you can listen to my episode of Kitchen Meditations On Lenten Fasting.

If you are new here, you might have caught on that my newsletter rhythm is to send out an email each Sunday morning. The first Sunday of the month, all subscribers (paid and free) receive the full email: reflection, prayer, recipe, reading recommendations, resources, and more. The rest of the month, free subscribers receive a portion of the reflection, while paid subscribers receive the full email every week (plus the ability to comment and a discount on certain Edible Theology offerings, like the forthcoming Lent Sourdough).

I announced in my January free email that I’ll be using this first email of the month to give a broad overview of the topic that I’ll be digging deeper into the following few weeks. If you’re happy with a general overview, the free email is probably enough! But if you want to dive into the nitty gritty with me (or fund my research, which is all in service of my next book) then I recommend you upgrade to paid. (A huge thank you to those of you who already have!)

As I mentioned earlier, this month we’ll be discussing the history of fasting in Christian tradition—not just Lent, but the practice of fasting as a whole. We’ll discuss the medieval women who survived off nothing but the Eucharist. While their habits mirror what would be defined as disordered eating today, it was at the time a method of asserting power in the only sphere they were able. We’ll talk about 17th century Puritans and the practice of fasting as devotion, and the 19th century turn towards fasting as a means of healing the body—not through prayer, but through dietary control. Finally, we’ll talk about the place fasting has taken in mainstream culture today: heralded as a means of optimizing the body (even though little research has been done on the impact of fasting on menstruating women…and what research has been done does not actually bode well for us).

If this sounds interesting to you, I’d love to have you come along!

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A Prayer for Baking Through Anxiety, from Bake & Pray: Liturgies and Recipes for Baking Bread as a Spiritual Practice—I hope baking with this prayer is a balm to anyone who is anxious as the executive orders gutting our nation’s infrastructure continue to roll in

God of peace,

you say that we should cast
all our fears upon you.

You say not to worry about a thing.
You say you will provide
even more than you do for the birds,

but I struggle to believe it’s true.

My mind races endlessly,
and I don’t know what comes next.
Be my comfort in the rhythms of this bake.

Amen.

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Saint Brigid’s Oat Bread

This weekend we celebrate the feast day of Saint Brigid, who was known for her abundant generosity. Her business thrived the more she gave away. I am grieving the hunger and devastation caused by the freeze on US aid this week, and its impact both domestically and abroad. As I bake, I pray that we can be inspired to give generously too—we cannot as individuals fill in the gaps but I hope we can soften the blow.

Learn more about Saint Brigid in my book, Bake & Pray.

3/4 cup (2.5 ounces) rolled oats
1/2 cup (4 ounces) buttermilk
3/4 cup (3.2 ounces) all-purpose flour
1/4 cup (1.1 ounce) whole-wheat flour
1 tablespoon granulated sugar
3/4 teaspoon baking powder
1/4 teaspoon baking soda
1/2 teaspoon kosher salt
8 tablespoons (4 ounces) unsalted butter, frozen and grated
1 egg

1. In a small bowl, soak oats in buttermilk for 20–30 minutes.

2. While the oats soak, preheat the oven to 350ÅãF. In a medium-sized mixing bowl, combine flours, sugar, baking powder, baking soda, and salt.

3. Add the butter to the bowl and rub together with the flour, working quickly to avoid warming the butter. The mixture should be mealy, not smooth.

4. Add the oat mixture and the egg to the flour mixture and stir until combined.

5. Pour the mixture onto a baking sheet lined with parchment paper or a silicone mat, or pour it onto a cast-iron skillet. Moisten your fingers and smooth the dough into a circle about 8 inches in diameter. Cut a 1/4-inch-deep score in the shape of a cross across the top of the dough.

6. Bake for 30 minutes. Let cool and serve, smeared with butter, drizzled with honey, and sprinkled with salt. This recipe is a great excuse to splurge on golden Irish butter!

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This week, I’ve been binging coverage on RFK, Jr. and his rise. I find both RFK and the MAHA movement to be both fascinating and disturbing from a scholarly perspective, and I hope that my work is a gentle landing place for those who are burned out by it all.

I love this episode of The Daily that outlines how RFK and the medical freedom movement rose to power, as well as this article by Ruth Graham on his surprising allies: Conservative Christian homeschool moms.

A food scholar friend of mine, KC Hysmith, wrote a brilliant piece on the history of the FDA and our need for regulation and protection in the food supply. She and I plan to compile a list of resources this week for those who are curious to better understand our food system and how we got to where we are—a vital step in actually working towards sustainable food reform.

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Last fall, Amanda Held Opelt and I gathered with 20+ new friends in the mountains of Western North Carolina to bake, pray, and worship. It was such a special time together and we cannot wait to do it again!

We’ll be meeting and eating at the historic Mast Farm Inn and baking down the road at Johnson Hall at the Valle Crucis Conference Center. It’s a time of rest, renewal, community, and more.

I’d love to have you there!