In 2023, Advent arrived at a time when violence in Gaza was often on my mind. Harrowing news and calls for a ceasefire filled my Instagram feed, forcing me to consider what it would mean to respond authentically to the reality of such suffering. As a Catholic, I knew prayerful self-denial was an option, but I had resisted the idea. What good would a manufactured drop of my own suffering do amid the ocean already in existence? Compared to the suffering that war brings, though, that concern felt selfish. “Effective” or not, it is certainly fitting to offer proof of love through sacrifice, and as Lenten as that sentiment feels to me, Advent can be a time of “offering up” as well.
I’ll admit that I didn’t choose Advent for purely spiritual reasons. The liturgical season is shorter than Lent, and at 22 days, Advent 2023 was the shortest possible duration. I also knew that the short winter days would be a help: I’d decided to go without food from sunrise to sunset. I was particularly inspired by the fasting practices of Islam. In addition to it being the faith of those who bore the brunt of the violence, my fast was inspired by Ismatu Gwendolyn, a Muslim public scholar and activist, who had engaged in a 40-day fast in response to the violence in Palestine and shared about the experience.
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Our Muslim siblings go without food and drink from sunrise to sunset during their holy month of Ramadan as a practice of devotion and spiritual discipline. As you can imagine, this is a far more intensive manner of fasting than the standard two small meals and one large meal that constitutes a standard day of Catholic fasting, especially when considering our reduced consumption is only required on Ash Wednesday and Good Friday. Despite softening the practice for myself (in addition to a shorter fasting period, I did not prohibit myself from drinking liquids during daylight hours), I still very much felt the deprivation of nourishment. What began as a fast for peace became an opportunity to better understand how more than a day of hunger feels.
What surprised me the most was how the lack of nutrients manifested itself. I didn’t often feel my stomach rumbling or find myself wanting food to combat the sensation of an empty stomach. What I did feel were the cognitive effects. This wasn’t a matter of being distracted by hunger; operating on less fuel, my brain simply couldn’t function as well as it normally did. I wasn’t as present. It was harder to communicate. It was harder to think. As an aspiring graduate student, I was alarmed by the brain fog I felt, knowing that clear thinking and eloquent expression are fundamental in academic environments.
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I found myself thinking of all the children who sit hungry at school, struggling to focus and learn. According to the USDA, in 2023, “7.2 million children lived in food-insecure households in which children, along with adults, were food insecure.” I thought about how these children may be met with punishment, rather than compassion, for living the effects of hunger. I thought about the long-term effects of that response.
How difficult it must be to struggle through elementary school when hunger prevents you from reaching your full potential. How difficult to live through any of the indignities of poverty – homelessness, insecurity, exploitation – with a diminished mental strength. How difficult to not only live under the constant threat of death from bombs or bullets, but also to starve through it.
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I want to emphasize that what I did is not novel: Muslims undergo their Ramadan fast yearly. Christian history reveals more extensive traditions of fasting as well, including during Quadragesima Sancti Martini, or the Forty Days’ Fast of Saint Martin’s, which took place during the weeks leading up to Christmas. Additionally, it feels odd to write about my experience when there are so many people for whom hunger is a daily experience and its effects a constant threat to livelihood. To choose to be hungry is, as a spiritual practice, a privilege. Nonetheless, experience is a powerful teacher: I’m not sure I would’ve understood the mental effects of hunger without experiencing them first-hand. This fast broadened my understanding of hunger and consequently deepened my compassion for those who have no choice but to go without their daily bread.
During Advent, we remember the arrival of a God who humbled Himself to live among us, who came to proclaim good news to the poor. If you, like me, have always been blessed with food security, I invite you – provided, of course, that it is healthy and safe for you to do so – to seek out hunger this Advent. Offer your sacrifice up for an intention. Consider donating the money saved on food to your neighbors in need. Prepare for the coming of a Savior who said “I was hungry and you gave me food” (Matt. 25:35) by sharing in and learning from his reality.
