Got thirst? Good! Me too! That means we're in this together!
My sisters and I ventured out today to purchase flour on the black market, since that is where you have to get flour these days. Actually, a guy advertised in an online marketplace that he had to close his restaurant and was therefore selling his current order of baking supplies. So we met in the parking lot of an abandoned store and he hefted 50 lb bags of flour, some sugar and some yeast into the back of my car and I paid him through Venmo. Never even touched the stuff. That's how things are done these days, in our world.
When I got home it was 2 pm, and the sun was shining and the springtime air was breezy and dry and the urge to just get a nice long drink of water, or even more tempting, a cool tall glass of Coke on ice... the thought of it almost overwhelmed me. And then I remembered.
I love that word: Remember. It's one of the most divine in our vocabulary.
I remembered we are fasting today, this Good Friday. In response to the call of our prophet, we join a worldwide day of fasting and prayer, that we will have the Lord's sheltering and guiding hand as we journey through this pandemic. I've fasted almost all my life, at least once a month, The first Sunday of every month, in our church, the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, we fast and witness to ourselves, our Lord, and each other, that we have confidence in God and are willing to sacrifice for each other. So, basically, I've been in "Fast training" all my life.
Still, it's hard! I'm so used to getting what I want when I want it. This is such a good and humbling exercise for our bodies and our spirits. Hooray for hard, and for people training themselves to do it.
One day, when I was teaching the gospel through song to the little kids in our church, it was fast Sunday and I asked the kids if any of them had tried fasting yet. Many of them raised their hands, which was quite moving to me. I asked them if it was painful for them. And they said "Oh yes!"
We talked a bit about pain. And then I told them about discomfort, and how it's sort of like pain but not quite. There is a difference between pain and discomfort. When I am fasting... truly fasting, for a long time, I feel the stages of the fast. It begins with the emotional loss, the absence of routine that involves eating or drinking: the gulp of water after you brush your teeth, the banana or smoothie in the morning. Then, as the day progresses, it turns to little snips of thirst, or pangs of hunger here and there. They pass, without much problem. It then moves into discomfort. I am aware of my dry mouth, of the pinch in my stomach. And then, deeper in, there is the constant grip of hunger. I rarely let myself go there in my daily life. I am always surprised, when I get through those phases, how I end up, near the end of my fast, settled into a place of peace and spirituality. Often, when I fast only a meal or two, I never get to that spot, and that's a shame. But today, I feel it coming.
Right now, however, I'm in the "Gee, wouldn't it be nice to have some nice cool water" phase. The pollen has given me a perpetual headache, and my habit is to think, pretty much always, that food or drink will help me feel better. Alas.
I love the law of the fast as it walks hand in hand with prayer. Every time I feel thirst, or hunger, I immediately send up a prayer. It's like that little "ding" I hear on my cell phone when I have set a reminder for myself. Fasting helps fulfill the request to pray always. And the deeper I go into it, the more constant and sincere are the prayers. A side effect is compassion and empathy for those whose lives include daily hunger and thirst.
So right now, mid-afternoon on Good Friday, I celebrate every single other human on this planet who hungers and thirsts for righteousness' sake. We unite our prayers and send them heavenward in a massive blast, like the shofar horns being blown heavenward in the holy temple. Our hunger stirs our prayers, and they rise like smoke, heavenward.
Hear us, oh Lord!
