The Lenten fast is a forty-day period of spiritual preparation before Pascha (Easter), during which Orthodox Christians abstain from certain foods and intensify their prayer and almsgiving. It starts on Clean Monday and runs through Holy Week, preparing us for the most important feast of the Christian year: Christ’s Resurrection.
But it’s not just about skipping meat. The Lenten fast is medicine for the soul.
What We Don’t Eat
During Great Lent, we abstain from meat, fish (anything with a backbone), dairy products (milk, cheese, butter, eggs), wine, and olive oil on weekdays. That sounds extreme if you’re coming from a Baptist background where giving up chocolate for Lent counts as serious sacrifice. And honestly, it is a big shift.
On weekdays we traditionally eat one meal a day. Weekends (Saturday and Sunday) are a bit lighter, we can have two meals and add back wine and olive oil, though meat and dairy are still off the table. There are two exceptions when fish is allowed: the Annunciation (March 25) and Palm Sunday.
The first week of Lent is the strictest. Many Orthodox Christians eat nothing at all for the first few days, or only uncooked foods like bread, fruit, and nuts after sunset. Holy Week at the end of Lent returns to that same intensity.
If you’re working a twelve-hour shift at one of the refineries around Beaumont, the idea of total fasting might seem impossible. That’s where your priest comes in. We’re not legalists about this. The fasting rules come from ancient monastic practice, and they represent an ideal. Your priest can help you figure out what’s realistic for your situation, your health, your work schedule, your family obligations.
Why We Fast
We fast because Christ fasted forty days in the wilderness before beginning his ministry. We’re joining him there, in a sense. Fasting teaches us that we’re not controlled by our appetites. It creates space for prayer. It reminds us three times a day (when we’d normally eat meat or cheese and can’t) that we’re in a special season.
The Church Fathers talk about fasting as a way to quiet the passions. When your body isn’t getting everything it wants, you become more aware of your dependence on God. You get a little hungry, a little uncomfortable, and that discomfort can wake you up spiritually. It’s not about earning anything or punishing yourself. It’s about becoming free.
St. John Chrysostom said that fasting without prayer and charity just makes you a hungry person, not a spiritual one. The three go together. We fast, we pray more (there are extra services during Lent), and we give to those in need. That’s the rhythm.
Starting Where You Are
If you’re an inquirer or a catechumen, don’t try to do everything at once. You’ll burn out or make yourself sick, and that defeats the purpose. Start with something manageable. Maybe this year you keep the Wednesday and Friday fasts (those happen year-round in Orthodoxy, not just during Lent). Maybe you give up meat for the whole forty days but keep eating fish and dairy. Maybe you commit to one meal a day on weekdays but don’t worry about the oil and wine rules yet.
Talk to Fr. Michael or whoever your priest is. He’s not going to shame you for needing to take it slow. The goal is growth, not perfection. Someone who’s been Orthodox for twenty years should fast differently than someone who walked in the door six months ago.
Great Lent is longer and stricter than the other fasting seasons on the Orthodox calendar. We also fast before Christmas (the Nativity Fast, from November 15 to December 24), before the feast of Saints Peter and Paul (the Apostles’ Fast, which varies in length), and before the Dormition of the Theotokos in August. But none of those are as intense as Lent. This is the big one.
What Happens to You
Something shifts when you keep the fast, even imperfectly. You notice how much of your life revolves around food and comfort. You realize how often you eat out of boredom rather than hunger. The services feel different when you’re fasting, the prayers land harder, the Scripture readings seem written for you specifically.
And Pascha, when it finally comes, tastes like nothing else. The feast after the fast. The Resurrection after the crucifixion. That’s what we’re preparing for through these forty days. Not just remembering that Jesus rose from the dead, but experiencing our own rising with him, our own movement from death to life.
If you’ve never kept a Lenten fast before, this year might be the time to try. Start small, talk to your priest, and see what God does with your willingness.
