Meatfare Sunday is the last day you’ll eat meat before Great Lent begins. It falls two Sundays before Lent starts, and after this Sunday the Church begins tightening the fast. First meat goes. Then the following week (Cheesefare Sunday) dairy and eggs go too.
But that’s just the mechanics. The day’s real name tells you what it’s actually about: the Sunday of the Last Judgment.
Sheep and Goats
The Gospel reading is Matthew 25:31-46. You know the one. Christ separates the sheep from the goats based on whether they fed the hungry, clothed the naked, visited the sick and imprisoned. “As you did it to one of the least of these my brothers, you did it to me.” The righteous didn’t even realize they were serving Christ when they helped their neighbor. The condemned didn’t realize they were ignoring him.
This isn’t a comfortable reading. It’s meant to shake us awake before Lent begins.
The Church puts this Gospel here on purpose. We’re about to enter a season of fasting, extra services, prostrations, and almsgiving. And right at the threshold the Church warns us: none of that matters if you don’t love your neighbor. You can give up meat, cheese, and Netflix for forty days, but if you’re still gossiping about your coworker or ignoring the guy who needs help with his rent, you’ve missed the point entirely.
St. John Chrysostom put it bluntly. The Antiochian sources love to quote him on this: “What good is it to refrain from eating meat when you continue to bite your brothers and sisters?” That’s the Meatfare Sunday message in a sentence.
Why Stop Eating Meat Now?
The practical answer is that we’re easing into the Lenten fast. Great Lent requires abstaining from meat, dairy, fish, oil, and wine on most days. If you went from eating brisket on Sunday to a strict fast on Monday, you’d probably feel miserable and focus more on your stomach than your soul. So the Church gives us a week to step down. Meat goes first. Dairy goes the following Sunday.
But there’s a deeper reason. Fasting is a tool for healing, not a rule for rule’s sake. When we fast from food, we’re training our bodies to obey our will instead of the other way around. Most of us spend our lives letting our appetites run the show. We eat when we want, buy what we want, click what we want, say what we want. Fasting resets that. It reminds us we can say no to ourselves.
And that’s essential for repentance. You can’t turn away from sin if you can’t even turn away from a cheeseburger.
Judgment and Mercy
The hymns sung on Meatfare Sunday focus on the Second Coming. Christ will return as Judge. The separation will be final. There’s urgency in the liturgical texts, a sense that we don’t have forever to get our lives in order.
This isn’t meant to terrify you into compliance. It’s meant to wake you up to reality. We will stand before Christ. He will ask us how we loved. Not how many services we attended or how perfectly we kept the fasting rules, though those matter as tools. He’ll ask whether we saw him in the face of the person who needed us.
That’s a Southeast Texas thing too, by the way. People here understand helping your neighbor. When a hurricane comes through, folks show up with chainsaws and ice chests before FEMA gets its boots on. The Church is saying that instinct, that practical love, is what the Last Judgment will measure.
Getting Ready for Lent
Meatfare Sunday marks a shift. The Triodion (the liturgical book for pre-Lent and Lent) has been in use for a few weeks already, but now things get serious. After this Sunday, the fasting rules tighten. The services get longer. The focus turns inward toward repentance.
Many parishes encourage confession during this period. If you’ve got something broken between you and another person, now’s the time to fix it. The following Sunday is Forgiveness Vespers, where we’ll literally ask forgiveness from everyone in the parish before Lent begins. But that ritual is hollow if you haven’t already started the work of reconciliation in your actual relationships.
This is also when you start thinking practically about Lent. What will you give up? What will you take on? Are you going to make it to weekday services? Can you add a rule of prayer at home? Will you increase your almsgiving? These aren’t rhetorical questions. Lent works best when you’ve actually planned for it rather than just letting it happen to you.
The Last Meal
There’s something poignant about Meatfare Sunday. It’s the last feast before the fast. Some parishes have a big meal after Liturgy. Families might grill out one last time. It’s not Mardi Gras, we’re not trying to cram in as much indulgence as possible before the buzzer sounds. But there’s a sense of marking the moment, of acknowledging that something’s ending and something else is beginning.
And then Monday comes. No more meat. The fast has started, even if Lent itself is still a week away. You’re already on the path. The Sunday of the Last Judgment has done its work: it’s reminded you why you’re fasting in the first place, and what Christ will ask you about when you stand before him. Not whether you kept the rules perfectly, but whether you loved the person in front of you.
