Română
In this rare audio recording, St. Sophrony the Athonite (+July 11, 1993) speaks to his monastic brotherhood about the true spirit of Great Lent, the struggle of fasting, and how modern weakness has changed ascetic life. What is the real purpose of Lent? How can we rediscover its power?
Essex Monastery, February 11th, 1991
English translation adapted after the Romanian version of Fr. Rafail Noica, Cuvantari Duhovnicesti I (10).
St. Sophrony:
In the masterful design of the annual cycle of divine services, Great Lent holds a unique place. The services of Lent, which draw significantly from the texts of the Old Testament, serve as a teaching—often conveyed with an astonishing poetic gift.
As an example, I will cite the irmoi of the canon that will be chanted:
“He is my Helper and Protector, and has become my salvation. This is my God and I will glorify Him. My father’s God and I will exalt Him. For gloriously has He been glorified”
These are inspiring words, carrying within them a profound meaning—what we call Holy Tradition. Living Tradition is, above all, expressed in the spirit of life. Dogmatic teaching comes later. First, the heart loves the Lord and follows Him, “wherever He goes” (Rev. 14:4). And then gradually comes the incomparable joy of comprehending the paths of salvation of this world.
Therefore, I repeat to you: until this truth takes deep root in your hearts and minds—that such a path is indeed the path of salvation.
And yet, despite this, in our time, the endurance of our bodies has been terribly weakened—our nervous systems shaken from childhood. In earlier times, many ascetics could go weeks or even months without food, imitating Christ’s abstinence—His forty-day fast in the desert before going out to preach (see Matt. 4:2). But today, this has become rare among ascetics. Moreover, I must note with pain in my heart a most lamentable phenomenon: when fasting is prescribed for medical reasons, people are often capable of enduring it. But, for the sake of God, it becomes impossible—because there is a certain spirit that hinders every effort in following Christ.
In past generations, in monasteries, those who were able would fast until Friday, or even Saturday [during first week of the Great Lent]. But this was not for everyone. On the first day, there was no food prepared at all. Beginning on the second day, tea was made. Some would go three days without eating; others, only two. And yet, a strange phenomenon: the first days are the most difficult. By Tuesday, dizziness begins to set in. But by Wednesday, there can be a turning point—and the fast would become easier for the body. But for the sick, even a single day of fasting is impossible due to their condition.
On Mount Athos, the first day of Lent was particularly difficult for many because there were strong men [accustomed to physical labor]. The digestive glands, finding no food in the stomach, would begin to consume the stomach itself. In such cases, they needed to eat something on Monday to avoid harming their health.
Therefore, I will not attempt to enumerate all possible physical variations—who can endure what, and to what degree. And we adhere to this method: complete abstinence for the entire week is not required; it is not even necessary to fast until Wednesday, until the first Liturgy of the Presanctified Gifts; Even spending the first day entirely without food is not obligatory. Let each person choose according to their strength. Let each one voluntarily take up the ascetic struggle set before them. In this way, they will be able to pass through the Fast without losing its true purpose—to encounter, in our corruptible flesh, the grace of the Resurrection.
Each year, we are given the opportunity to experience a paradox: we endure the ascetic labors of Great Lent—tears, repentance, vigils, and so on—for fifty days. Yet, the Paschal joy—the joy of the Resurrection—we can sustain only for a very short time before we find ourselves lacking the strength to rejoice. It would seem that the opposite should be true: during the Fast—contrition, and then, the exultant joy of the Resurrection, which revives a person!
