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And immediately the father of the boy crying out, with tears said: I do believe, Lord: help my unbelief. And when Jesus saw the multitude running together, he threatened the unclean spirit, saying to him: Deaf and dumb spirit, I command thee, go out of him; and enter not any more into him. And crying out, and greatly tearing him, he went out of him, and he became as dead, so that many said: He is dead. But Jesus taking him by the hand, lifted him up; and he arose. And when he was come into the house, his disciples secretly asked him: Why could not we cast him out? And he said to them: This kind can go out by nothing, but by prayer and fasting. (Mark 9: 24-29)
From the penultimate history of St. Francis, Thomas of Celano wrote, concerning the mortifications of Francis and his early followers: “The zealous knight of Christ never spared his body, but exposed it to every hurt both in deed and in word, as through it were something separate from himself…For since they girded themselves and clothed themselves with iron hoops and corsets and tried themselves with many vigils and fasts, they would very often have succumbed had they not relaxed the rigor of such abstinence at the earnest advice of their kind shepherd.”
Similarly, a biographer of Padre Pio recorded: “The Capuchin Fraternity in which he entered was one of the most austere of the Franciscan Order and one of the most faithful to the original rule of Saint Francis of Assisi. Fasting and penance were regular practices. Friar Pio embraced all the forms of self-privation, always eating very little. On one occasion he was nourished solely from the Eucharist for 20 days and although he was physically weak, he would participate in class with obvious happiness. It was one of the best times of his life, ‘I am immensely happy when I suffer, and if I consent to the impulses of my heart, I would ask that Jesus give me all the suffering of mankind.’”
As a child I had a very vague remembrance of going with my father to a stinky sea-food shop and buying fish for our Friday dinner during Lent. I couldn’t stand fish and probably ate a sandwich that night. When I became a teenager, and my family grew somewhat distant from the Church, I have no recollection of ever fasting, abstaining, or practicing any Lenten observances. During the 13 years I spent in parochial schools, I never heard anything about ritual fasts. The first time would be years later, after a decade of wretchedness, when I began to read about the lives of the Saints: their struggles, many hardships, and eventual prize of Glory. For many of them, fasting was a part of their program of mortification. At first, I thought this a throwback to a form of medieval and meaningless archaic posturing. Then, somewhere, through a deepening devotion to St. Joseph, I learned about the “cord of St. Joseph.” At the time, I was floundering and desperate, so I started wearing one. Like the children of Fatima had done: I tied a rope about my waist, next to my flesh, and wore my clothes over it. It was strange, but somehow reassuring; a gentle reminder that the Lord and my beloved Joseph were always near. At times, it itched or irritated me slightly. But, again, it was a reminder. Later, during my first Lent in the Church, I jumped fully into all types of devotions; primarily, I fasted. Immediately, it took my mind off of the sexual and the suppressed: hunger was my sole bodily preoccupation. At the same time, I was also becoming very devoted to “The Stations of the Cross.” With Christ at my side, I joined with Him my little pangs of hunger and discomfort. We grew more intimately attached. As I continued to fast, I slowly understood how the soul and the mind can control the body. How easily I refused to eat certain foods, or curtail the amount of intact; so too could I control my thoughts and my actions. The sexual impulse became just another craving. I could feed it or starve it to death.
With any kind of pious strategy, I would recommend being under the guidance of a very good spiritual director. As the brief history of St. Francis and his companions illustrates, sometimes devotions can become harmful if taken to an extreme. Also, the Lord will not judge us by comparing our efforts with those of the Saints; as they are the loftiest examples of human spiritual endurance. For, just as everyone who begins to paint or sculpt will not become a Michelangelo. Some will, most will not. But, “Blessed is the man that endureth temptation; for when he hath been proved, he shall receive a crown of life, which God hath promised to them that love him.” (James 1: 12)