I have never been much one to appreciate ascetical self-discipline that has no purpose beyond itself. It always reminds me of a story I once heard about an earnest young collegian who put a sharp pebble in his shoe to call to mind the sufferings of Christ; one of his buddies was heard to remark, “If he really wanted to suffer, he could try shoveling the walk.”
    Fasting, accordingly, never seemed particularly sensible to me, especially since the result is usually (with me, at least) either enhanced crabbiness or a marked increase in my thoughts on food, neither of which serve my fellow Christian or detach my mind from thoughts of this world.
    I have discovered in my pastoral experience, though, a practical application for fasting. There are just times when it is not possible to get food when you want it. You know the kind: you are in the hospital holding hands through a long surgery. Or you are in the funeral home with the grieving. Or you are in a council meeting that abjectly refuses to end. In these cases I have found that some modest experience with fasting actually does some good, increasing self-control and allowing attention to be paid to the neighbor rather than to the stomach.