lilithu
The Devil's Advocate
Abhi Janamanchi is the minister of the UU congregation in Clearwater, FL. He was born and raised as a liberal Hindu in India before coming to the US and to UU. The following is excerpted from his sermon this past Sunday.
I am fasting this year during the entire month of Ramadan from dawn to dusk. During this period, I am setting aside as much time as possible for reflection, meditation, and prayer.
But why take this step as a non-Muslim? Why not simply write a generous check to Oxfam or Bread for the World Initiative? Why put myself through all this hassle that too as the spiritual leader of a faith community that proudly proclaims, We are a food based religion? What tangible benefit is achieved through abstinence from food? The tangibles are insignificant, I admit. I could quite easily make out a check and send it to one of the relief organizations that provide food for those who go hungry and deduct it off my tax returns next year. But I believe the intangibles matter as much as the tangibles.
Firstly, I am fasting for myself for my own spiritual and ethical growth. I am fasting to make more room for God. I want to deepen or reawaken my sense of the Spirit by letting go of my cravings for good food. My hunger during my fast is also a visceral reminder of my own deepest yearnings. As a Unitarian Universalist, I believe in the primacy of reason, conscience, and freedom, and I know that the biggest obstacle standing in the way of my living, freely, reasonably, and compassionately is not some outside force, but my own ego, selfishness, and unquenchable desire. Intentional asceticism is one tonic I can take to restore the balance of my personality. The Zulus of Africa put it well: You cannot see the truth with a stuffed belly, and as religious liberals, we are on a search for truth and meaning.
We are all hungry people. Often we fill our hunger with food, with drink, with material comforts, with stuff, with tasks, with distractions like television. It is often difficult to be in touch with our spiritual hunger if we are satiated with food. Fasting awakens us to the hunger within.
I have come to realize that I have been stuffing myself with food in a vain attempt to feed another kind of hunger that cannot be satisfied with food. By fasting, I am beginning to pay greater attention to life. I am becoming more mindful.
Secondly, I am fasting as a way to witness to my convictions and call attention to injustice and inequality. Everyday I have more than enough to eat. In fact, our two refrigerators are brimming with all kinds of goodies and leftovers from restaurants and meals past. Everyday if I am typical of the men and women of America I waste about 15% of the food I buy, enough to keep a child in East Africa from starving. On most days, I eat my meals thoughtlessly, on-the-go, unselfconsciously, irreverently.
Long after my month-long fast I will carry with me vivid memories of the sensation of hunger; memories which, I trust, will reinforce my resolve to do something in my small corner of the globe to work for change and help mitigate this incomprehensible evil of human hunger.
I fast not only to dramatize the plight of the destitute, but to rekindle some spark of universal concern in my own heart, to generate enough empathy to turn the turbines of social action. I must fast to escape the snares of callousness and concupiscence, which lie in wait for all whose lives are too much blessed.
As Mahatma Gandhi once said, If physical fasting is not accompanied by mental fasting, it is bound to end in hypocrisy and disaster.
Third, I am fasting out of gratitude. I am trying to become more cognizant of my good fortune. I want to cleanse the windows of perception so that my vision is not as clouded by desire and self-concern. Perhaps by fasting I will learn to appreciate the gifts of the ordinary, those basic elements of life which we conspicuous consumers take for granted.
I do not want you to think that I am somehow pressuring you into fasting. In fact, fasting is not viewed as a healthy activity by many nutrition experts. It is strongly discouraged by most physicians. So, I certainly am not promoting anorexia.
What I am encouraging you to do is to make more space in your lives, to empty yourselves out so that something new might enter.
What could that space look like in your life? What could you do, symbolically, or literally, to make more space, to open up your life to reflect, to connect, to question, to listen?
If a literal fast doesnt speak to you, is there another way to open up space in your life?
Is there something youve been holding onto, something you could let go of?
Is there a confession we need speak, to ourselves or to another?
Is there an apology we could make?
Is there something or someone we need to forgive?
Is there a closet we could clean out?
Is there a truth we need to admit?
Is there a drink we can put down?
Is there a celebration we can plan?
Is there an invitation we could give?
Is there a phone call long past due?
Is there a word we can speak?
Is there a decision we can make?
Is there an appointment we can cancel?
Is there a walk we can take?
Is there a nap we could enjoy?
Is there a sky we can gaze into?
Is there a hand we can hold?
In this holy season of celebration, reflection, repentance, and sacrifice, may we create the spiritual and emotional space our lives so desperately need. Let us take a lesson from our Jewish and Muslim sisters and brothers. Let us make our own fast, make our own emptying, so we can regain the peaceful sky.
I am fasting this year during the entire month of Ramadan from dawn to dusk. During this period, I am setting aside as much time as possible for reflection, meditation, and prayer.
But why take this step as a non-Muslim? Why not simply write a generous check to Oxfam or Bread for the World Initiative? Why put myself through all this hassle that too as the spiritual leader of a faith community that proudly proclaims, We are a food based religion? What tangible benefit is achieved through abstinence from food? The tangibles are insignificant, I admit. I could quite easily make out a check and send it to one of the relief organizations that provide food for those who go hungry and deduct it off my tax returns next year. But I believe the intangibles matter as much as the tangibles.
Firstly, I am fasting for myself for my own spiritual and ethical growth. I am fasting to make more room for God. I want to deepen or reawaken my sense of the Spirit by letting go of my cravings for good food. My hunger during my fast is also a visceral reminder of my own deepest yearnings. As a Unitarian Universalist, I believe in the primacy of reason, conscience, and freedom, and I know that the biggest obstacle standing in the way of my living, freely, reasonably, and compassionately is not some outside force, but my own ego, selfishness, and unquenchable desire. Intentional asceticism is one tonic I can take to restore the balance of my personality. The Zulus of Africa put it well: You cannot see the truth with a stuffed belly, and as religious liberals, we are on a search for truth and meaning.
We are all hungry people. Often we fill our hunger with food, with drink, with material comforts, with stuff, with tasks, with distractions like television. It is often difficult to be in touch with our spiritual hunger if we are satiated with food. Fasting awakens us to the hunger within.
I have come to realize that I have been stuffing myself with food in a vain attempt to feed another kind of hunger that cannot be satisfied with food. By fasting, I am beginning to pay greater attention to life. I am becoming more mindful.
Secondly, I am fasting as a way to witness to my convictions and call attention to injustice and inequality. Everyday I have more than enough to eat. In fact, our two refrigerators are brimming with all kinds of goodies and leftovers from restaurants and meals past. Everyday if I am typical of the men and women of America I waste about 15% of the food I buy, enough to keep a child in East Africa from starving. On most days, I eat my meals thoughtlessly, on-the-go, unselfconsciously, irreverently.
Long after my month-long fast I will carry with me vivid memories of the sensation of hunger; memories which, I trust, will reinforce my resolve to do something in my small corner of the globe to work for change and help mitigate this incomprehensible evil of human hunger.
I fast not only to dramatize the plight of the destitute, but to rekindle some spark of universal concern in my own heart, to generate enough empathy to turn the turbines of social action. I must fast to escape the snares of callousness and concupiscence, which lie in wait for all whose lives are too much blessed.
As Mahatma Gandhi once said, If physical fasting is not accompanied by mental fasting, it is bound to end in hypocrisy and disaster.
Third, I am fasting out of gratitude. I am trying to become more cognizant of my good fortune. I want to cleanse the windows of perception so that my vision is not as clouded by desire and self-concern. Perhaps by fasting I will learn to appreciate the gifts of the ordinary, those basic elements of life which we conspicuous consumers take for granted.
I do not want you to think that I am somehow pressuring you into fasting. In fact, fasting is not viewed as a healthy activity by many nutrition experts. It is strongly discouraged by most physicians. So, I certainly am not promoting anorexia.
What I am encouraging you to do is to make more space in your lives, to empty yourselves out so that something new might enter.
What could that space look like in your life? What could you do, symbolically, or literally, to make more space, to open up your life to reflect, to connect, to question, to listen?
If a literal fast doesnt speak to you, is there another way to open up space in your life?
Is there something youve been holding onto, something you could let go of?
Is there a confession we need speak, to ourselves or to another?
Is there an apology we could make?
Is there something or someone we need to forgive?
Is there a closet we could clean out?
Is there a truth we need to admit?
Is there a drink we can put down?
Is there a celebration we can plan?
Is there an invitation we could give?
Is there a phone call long past due?
Is there a word we can speak?
Is there a decision we can make?
Is there an appointment we can cancel?
Is there a walk we can take?
Is there a nap we could enjoy?
Is there a sky we can gaze into?
Is there a hand we can hold?
In this holy season of celebration, reflection, repentance, and sacrifice, may we create the spiritual and emotional space our lives so desperately need. Let us take a lesson from our Jewish and Muslim sisters and brothers. Let us make our own fast, make our own emptying, so we can regain the peaceful sky.
