Fasting through Mom’s Lenten meals

It’s OK, we can say it (you know it, and I know it): Compared to our Orthodox brethren and our Muslim friends, the Catholic idea of required fasting is — let me be diplomatic here — not terribly impressive.

The Orthodox start fasting before Lent even begins, adapting a restrictive, very nearly vegan diet throughout the holy season. During Ramadan, followers of Islam fast from everything, even water, from sunrise to sunset, although they do feast once the sun goes down. A Muslim friend of mine never tires of breaking her fast with dates stuffed with blue cheese, which she says provides “an instant hit of sugar, salt, protein and fat” after a sometimes wearying day.

On the other hand, we Catholics (ages 18-59) are only required to fast on Ash Wednesday and Good Friday, although it is recommended to continue the Good Friday fast through the Triduum, if one can. Catholics 14 and older are also required to abstain from meat on Ash Wednesday, Good Friday and on all Fridays in Lent.

Catholic fasting permits one full meal, as well as two smaller meals that together are not equal to a full one, but to observe Catholics on social media during these two days can be a bit embarrassing. Despite Jesus’ clear instructions: “When you fast anoint your head and wash your face, that your fasting may not be observed” (Mt 6:17-18), Catholics carry on publicly about keening hunger, seek advice on drinking water to feel full, and wonder all day about whether one may chew gum, suck on a mint or “make the smaller meals last a long time” by dragging them out.

As a child who knew nothing of age exemptions, I recall not being too terribly put out by the meal restrictions. That was largely thanks to my mother, who neither sewed nor baked, but was a truly terrible cook, to boot. Ash Wednesday brought a supper of pancakes — and gosh, we loved pancakes — but for the fast we would forgo butter and maple syrup for a can of corn mixed into the batter.

My brothers insisted that a multitude of sins were forgiven with every bite.

On Fridays in Lent (and throughout the year, before the Second Vatican Council) we would free countless poor souls in Purgatory with tuna-on-usually-burnt-toast (made gooey via a can of cream of mushroom soup) or by consuming potatoes with cheese and sauerkraut, or — if Mom was feeling jolly — cheese and pickle sandwiches with mustard.

In retrospect, all these meals were as awful as they sound, but — whether intentionally or not — they delivered a message that our fasting and our abstinences were meant to be taken seriously and not subverted through technicalities. (One can eat a fine meal of shrimp or lobster while still observing “abstinence” after all, or eat something so hearty for a full-sized lunch that it stands one through the terrible hours until the smaller meal.)

In Mom’s kitchen, one was never tempted thusly, and I’ve come to believe that was probably a good thing. As I grew older, I learned to appreciate her harrowing Lenten efforts, both for their simple creativity and their profoundly penitential value. She tried; we offered it up. You can’t ask more out of a meal in Lent, can you? And in my adulthood, I’ve missed some of those weird dinners. I’ve felt an occasional yen to make the dry, crunchy corn pancakes of my youth — an offer which always leaves my husband speechless and unable to hide an expression of polite horror. Ditto the creamed tuna, which I must admit was ghastly.

But we’ve all learned to love the beans-and-macaroni. Yes, as Mom made it, it’s simply macaroni and a can of white kidney beans, but it goes down easy on a cold Lenten evening.

During Lent until Good Friday, we are required only to observe the Friday abstinence from meat. I’ll save my thoughts on how poorly we’ve taught Friday abstinences for another column, which you may find useful to read as a kind of Lenten penance.

Do I sound cranky? I just realized that I might sound peevish. Well, I’m 66 years old and I’m fasting, so there. Maybe there is some sense to those age restrictions, after all. But I did wash my face, Jesus! I’m trying!

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