Friday, February 20, 2026

 

The Sorrow of King David  William Brassey Hole (1846-1917)

 

Isaiah 58:1-9a, Psalm 51:1-4; Matthew 9:14-17

While attending Western Washington University in the 1990s, my best friend was a trombonist/music education major from Seattle. His family had come to the US from Greece and were practicing Eastern Orthodox. Visiting his home in Seattle on the way to and from rehearsals and performances was akin to living in the later released movie My Big Fat Greek Wedding. 

 

Chris was the youngest of four boys who were all loud and extremely sure of themselves, his father wrote for the Seattle Times and could trace the history of literally everything back to the Greeks, and his mother had a pantry the likes of nothing I had ever seen. 

 

Growing up with Dutch cooking, this was a wonder of palatable delicacies. Chris would call an hour before we were scheduled to drive down from Bellingham or even less before we were returning and either way, at some point we’d be sitting eating the most amazing homemade Greek food and be sent away with leftovers. For a couple of twenty-year-old uni students, this was an extension of Heaven. Or Greek mythology. Take your pick.   

Having the opportunity on a few occasions to attend their Eastern Orthodox Church for Orthodox Easter (the “real” Easter as Chris would say) was amazing. After the service, his family would host the entire congregation in their home and backyard in north Seattle where his brothers and father would roast entire lambs on spits in their backyard. Greek grandmothers would bring their traditional cooking and desserts, and it truly was a feast that ended their Lenten fast which they all took seriously. You see, Chris could get hangry during Lent (understandable, having grown up with all that food). It was a relief when he was finally able to eat everything again. 

 

For me having grown up Reformed, he was the first person I’d ever known who not only fasted for Lent but fasted at all. And at times we’d get into some theological bickering about fasting partly because he was a hangry, Greek American who thought he was always right and I was a non-fasting Dutch-Reformed of immigrant descent who also thought he was always right. I recall one day of banter when without thinking I asked him what he was so touchy about and he shot back with, “I’m fasting for Lent! Why don’t you fast? Jesus fasted!” To which I replied, “I’m not Jesus!” It is safe to say neither of us was all that theologically correct that day. 

Over thirty years have passed since, and we have lost touch. But I have thought of that exchange often and, with the passage of time, realize neither of us in our young, hot-headedness really understood fasting that well. The Bible only records one specific time in which Jesus fasted during the forty days and nights before his temptation by Satan and not again. In fact, the Gospels seem to indicate Jesus enjoyed a good feast and, in the reading for today, he rather pointedly indicates that his disciples didn’t need to fast while he was among them (Matt. 9:15). 

 

Through the prophet Isaiah (58:1-9a), God condemned the fasting of ancient Israel because it was being done with false motives; to gain attention to themselves rather than to draw nearer to God. The Lord is clearly angry in this passage, commanding Isaiah to “Cry aloud; do not hold back; lift up your voice like a trumpet [my favourite part]; declare to my people their transgression, to the house of Jacob their sins!” 

 

And what is God most angry about? It’s not that they’re cheating on their fasting, but rather that they have completely misunderstood how to fast in the first place. Instead of outwardly giving up things, he wants them (and us) to free the oppressed, to share our bread with the hungry, shelter the poor, and cover the naked. Further, in Psalm 51, he calls us to demonstrate true sorrow and repentance for our sins, crying out to him for his mercy before going forth and teaching others his ways. 

 

The depth of this kind of fasting was lost on my friend and me. He fasted and let it show outwardly. I didn’t fast but was not as gracious towards him as I should have been. In our young, impetuous ways we were judging each other by our own standards and not by those of God. 

A little wisdom gained in the years since has softened me (believe it or not). Countless times over the years I have had to cry out to God as David does in Psalm 51: Have mercy upon me, O God, according to your steadfast love…blot out my transgressions…wash me thoroughly…cleanse me from my sin…for my sin is ever before me (Ps. 51). I have since learned the wonder of Lent and the concept of fasting which, sadly, I am still not all that good at. However, I am better equipped to do what God commanded through Isaiah; that giving something up need not necessarily be about me, but rather what I can do by giving of my time, my money, my food, and above all my love for those less fortunate than I. It is then that our light shall break forth like the dawn [and] righteousness shall go before you (Is. 58:8). 

 

Keith Griffioen 

 

 

Miserere Mei, Deus   Gregorio Allegri, c. 1638