INTRODUCTION TO THE MYSTERY OF THE PASCHAL FAST

by Priest Aleksandar Radunovic

“And the people stood afar off, but Moses drew near unto the thick darkness where God was.” (Exodus 20:21)
Who can comprehend the depth of fasting, except the one who has stepped in spirit into the light of divine darkness—into the darkness of Sinai, into the Taboric cloud, into the gloom where light casts no shadow but kindles spiritual vision? Who can grasp its mysterious power, except the one who has been granted to hear, in the hushed silence of the heart, the word of the Ineffable?
“And the light shineth in darkness, and the darkness comprehended it not.” (John 1:5)
Divine darkness is not the absence of light but the place where reason ceases, and the soul receives the grace of illumination. For true knowledge of God does not come through human logic but through immersion into the ineffable darkness where God dwells.
O, sacred gloom of fasting, in which light is born! O, hidden cloud above the sanctuary of the heart, wherein the Ineffable is revealed! For is not the darkness of fasting the same darkness in which Abraham heard the voice of God? “And when the sun was going down, a deep sleep fell upon Abram, and, lo, a horror of great darkness fell upon him.” (Genesis 15:12). O, how terrible and sweet is that darkness, in which the mind falls silent and the soul surrenders to a light not of this world!
The darkness of fasting is the very darkness into which Moses entered on Sinai: “And the people stood afar off, but Moses drew near unto the thick darkness where God was.” (Exodus 20:21). For fasting is not merely a weakening of bodily strength but an entrance into the ineffable darkness where the mind is silent, and the heart speaks. It is a darkness that is neither emptiness nor abyss, but the Taboric cloud that veils the transient so that the eternal may be revealed.
In the darkness of fasting, every scent of worldly life fades, every comfort of the flesh withdraws, every whisper of human will ceases, so that only the still voice of the One who dwells in the innermost sanctuary of the heart may be heard. Just as the prophet Elijah did not find the Lord in the wind, nor in the earthquake, nor in the fire, but in a still small voice (“And after the fire, a still small voice” – 1 Kings 19:12), so too does the one who fasts not find God in the noise of this world, but in the darkness of humility, in the stillness of the soul, in the tears of repentance.
The darkness of the Paschal fast is not the darkness of death, but the beginning of the light of Resurrection. Just as a grain of wheat, cast into the earth, dies so that new life may spring forth, so too does the soul in fasting bury the old man, that from the darkness of the grave it may rise into the day of immortality.


Therefore, who can comprehend the mystery of this darkness? Only the one who has passed through it and inwardly felt the radiance of its light. Blessed is the one who does not fear this darkness, for within it already shines the light of the third day!
Who can understand its mysterious power, except the one who has been granted to hear, in the hushed silence of the heart, the word of the Ineffable? For fasting is not merely an act but a state; not merely an endeavor but a transformation; not merely a struggle but a baptism in the fire that consumes corruption and transfigures into light.
Like clay in the hands of the Heavenly Potter, the soul of the one who fasts is shaped in the silence of renunciation, in the humility of bodily weakness, in the tears that purify the heart and prepare it to receive the light of the sun that never sets. For what is fasting if not a return to primordial purity, an exodus from the thick darkness of ever-burning desires into the space of freedom, where only one holy, divine longing reigns—to be united with the Lord?
O, sacred wilderness of fasting, where the soul is freed from the burdens of this world and becomes light as a feather, carried by the wind of the Spirit into the heights of heaven! O, sacred hunger, which does not exhaust but nourishes with heavenly bread! O, sacred thirst, which does not consume but refreshes with the water of life! For the one who fasts does not die, but is resurrected; does not weaken, but is strengthened; does not lose, but gains all.
Let our days, then, be a sanctuary of prayer, our thoughts an incense offering before the face of the Lord, our words a hymn of divine love. And as we approach the end of this spiritual labor, let us not stumble into earthly joy, but with trembling prepare for that which fasting foreshadows—the mystery of death and Resurrection, the darkness of the tomb and the radiant third day.
Let us therefore approach the light through the darkness of fasting and rejoice in what is given to us—not with the fleeting joy of the flesh, but with the ineffable radiance of the spirit.
O, mystery of mysteries! O, ineffable light, which shines forth from the darkness of sin and leads us to the dawn of eternity! For just as Israel wandered in the wilderness for forty years to be cleansed from the rust of Egypt, so too do we, the people of the New Covenant, pass through the Paschal fast, through forty days of spiritual wilderness, so that, purified and renewed, we may worthily enter the light of the Lord’s Resurrection.
For fasting is not merely abstaining from food, nor a dry asceticism that torments the body; fasting is the renewal of the spirit, a separation from corruption, a return to primordial purity. It is the opening of the gates of the inner Jerusalem, where the Lord dwells in the heart of man. Fasting is the silence of the body so that the soul may speak. It is the renunciation of the earthly so that the heart may be united with the heavenly. It is the weeping over our falls so that we may be clothed in the joyful garment of the Resurrection.
Therefore, let us fast, brethren, not only with our stomachs but also with our tongues, that we may not wound our brother; let us fast with our eyes, that we may not look with lust; let us fast with our hands, that we may not commit injustice; let us fast with our minds, that we may not dwell in vain thoughts; let us fast with our hearts, that we may love nothing more than the Lord. For every fast that is not united with humility and love is barren, like a fig tree without fruit, doomed to wither.
Fasting is a cross, but also an ascension; fasting is a tomb, but also an emergence from it; fasting is the death of the old Adam, but also the birth of the New Man in Christ. Just as the sun cannot set without leaving a trace of light upon the sky, so too does the soul that journeys through the darkness of fasting attain the flame of immortality.
O, my brother, O, my sister, do not fear fasting, for in it lies the key weapon of salvation! Do not be afraid of the darkness, for within it already shines the unquenchable light of the Resurrection! Humble yourself, be silent, pray, overcome sin with love, and you will behold the radiance of the third day!
And behold, the day of the Resurrection already shines on the horizon, the sun of eternal glory rises from the tomb, and the darkness of fasting dissolves before it, like night before the dawn. O, mystery of fasting, you have led us through the valley of tears, through the fire of trials, through the darkness of humility, and now, you deliver us into the light that knows no setting!
Who can comprehend this moment, when the soul, cleansed from the mire of the earth, ascends to the light that will never abandon it? For fasting was not an end, but a beginning; it was not death, but life; it was not sorrow, but joy in the darkness of knowing that the One who suffered for us now appears in glory.
Therefore, let our hearts be the throne of His Resurrection, let our minds be the lamp of His wisdom, let our souls be the altar upon which burns the fire of divine love. For every fast is a path to Pascha, every tear is a seed of heavenly joy, every silence is a hymn to the ineffable wealth of the glory of the One who comes in power and majesty.


And now, as the last stars retreat before the crimson glow of morning, let every thought of ours be offered before the Lord as pure incense of prayer. Let not only the body be resurrected, but also the spirit; let not only the day arise, but also our soul from the grave of sin; let not only the sun shine in the heavens, but also the light of eternal life in our hearts!
Peace and blessing to those who have fasted in truth, joy and radiance to those who have been cleansed by repentance! And may the light of Him who has conquered death shine upon us all, that we too may be victors with Him, now and unto the ages of ages! Amen.
And now, with a humbled heart, I bow and prostrate myself before you, beloved in the Lord, and cry out: forgive me, the weak and unworthy, for every word spoken in excess, for every deficiency in expression, for every thought that was not worthy of the ineffable mystery of the Divine. May all who have risen in faith be united in the joy of the Heavenly Kingdom, where there is neither fasting, nor hunger, nor sorrow, but only the eternal banquet of Life, in which the righteous are forever joined with Christ, who for our sake descended into the darkness of this world and brought us into the unwaning light of eternity.
May the blessing of the Lord be upon all who read these words, upon all Orthodox Christians, upon the whole body of the Church, now and unto the ages of ages.
Amen!