Seventeenth Sunday after Trinity

The first reading is commonly known as Hannah’ Song. Hannah has received the child for whom she prayed, and she brings Samuel to the sanctuary. Therefore, this song begins as a personal song of thanksgiving. But as we read further, Hannah’s personal experience becomes a much larger reflection on who God is and how God acts in the world. Hannah says: “My heart exults in the Lord; my strength is exalted in my God.” But immediately the song moves beyond her own blessing. She speaks about the mighty and the weak, the full and the hungry, the barren and the mother, the poor and the powerful.

“The bows of the mighty are broken, but the feeble gird on strength.” “Those who were full have hired themselves out for bread, but those who were hungry are fat with spoil.” “He raises up the poor from the dust; he lifts the needy from the ash heap.” (vv.4-8). Therefore, Hannah is not simply saying, “God answered my prayer.” Her experience leads her to recognize the attribute of God as one who notices those who are pushed to the margins. The important point is that her thanksgiving does not remain personal. It becomes a vision of a world in which God overturns human measurements of power and status: “Not by might shall one prevail.” This becomes significant because the wider story of 1 Samuel speaks about kingship, military power and political authority. Hannah’ song reminds us that human strength is not the final measure of God’s work. And therefore, the question for us is not merely, “Have I received God’s blessing?” But also “What do I see when I look at the people who have not received what I have?” True worship opens our eyes beyond ourselves.

The second reading comes from the closing section of Jude. The letter addresses divisions, and people who have disturbed the Christian community. Yet Jude’s response is not simply to attack those who are different.

He tells the community: “Build yourselves up on your most holy faith; pray in the Holy Spirit; keep yourselves in the love of God.” (vv.20-21). But then Jude immediately moves from themselves to others: “And have mercy on some who are wavering; save others by snatching them out of the fire; and have mercy on still others with fear.” (vv.22-23). This shift is important. One can pray regularly and yet remain indifferent to another person’s suffering. One can fast and still remain unconcerned about the hungry. One can speak of holiness and yet refuse to show mercy to those who doubt. Thus, Jude connects faith with action: ‘faith, prayer, love, mercy and rescue.’ The final verse turns our attention back to God. “Now to him who is able to keep you from falling…” Our community should not depend only upon its own religious performance. Its hope rests in God.

Now we come to the Gospel reading, where the question of fasting appears directly. Someone asks Jesus: “Why do John’s disciples and the disciples of the Pharisees fast, but your disciples do not fast?” The nature of the question is not “Should we fast?” Instead, it was: “Why are your disciples not fasting like us? Jesus responds with the image of a wedding: “Can the wedding guests fast while the bridegroom is with them?” A wedding is normally a time of celebration. Therefore, fasting would not fit the occasion. He continues: “The days will come when the bridegroom is taken away from them, and then they will fast on that day.” Jesus does not say, ‘Fasting is unnecessary.’ Instead, he gives fasting a different context. There is a time for celebration and there is a time for fasting. And notice the connection between ‘taken away’ and fasting. When something precious is taken away, people mourn. So Jesus presents fasting not merely as a religious performance but as an expression of longing and loss, leading us to an important question: What is the reason for our fasting? In verses 21-22, Jesus gives two images: an unshrunk patch on an old garment and new wine in old wineskins. These sayings are often understood simply as old religion versus new religion. But Jesus does not simply say that everything old is useless. In fact, he has already said that his disciples will fast. The arrival of God’s kingdom changes the way people understand religious practices.And then Mark immediately moves to another controversy, this time concerning the Sabbath. Jesus says: “The Sabbath was made for humankind, and not humankind for the Sabbath.” This statement is crucial for understanding the whole passage. Jesus is not destroying the Sabbath. He is reminding his hearers of its purpose. The religious practice exists for human beings. Human beings do not exist merely to serve a religious system. Jesus is asking whether religious practices are serving their God-given purpose.

When we place these three readings together, a common theme begins to appear. Hannah speaks about the hungry and the poor, Jude speaks about those who doubt and those who are in danger, and Jesus speaks about fasting and the purpose of religious practice. The texts compel us to ask- What does our fasting mean? If I fast only as an outward religious practice, while remaining indifferent to the suffering around me, what has my fasting achieved? Jesus gives fasting its significance. And this becomes particularly relevant when we look at the world around us. We live in a world where millions continue to experience hunger and food insecurity. At the same time, many of us have regular access to food and can treat fasting as a voluntary religious discipline. The issue is not that having food is wrong. The issue is whether our abundance makes us forget those who do not have enough. Perhaps fasting should make us more sensitive to the person whose hunger is not voluntary. A Jewish Rabbi once said, “let our stomachs be empty and our hearts be heavy.” This is where I would bring back the title: “Fasting or Mourning?” Jesus says that when the bridegroom is taken away, then they will fast. While Mark speaks explicitly about fasting, Matthew’s parallel account uses the language of mourning. Matthew therefore helps us see the emotional and relational dimension behind the fasting Jesus speaks about. Fasting is, therefore, connected with absence. Something is missing; something has been taken away. When we look around us, every moment gives us a reason to mourn: the sound of gunfire, the bloodshed on our streets, the cries of war, and the hunger of those who have no food. Every day, the news reminds us that our brothers and sisters are suffering and losing their lives in great numbers. The text challenges us to ask whether our religious practices are making us more attentive to God’s purposes and more responsive to human suffering. Not mourning for the sake of sadness, but mourning that refuses to become comfortable with another person’s pain. Not fasting simply because Lent has arrived, but fasting because our hearts have learned to feel the absence of justice, compassion and life. Fasting or Mourning? ‘Mourning in Fasting’ perhaps should be the response of everyone who prays at this moment in time.