Faith Works 3-10-07
Jeff Gill

Tartar Sauce With Your Faith?

Driving down 21 st St. in Newark recently, four signs in quick succession indicated some kind of "fish sandwich special."

A chain that I won’t specify, but has a polite, bearded Colonel whose stock in trade is fowl, did an unusual thing last month, asking the Vatican in Rome to "bless" their new fish snacker. Something about how these restaurateurs just want to help us in our "busy modern lives."

The Pope’s answer has not, to my knowledge, been shared publicly, but the blessing seems to be on hold.

What’s the deal with fish? On those sign boards, there’s often a very precise "Friday" offer involved.

There is a long tradition in Christianity of "fish on Friday." Usually associated with Roman Catholicism, it actually isn’t just a Catholic Christian thing. Orthodox Christians of the Eastern rites (Greek, Russian, et alia) observe a rigorous fast throughout Lent, the period of preparation before Easter, where they abstain from meat and dairy entirely.

The point of "fish on Friday" isn’t so much fish, as it is the giving up of meat on the day Jesus was crucified and died. Christians of a variety of traditions have long had some form of fasting on Friday, whether from meat or other dietary niceties, throughout the year. The Catholic Church used to recommend this practice very strongly, and the observance is reinforced during Lent with the ubiquitous "Friday Fish Fry," at a parish near you.

Even if you aren’t helping the outreach budget of a Knights of Columbus chapter, there are plenty of you who stick to fish on Lenten Fridays, or so many fast food joints wouldn’t make it a selling point.

Going back into the Middle Ages of Europe, the ideal of fasting from rich, red meat was balanced by the availability of seafood, particularly in places like the British Isles and the Spanish and Italian peninsulas, where so many of our ancestors lived.

A preaching point helped to cement the message of "fish on Friday." Many know the two-curve glyph of a simple fish outline, signifying Christian belief. One of the roots of this icon is in an acronym for "Jesus Christ, Son of God, Savior" in Greek, which from those Greek letters is "Ichthus," or "fish."

A fish was an object of marvel in the ancient world, being an animal that lived in the sea, a sea creature with eyes and mouth and group behavior. "Neither fish nor fowl," speaking of the two forms of life that lived in the margins of what human understand.

Jesus as man, Christ as God, the "God-Man" as ancient creed literally said, was in two worlds at once, in a way human understanding could not quite comprehend. So a fish, an image so common in the Gospels to start with, was a sensible symbol of Christianity.

Eating fish, then, became both a renunciation of usual habits with fasting from steak and mutton, and an opportunity to meditate on God’s purposes worked out on the margins of our experience, eating an animal that lived in the water and breathed not air. If God can create a fish, why not become man?

Fasting is suitable for most of us, whatever our religious tradition. There are indications that many faith groups are recovering a sense of discipline and devotion through practices like fasting, but little indication in the culture that an epidemic of fasting is threatening to close DonutDome or BurgerWorld.
Drastic fasts, reducing down to fluids only, or just juices, should get some medical counsel as well as spiritual guidance. But anyone could simply give up a little extra, set aside some savings for good works of your choice, and even have some fish and reflect on the marvels of the created world around us as Spring approaches.

Too much tartar sauce, though, would defeat the whole purpose.

Jeff Gill is a writer, storyteller, and supply preacher around central Ohio; he could do with giving up the fries with his fish fillets. Tell him about a culinary devotion of your own at knapsack77@gmail.com.