This weekend, we Jews observed Yom Kippur, the holiest day of the year, which marks the end of the Days of Awe, by fasting. Jews don't fast as a matter of course; it is, generally speaking, a cornerstone of our worldview that we are commanded to enjoy the works of creation.
Fasting, however, can be an enlightening experience. There are as many reasons and explanations for fasting as there are Jews who choose to "practice self-denial," as the commandment goes. For me, fasting helps to put food in context and drive home its role as the primary medium through which I interact with the substance of the world around me.
On a basic level, it underscores the notions of emptiness and hunger. It reminds me of the comfort in which I live, and that not all are so fortunate. Fasting prepares me to think seriously about what it means to not-have. Just as Hungry Sam is an expression of the joy and wonder with which I experience food, fasting provides me the opportunity to contemplate the absence of that joy and of the other joys (both real and illusory) begotten by my random fortune to be a middle-class American.
Going deeper, fasting acts as a clear and omnipresent distraction as I sit in synagogue and attempt to commune with my deeper self -- for the purpose of Yom Kippur is not to fast for its own sake, the purpose is to atone, to speak with God and ask forgiveness and to prepare oneself to speak with our fellow humans and ask for forgiveness. Ok, so fasting is a distraction, but I choose to experience it as a surmountable challenge that helps to prepare me for inner dialogue. That hunger forces me to confront my physical self at the same time as I seek to transcend it.
Some Jews wish one another an "easy fast." We could have a short argument over the existence of such a thing. But in my opinion, when food is ever-present for the minority of which I am a part, where comfort is the norm and ease the default goal, I think a difficult fast can go a long way toward changing the paradigm for one day of reflection and growth.